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Introduction:

refer to part 1 for intro
Kehalis had lain awake for hours after he had set the guard , listening for some sound from the side room into which the Arab had taken the blonde American pilot. But he could hear nothing over the snores of the exhausted men sleeping around him. Nor could he could see anything happening in the room but the faint light from the lantern shining under the edge of the blanket the Arab had hung over the door to the room. He carefully sneaked a look into the room once he was sure the other men were asleep. But he saw nothing except the American woman silently kneeling by the Arab’s bed. He lay awake in the dark of the cave unable to sleep, Cathy’s gloves held to his nose, their fragrance reminding him of her. He endlessly turned over in his mind what he was to do. It was not a simple question; he had to weigh his desire for the woman against his duty to his Mullah. Kehalis knew that he could not return to the strictly male confines of the Mullah’s madrassa in company with a female, let alone a female infidel who was a member of his enemy’s Army, even if she was by grace of God a slave captured in jihad . That thought frightened him; the Mullah’s household was the only home he had ever known. But he could not forget the feeling of the infidel Captain’s body under his hands, her golden hair, her warmth, her fragrance, or the beauty of her face. Kehalis was still awake when he had finally heard the screams he had been dreading.

Before the other men could react, Kehalis was up and at the door, brushing aside the blanket to stare at the scene within. The sight of the dark man mounting the naked American woman froze him in place. He could not move; he could not even raise the AK he held clenched in his right hand. He could only stare at the nude body on the sleeping platform, her arms and legs held underneath her body, reducing the captive woman to an agony filled face and an apparently limbless female torso, Cathy’s pale nude body was vivid in the dim lantern light in contrast to the shadows around her and the black form of the Arab on top of her. Frozen in place by the sight of Cathy being raped, Kehalis watched the Arab thrust again and again into the helpless woman, battering her bound body with his cock as she fought back against him, her body struggling underneath him, screams pouring out of the red "O" of her lips. Kehalis was struck by the beauty displayed before him, by the femininity of Cathy’s nude form as she fought frantically for her lost virtue. He stared at her breasts, their twin red tips swaying erotically in time with the thrusts of the man’s cock. In his eyes, her blonde hair formed a golden halo around that pain filled face, making Cathy appear almost angelic, an impression reinforced by the ethereal paleness of her body. Kehalis wanted to stop this, to save the beautiful woman being ravaged before his eyes; but, at the same time, he wanted even more to see her brutally taken, to see her nude body ravaged by a man, even if that man was the Arab. So he stood and watched, ashamed but at the same time unable to do anything else. He was only dimly aware of the other men crowding around him to watch Cathy’s rape with him. It was the sounds of Cathy’s moans that filled his ears, not their crude, laughing comments as they cheered the Arab on. It was only after the grinning Arab had pulled out and turned toward him that the spell was broken. Kehalis was pushed into the room as the men behind him hurried to respond to the man’s beckoning gesture, hurrying to get a closer look at the naked, blonde American, the signs of her rape still running from her open cunt. Swept along by the other men, Kehalis suddenly found himself face to face with the Arab. That brought him to a stop as the other men flowed around him to form a half circle around Cathy as she lay semi-conscious on her back, her raped and bound body, the stuff men’s dreams are made of, drawing them irresistibly to her.

The Arab held up his hands in a gesture to restrain the men before they simply swarmed over the helplessly bound woman.

" Kehalis, tell them to be patient. In the name of God, most gracious, most merciful, I promise that all will enjoy this female slave of mine. All will share in the prize that God has given us. Tell them this."

Kehalis did as the Arab commanded, his words prompting a cheer from the men around him. At this point, Kehalis was too confused by this turn of events to even think of using his position as translator to betray the Arab. He felt sick at his stomach at the prospect of seeing "his" blonde American defiled by men he had grown up with, had know all his life. In his mind he had never considered this prospect; he had thought the Arab his only rival. The Arab’s next words confused him even more.

" And you, Kehalis, shall be first. I bestow this honor upon you, my loyal lieutenant. But first, let me prepare her to receive you."

As Kehalis watched in puzzlement, the Arab flipped Cathy over so that she lay on her stomach and breasts, her bound thighs and lower legs half way off the platform, her face to the wall, out of his sight. What Kehalis now saw was a mass of blonde hair , her strong arms, cruelly bound together at the wrists and elbows arching her back and emphasizing Cathy‘s well muscled back, and below them her taunt buttocks, the wrinkled star of Cathy’s anus clearly visible between her two round ass cheeks. The grinning Arab patted Cathy’s round butt possessively as he said:

" I know you prefer boys, Kehalis. She will be closer to your .. desires this way. You can take her like you would take a boy.. here.. in the ass. "

Kehalis stared at him for a long moment. Truthfully, he wanted the woman’s ass; seeing her like this with her round ass and strong back displayed , aroused him. Not as a boy would, but as a woman, a woman unlike any he had ever experienced, one strong and still feminine. But despite the man’s smiles, he knew the Arab’s gift was a thinly veiled insult. Though his culture readily accepted that a man could find satisfaction with a boy, the Arab still looked down upon him for seeking the company of boys just as he did for his poor Arabic and his provincialism. Keahlis lusted for revenge for these insults. He was a Pashtoon. Revenge for an insult real or imagined was the highest law of his people. Kehalis was very aware of the rifle resting heavily in his right hand. He wanted nothing so much at this moment as to raise the muzzle into the Arab’s grinning face and empty the entire magazine into him. But Kehalis was equally aware of the Arab’s right hand as it casually rested on the hilt of the large knife on his belt Standing as they did within arm‘s reach of each other, the knife was the more dangerous weapon. Nor could he look for help now from his tribesmen. Their attention was on the woman. Now was not the time, he told himself.

" Why do you hesitate, Kehalis? Would you refuse my hospitality? Or is it that she is too much woman for you, Kehalis? Shall I give her ass to your men instead?" the Arab continued mockingly. " I do not think they will refuse it. Look at her ass. Her bottom is just like the one in that song you are so fond of, the song about a boy with a bottom like a ripe peach. Are you, God be merciful, not man enough to take that ass? "

Kehalis’ face flushed a bright red with the anger and humiliation he felt as he stepped to stand between the woman’s bound legs. He laid his rifle against the side of the platform, stripped off his coat, and dropped his pants. Standing there in his long shirt, he bent over to run his hands over Cathy’s ass cheeks, feeling once again the warmth and firmness of her. But this time there were no clothes between his hands and her flesh. He ran his hands over her bare skin, slick with her sweat. As the men around him cheered, Kehalis parted Cathy’s ass cheeks, gripping each of those lily white ass cheeks with one of his hands, the dark color of his hands- part race and part sheer filth- contrasting strongly with the pale white of Cathy’s untanned ass cheeks. As he gripped and knead her firm ass, Kehalis could look down and see the woman’s raped cunt lips, the protruding, swollen cunt lips an angry red from the pounding she had taken from the Arab‘s cock. He stared at Cathy’s private parts, his gaze running from her ass hole down her smooth, shaven cunt, the white remnants of the Arab’s cum still visible on her cunt lips. The wrinkled ass hole opened slightly - invitingly- under the pressure from his fingers. It seemed so small to Kehalis. He licked his lips as he stared down at the contrast between his dark hands and Cathy’s white ass. Then he took his very erect cock in one hand and placed the tip at that tiny opening. He paused briefly to spit on one of his hands and use that to lubricate his cock. Then, with no more preparation than that, he began to force his into Cathy’s bowels. His cock head began to sink into that tiny opening, cruelly stretching Cathy’s tight little sphincter ring. His hands tried to pull her ass apart as one would split a peach as he forced his way into her.

Until she felt his cock press into her tiny anal opening, Cathy had lain passively on her face, too shocked by her brutal rape to fight the men surrounding her, wanting only to shut her eyes and escape the hungry looks of the men around her. But as Kehalis’ cock began its invasion of her virgin ass hole, Cathy came out of her rape induced lethargy. Cathy began to buck and wiggled underneath him, frantically trying to escape from his cock. Hoarsely, Kehalis called on another for assistance. As this man held Cathy down by her shoulders, Kehalis tightly gripped her hips and leaned against her, placing all his weight behind his hard cock. Hard as steel, his cock slowly overwhelmed her resistance and sank deeper into Cathy’s tiny ass hole despite her frantic attempts to resist him by tightening her sphincter muscles against him.

" AAAGGHHHHEEEE! YOU’RE KILLING ME... NOOEEE! STOP IT!.... STOP PLEASEEE"

The Arab stood to one side now, arms crossed over his chest, savoring the sight of Cathy’s agony filled face as Kehalis forced his cock into her ass. He watched as Kehalis half climbed onto her back, straddling Cathy’s buttocks for a better shot at her tight ass as he fought to impale her with his cock. The other men were crowding close around her now, their attention centered on the one sided struggle between Kehalis’s cock and Cathy‘s anus, their hands timidly beginning to reach out to grip a breast or stroke her soft blonde hair. But the Arab was satisfied with this position against the cave wall. From there he could watch- and enjoy -the expressions on the faces of both Cathy and Kehalis. Both appeared to be in the grip of an overwhelming emotion. Their expressions were almost identical even though based on polar opposite emotions- Cathy’s on the pain and humiliation she was experiencing as a strange man fought to sodomize her in front of a screaming crowd of his fellows, Kehalis’ on an uncontrollable lust to possess a woman unlike any he had ever seen in his barren primitive life. The look in Kehalis’ eyes the Arab had seen before. But the intensity of Cathy’s agony was unique in his experience, he could not compare it to anything he had ever seen except... perhaps.... the agony of death.

Just as if she were giving birth,, Cathy was panting like a dog as she tried to deal with the overwhelming pain of the cock penetrating her guts. Frantically she tried to escape the cock invading her ass chute, her powerful arm and leg muscles straining against the ropes binding her, her sphincter fighting to expel the cock which was forcing its way inside her. Pain, and the fear of more pain, gave new dimensions to her already considerable strength. But to no avail. She could neither break out of the ropes holding her captive nor force his cock out of her body. His weight, pressing his rock hard cock deeper into her, defeated her best efforts at resistance, strong though they were. His cock was by now firmly seated inside her ass channel. Panic filled Cathy’s eyes. Her mind was overloaded by the waves of fear/pain coming from her ass as Kehalis brutally forced his way even deeper inside her heretofore virgin ass. Cathy felt as if a baseball bat was being forced up her ass; she feared that he was going to split her in two. She was sure that she must die, that his cock had torn her insides apart. Like a wild animal caught in a trap, Cathy struggled even more frantically, her entire body one knotted muscle as she fought against the ropes binding her, the hard hands running over her nude body, and the huge cock impaling her, stabbing deeper and deeper into her. Finally, unable to endure the uneven struggle any longer, Cathy’s body took over from her mind, Her body began to shut down, to surrender to Kehalis’ cock- too exhausted, too pain filled to resist any longer. But her mind remained clear. And painfully aware of what was being done to her.

" AHHEEEE.... oh.. no .. please... stop... my ass.. can’t... AHHEEEE"

When Kehalis stopped to catch his breath, perched like a jockey on top of Cathy’s upturned ass, her sphincter muscle had the opportunity to expand, allowing itself to adjust to the girth of Kehalis’ cock. Once her sphincter had loosened even slightly, Kehalis’ path forward was clear. Then it took only three or four jackhammer strokes with his cock to fully penetrate Cathy’s ass chute, sinking up to his wiry cock hairs in the now loose ass chute. Even after it had finally ceased to fight him, her sphincter still gripped the base of his cock tightly, milking the base like a small, tightly gripping hand . But the head of his cock felt no resistance as it sank deeper into Cathy. It felt to Kehalis as if his cock had sunk into emptiness, thrust into a wide warm oven. As the Arab and his men watched, Kehalis began to ride the bound body of the captive female pilot, his cock relentlessly moving in and out of her increasingly open ass hole like a piston. Now that he was fully seated inside her, Kehalis stood erect, his feet braced shoulder width apart. He pulled back on Cathy, dragging her hips off the edge of the sleeping platform. He held her there, his hands gripping the ropes tying her lower legs under her thighs. He used these a handles, to pull her back toward him as he plowed into her ass hole with long powerful strokes. He slammed into her ass with all the power of his strong arms and legs. Involuntarily, the bound blonde underneath him arched her back in response to each deep, hard stroke. The watching Arab could see Cathy’s bound hands clenching helplessly each time Kehalis plowed into her ass, the neatly trimmed red nails of her fingers drawing blood from the flesh of her palms. Her body was almost limp. Cathy no longer screamed out angry or pleading words, just incoherent sounds. A long moan came out of her open mouth, the volume rising and falling wordlessly in time with Kehalis’ thrusts and withdrawals.

" aaheee... aaheee.. aaaHHEE. AAAAHEEEEE!"

Relentlessly Kehalis sodomized the bound female Captain, as the men around him chanted and clapped their hands in time with his thrusts into Cathy’s open ass hole. It seemed to Cathy as if Kehalis would last forever, plowing relentlessly into her ass hole like some sort of inhuman fucking machine. Kehalis reached and stayed on the edge of cumming for stroke after stroke, brutally battering Cathy’s body, but unable to reach his climax. By now his agony was almost the equal of Cathy’s. He was only able to finally achieve release when he threw himself forward onto Cathy’s back, grasping her blonde hair with one hand to force her head 90 degrees to her left so that he could see her crying, agony filled face as he raped her ass. Only then, after he had looked into her eyes, felt her body shuddering beneath him, and once again surrounded himself with her fragrance could he find release. Crying out in relief, he filled her ass chute with his hot cum and then collapsed onto her back. Kehalis lay on her for a moment, too exhausted to move, until another man, impatient now for his turn, pulled him away. The Arab had only a glimpse of Cathy before the next man covered her nude body again. But the image of the open "O’ of her asshole, his man cum dripping out of it, was forever burn into his memory.

The next man took her just as brutally as Kehalis had. In a single thrust he impaled Cathy on his hard cock, sinking up to his pubic hairs in her. He hunched over her, holding onto the rope tying Cathy’s elbows together, using it as a grip as he pulled her back onto his cock at the same time as he thrust forward. He plowed relentlessly into her by now open ass hole as Cathy, her body slack and unresisting, continued making small moaning sounds underneath him. She could manage nothing more. Each time he slammed into her, he made her body shake and knocked the air out of her lungs. Uncaring of her, the man took his pleasure as quickly and as brutally as he could. Then he too spent himself inside her, filled her with a new flood of hot cum, collapsed on her nude back, and was in his turn pulled off her and replaced by a new man. Cathy lost track of when one man had finished and of when the next man thrust into her. It all became one long rape to her; the men became one. It was all one huge cock, endlessly and painfully sodomizing her. She only knew that the feeling of impalement, the feeling of having her ass painfully full of cock, had become her reality, her entire world. Cathy no longer struggled against the men sodomizing her. Her sweat slick body had surrendered to Kehalis; now her will surrendered to this man as well. She became nothing more than their fuck toy. An unresisting Cathy lay on her belly on the hard platform while man after man sodomized her. She lay there passively as man after man plowed into her ass hole until the pain in her rear slowly became nothing more than a dull , empty ache. As the Arab and Kehalis watched, nine men reamed open Cathy’s ass hole and filled it with their hot, white cum. Through it all, she lay there face down, eyes shut, her full red lips open, panting for breath between moans. Cathy’s strong body gleamed as if it had been oiled, the result of the light reflecting off the sweat covering her bare skin, the sweat a mixture of her own and the sweat dripping off the men mounting her . Bound and helpless, her nude body buffeted by the violent thrusts of men’s cocks, Cathy lay passively underneath her attackers, beyond tears, beyond words, totally exhausted.

As she lay there, her beauty defiled by the cum and sweat of the men brutally sodomizing her, Cathy heard a voice whispering in English into her ear. It took her several seconds before she could make sense of the words. Then she shivered as she realized that it was the Arab whose words she was hearing softly repeated over and over into her ear.

" This is my power over you, slave. I control your body, not you. I have defeated you in battle. You are my slave. I can do as I wish with your body. I can give it to whomever I wish........ even these pigs, if it pleases me. This is my mastery over you, slave. "

Cathy lost all track of time long before the last man had spent himself inside her bowels. Only half conscious, she knew only dimly that the men had stopped raping her. She knew that only because now she felt an emptiness in her cruelly stretched asshole instead of the familiar fullness of a hard cock. Stretched by ten cocks, her ass hole had been reamed out, made into an open, apparently bottomless pit, and then filled with what felt like a gallon of man cum. A river of the white sticky fluid flowed out of Cathy’s ass hole to run down her red, abused cunt lips and slowly drip drop by drop onto the hard packed earth of the sleeping platform. The now sated men stood around her in a half circle, staring down at her, at the obscene sight of her open, dripping ass. No one spoke as they stared down at what they had done to Cathy. One by one, they silently slipped away to their blankets in the cave passage outside the room. Even Kehalis slipped silently away, his lust satisfied, but his hatred for the Arab and his desire to possess the American woman greater than before. Eventually the Arab was left alone with Cathy.

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Once the men had left her alone, Cathy had quickly fallen into an exhausted sleep. But even in her exhaustion, she could not escape her rapists. Her mind relived bits and pieces of her rape and sodomy throughout the rest of the night, replaying them over and over in her mind. After some few hours of restless sleep, it was one of those nightmare images of her attackers- the scene where they were holding her down as the ugly one’s cock had forced its way into her ass - that jerked Cathy back into consciousness , screaming:

" NO.. LEAVE ME ALONE! .....GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU BASTARDS!"

Bolting upright on the platform, Cathy’s eyes searched frantically around her for her attackers. It was only then that she realized that she was alone in the small room. She was still nude, though a blanket had been thrown over her. Her ankles had been untied from her thighs and tied together loosely at the ankles, allowing them to stretch out after the torture of their bondage. Her elbows had also been untied, though her wrists were still bound together behind her back. The rope around her neck still bound her to the platform’s wooden frame. Her body ached each time she moved. Worse, her ass hole was throbbing, a dull empty ache that brought back unbidden memories of what the Arab had done to her last night. She shuddered at the memory of the anal gang rape he had put her through.

As if on cue, the Arab entered the room, a large water bottle and a piece of the local flat bread held in his hands. Cathy shrank back from him as he approached her, but, tied as she was, there was no escaping him. He put the water bottle and the bread down beside her and took out his knife. Rather than slash her rope as he had done last night- Cathy thought it was just last night, though it seemed an eternity ago- he used its tip to pry apart the knot and untie the rope binding her wrists. The rope around her neck remained, but he did untie the end securing her to the platform frame. The rope around her ankles received the same treatment, leaving Cathy unbound for the first time since her rape. When he stepped back, knife still in hand, Cathy slowly stood, rubbing the rope burns on her wrists as she tried work the stiffness out of her body. Her arms and legs felt as if red hot pins were piercing them as circulation, and with it sensation, returned to the nerve endings. As her body slowly began to function again, the thought of escape, of attacking the dark man and bolting, ran through her mind until the sounds outside the doorway reminded her of the men between her and freedom. It also reminded Cathy of her nudity. Instinctively, she tried to shield herself with her arms, much to the amusement of the Arab. Seeing his smile and realizing the futility of her gesture, Cathy lowered her arms and stood there in front of him, body proudly displayed, glaring but silent. She half expected him to rape her again, but the tall man only gestured at the food and water. Hungrily, Cathy attacked the dry bread, washing it down with huge gulps from the earthenware water bottle. He let her eat all of the bread before he spoke.

" Relieve yourself there , in that corner. Quickly!"

Only half believing that the Arab mean what he had said, but very aware of the pressure building up in her bowels and urethra, Cathy awkwardly staggered the few steps to the small hole cut into the rock floor at the corner. Painfully aware of the man’s eyes watching her, Cathy squatted over it and relieved herself. Once finished, she stood awkwardly and waited.

Tossing Cathy the ruined bra he had cut off her last night and a small yellow bar of soap, the Arab ordered:

" Clean herself up, slave. You look disgusting."

Cathy’s face reddened as he spoke. She knew she looked disgusting. She could feel the dried cum covering her skin on the insides of her thighs, her cunt, and her ass cheeks. Trying to preserve some dignity even now, Cathy turned her back on the Arab and slowly, thoroughly washed herself. She scrubbed her shaven private parts raw trying to get the feel and the smell of the men’s cum off her. Then she did the same to her breasts and abdomen. Driven by her revulsion at her rape, Cathy scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, determined to wash away at least the physical traces of her rape and sodomy even if she knew she could never wash them out of her mind. Compulsively, she scrubbed herself again and again until the Arab tired of her efforts. He threw her boots, her flight suit, and her flight jacket at her feet and growled:

" Enough, slave! Put these on. They will do until I can get you a proper garment for a woman, a burkha."

Eagerly Cathy picked up the clothes thrown at her feet. She virtually threw on the baggy green flight suit in her eagerness to cover herself. As she bent to put on her boots, she carefully asked in a low voice,

" What about my long underwear. It is so cold here. ..." Seeing his face darken, Cathy belatedly added "Master" to her words.

" Enough. A woman does not question a man nor a slave her Master."

For a moment, Cathy was tempted to revisit her argument that she was not a slave, but a prisoner of war. But she realized that there was no profit and some danger in it. Instead, she bit her tongue and remained silent, hoping she could reason with her captor if she just didn’t anger him. She completed dressing in silence, putting on her boots, and then the flight jacket over her flight suit. It felt so good to Cathy to have clothes on again.

"Turn around, slave, and put your hands behind your back"

Cathy’s strong body stiffened as she heard that, muscles tensing. She had only a split second to decide whether she would fight or submit. Once again, her reason told her to submit, that there was no sense fighting until she could see an opportunity to escape. Exhaling loudly, she turned her back to him and meekly crossed her wrists behind her strong back.

If Cathy had seen the wolfish smile that crossed the Arab’s face when she did that, she would have known that she had made the wrong decision. Once she turned and offered him her wrists, the Arab moved quickly to tie her wrists together behind her broad back. Then he pushed her face down on the platform, crossed her ankles, and tied her booted feet together. When he had finished tying her feet together, the Arab took the running end of the rope which encircled Cathy’s neck and pulled it taunt. He bent Cathy’s legs back and tied the running end of the rope encircling her neck to Cathy’s booted feet, painfully bending the muscular young woman into the shape of a bow, feet and back forced towards each other until they almost touched. When he released her, Kathy found she had to further arch her back just to keep from choking herself to death. He stepped back to admire his work, leaving Cathy hog-tied on her stomach on the sleeping platform, her body painfully bent backwards until her short blonde hair was no more than eighteen inches from the soles of her boots. He watched as Cathy fought against the ropes, enjoying the sight of powerful arm and back muscles moving under her smooth skin as she struggled. He waited patiently for Cathy to realize that not only could she not escape the ropes holding her, but that she had to use all her strength simply to keep her legs form relaxing and slowly choking her to death. That reality quickly came home to Cathy as the rope tied to her booted feet tightened around her neck. All she could do then was to struggle to keep still despite the unnatural position in which he had bound her. Once the Arab was satisfied that the blonde had enough sense- and self discipline- not to strangle herself, he left her alone in the small room, taking the room’s only source of light, the electric lantern, with him, leaving Cathy hog tied and alone in the silent darkness.

After only a few moments, Cathy began to feel the strain of maintaining her bowed position. As time dragged on in the dark, the strain on her muscles grew. Her legs began to tire first, the task of keeping her feet in their heavy combat boots stretched forward to relieve the pressure on the rope around her neck growing more difficult with each moment. Her legs- strong though they were- began to cramp, then to shake from the strain. Her back began to ache as well, as did her neck as a result of its extended position. In time, Cathy’s body was covered in sweat as she struggled to remain still, her strong muscles in agony from the demands this placed upon them. Eventually a soft moan escaped from her tightly compressed lips as her leg muscles weaken and slipped back a fraction of an inch, tightening the rope around her throat by another millimeter. Alone in the darkness, Cathy began to cry, moving beyond fear to terror, the terror of dying a millimeter at a time. Her only solace the thought that they would be coming to rescue her any time now. They had to be coming......... they had to.

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As Cathy sweated, struggled and cried in the dark, the Arab drank tea with the Poshtoons in the large central room of the cave. The men were discussing again and again the attack on the helicopter, each man’s role in defeating the Americans growing with each retelling of the story. Though he could not speak their language, the Arab could sense their mood easily enough. He could see that it was happy even without the terse and begrudging translation provided by the dour Kehalis. . Those translations grew even more terse as the men’s boasting turned to last night’s anal rape of the blonde American. More from their faces and their extravagant gestures- and the hardening expression on Kehalis’ face- than from Kehalis‘ translation, the Arab could sense that the men viewed him more favorably now, and that their taste of the woman had taken away their curiosity about her, at least for the moment. He did not think that Kehalis would have much success turning the men against him over her now. That, he knew, could change quickly. But for the moment, he decided that his main problem was the Americans rather than the men he nominally led. Patiently, he waited for the conversation to work its way from what they had done to what they must do next. They must either flee to the safety of the tribal area over the border or remain here in hiding until the search died down. Even in his inexperience, he could see that the barren hillsides would provide them no cover from an aerial search if they simply tried to flee back to the border and safety. It was obvious to him that they should stay here in the cave. The Americans would no doubt search for their lost whore. But in a few days, there would be other emergencies , other problems, which would require their attention and divert the troops searching for her. The search for the woman would be , if not actually forgotten, reduced to a token effort with little chance of success. Once the decision to stay here and hid had been made, the question of whether or not they would be found by the American search was, to the Arab’s mind, a matter of God’s will. There was no use further worrying about it. They had water from a nearby stream, but they would need food beyond the pocket full of bread and the sack of tea the men each carried with them if they were to stay here. The question of food, as well as proper clothing for his new female slave, were all that concerned the Arab now. Patiently he waited for the subject to work its way to food, his mind half on the Pashtoons and half on the woman he had left bound in the dark room.

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As the Arab sipped tea and Cathy suffered, the Americans were indeed coming. They had discovered the crash site shortly before dawn. It had taken that long because, without any idea when the aircraft went down, the aviation battalion had to search the entire return leg outlined in Cathy’s flight plan. Even with every available helicopter in the air, that had taken hours. By the time the aircraft reached the area of the crash, the flames on the downed helicopter had died out, leaving only darkness. Without on-board thermal sensors, the searching UH-60’s from Cathy’s aviation battalion saw nothing on their first pass through the area but the indistinct greenish jumble of the mountains below them as seen through their night vision goggles. It was only when the thermal gunner’s sight on one of the three attached AH-64 Apache attack helicopter detected the hot metal of the crashed helicopter to the east of the presumed flight path that the searchers learned for sure what had happened to the missing UH-60. Forbidden to land because of the danger of an ambush set around the crash site, the air crews could only circle helplessly and wait until an infantry company was assembled and flown to the site to secure it. Once the site had been secured, it took some hours before the searchers realized that there was a body missing. Which crew member was missing and presumed captured was unclear at that time due to the badly burned condition of two of the bodies. After a local search turned up nothing. more hours were lost while additional troops were transported in and CIA predator unmanned drones diverted from other duties to search the surrounding mountainous terrain. Mindful of the delay and desperate to keep whoever had taken one of the aircrew captive from reaching sanctuary in Pakistan, the ground commander made a fateful decision. He decided to use their helicopters to leapfrog ahead of the presumed fleeing enemy and land the troops hard on the border with orders to search back northwest toward the crash site. Aside from the predator drones high overhead, no searchers entered the valley of Kehalis’ cave.

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Hours later when the Arab returned to the room, he saw Cathy still struggling to keep her legs from relaxing and tightening the rope around her neck as her leg muscles slowly weakened. She seemed unaware of his return, too absorbed in her desperate struggle to notice him. He turned up the lantern and put it on the platform by her. He stared intently at Cathy’s face in the lamplight. It was covered in her sweat, jaw clinched , the lips a tight red line across her face, her eyes tightly closed as Cathy struggled to remain motionless. He saw that she had turned on her side in her struggles, her body still tightly , cruelly bowed by the rope connecting her booted feet and the nose around her slender neck. Cathy remained unaware of his presence until he reached out and ran his hand over her clothed body, feeling the tension there, the struggle of her will to control her tired muscles. With a start, Cathy’s eyes flew open and a soft "OH" escaped her mouth.

" Do you have anything you wish to ask me., slave?" He asked softly.

" Yes, Master .. please .. release me.. I can’t take this any longer.. Master?"

The Arab could see the desperation as well as the humiliation in her eyes as well as hear it in her soft voice.

" You address me as Master. Do you understand what that means?"

" Yes, I understand. Please.. untied me.. I can’t breath...my legs are so .."

" Tell me what it means, Cathy."

Cathy choked as she fought to get the words out. Horrible as they were to her, she had to accept them.

" Yes.. Master. It means you own me. You can do anything you want with me.. with my body. I am.. Your.. slave."

" Very good, slave. But I know Western woman. I wonder, do you really understand what you are saying?"

" Yes, Master. I am your slave. Your property. Please., the ropes, Master?"

Instead of answering, the Arab unzipped Cathy’s flight jacket and then unzipped the front of her flight suit. He pushed aside the flaps, giving his hand access to the bare skin underneath, to her soft breasts and tight abdomen . He ran his hand under the flight suit and over Cathy’s warm skin. She shuttered under his touch, while trying to remain as still as possible to keep from tightening the rope at her neck. He kneed her breasts like they were bread dough as he spoke to her, his fingers trapping her nipples and crushing them in his grasp.

" These are mine.. to do with as I please. "

" Yes, Master. "

His hands moved down her flat tummy to Cathy’s shaven sex. He pushed the three fingers in a knife hand between her legs to reach Cathy’s cunt lips and clitoris with their tips. Slowly, he began to friction her bare sex, the pressure of his fingertips pleasurable to her despite the pain surrounding her.

" And this, slave. Is it mine too?"

" Yes, Master. Yours."

" Then fuck yourself on my hand, slave. I want you to cum for me."

Desperate to ease the suffering she had endured for what seemed to Cathy forever, she reluctantly obeyed. Cathy willed herself to relax and then to move against his fingers, as far as the ropes allowed her. Soon Cathy could feel herself grow wet as his fingers stroked up and down her slit, reaching and stimulating her sensitive clit irregularly, teasingly. Cathy moaned, moved as much by the sheer humiliation of this as by the simple pleasure it brought her body. She tried to relax her body and do as he ordered, but the tension on her noose made Cathy’s muscles convulse as she fought to keep her legs bent toward her head while moving her cunt against the hard fingers She grew steadily wetter, her breathing grew more and more irregular. Cathy could not deny the arousal she felt as she pressed herself against his hand, as his fingers stimulated her harder now, paying more attention to the little nub of her clitoris. Small, wet sounds began to come from between her thighs as his fingers reached deeper between her legs to stroke the length of her half open cunt. The strokes stopped, causing Cathy to tighten her legs around his hand, trying to get back that sensation. Instead, he took two of his fingers and caught her clit, trapped it between them. With that , his hand speeded up again, its back and forth motion pulling hard on her clit, stimulating it. Cathy’s back arched again despite her fatigue, and as the Arab put his whole arm into manually fucking her trapped nub, she cried out:

" OH... Oh.. Master.. I’m coming.. please... AHHHH.. AHHHHEEEEE"

Cathy’s body went into spasms , the muscles of her strong, athletic body tightening and then relaxing as the small climax washed over her, gone before she had time to enjoy it. His hand slowed and then stopped, still resting against her soaking wet cunt lips as Cathy tried to catch her breath. Despite her best efforts, as she had cum, her tired muscles had convulsed, involuntarily straightening her legs and tightening the rope around her neck, restricting her breathing even further. She had to fight for each breath now. Her face, already flushed red from her climax, turned even redder. There was real panic in her voice as she pleaded:

" Master. Please. I’m choking.. I.. help me."

" I am your Master, Cathy. You have no will against mine. I can bring you pleasure, and I can bring you pain. Even death. It is as God wills. Surrender to me and accept that."

He gripped her flight suit with one hand for leverage and began to push his other hand, the one which had just brought Cathy to climax, deeper into her cunt. The knife edge of his hand penetrated Cathy’s wet, relaxed cunt, the extended fingers sliding inside her with little resistance. As the palm of his hand began to enter her, resistance increased. The width of that hand stretched Cathy cruelly, even more so than the prior rape. Already sore from that rape, the entry of his hand made new pain shoot from Cathy’s cunt to her brain like an electric shock. The Arab‘s hand stretched her wider and wider until finally his entire hand had penetrated Cathy‘s tightly clinched cunt, resting motionless in the wet warmth within. Her body fought back. Her abdominal muscles struggled against the new intruder, her legs pressed together tightly, their large muscles bulging. Unfortunately, her struggles also further tightened the rope encircling Cathy’s slender neck. Her air supply, already restricted, became non-existent. As the Arab slowly closed his hand into a fist deep inside Cathy’s womb, she began to feel increasingly light headed, the effect of oxygen deprivation on her brain. Her mind was confused, unable to think clearly any more, aware only of the pounding he was administering to her cunt with his fist, penetrating her, expanding her womb as never before.

The Arab had formed his fingers into a tight fist. With all the strength of which his strong arm was capable, he drove that fist into Cathy. With short, powerful punches, he pounded into her, brutally fist fucking her. He could hear the wet, squishy sounds of his hand moving against her tightly clinched thighs and the resisting muscles of her wet cunt. He could hear the weak, strangled cries of the woman he was so brutally fist fucking. He could even hear the pounding of his own heart as he used Cathy’s womb for a punching bag. He watched her body jerk involuntarily with each punch, saw the outline of his fist move under the skin of her abdomen, saw the drool pouring out of Cathy’s mouth as her face turned redder and redder, her eyes desperately pleading with him to stop. But he did not stop. Instead he pounded harder into her, feeling Cathy’s womb began to give way, accepting his fist, closing around it, gripping it like a lover. Cathy’s oxygen starved brain was accepting the pain of his assault, opening herself to the brutal assault of his fist , accepting it within her womb, accepting even the blackness closing in one her.

As her body convulsed around his fist, the Arab let go of her flight suit and drew his knife. He thrust the blade under the rope encircling Cathy’s neck and slashed it, freeing her to breath again. At last, Cathy could draw a full breath. Desperately, her body, so long starved for oxygen, sucked as much air into her empty lungs as it physically could. Her body shook with the struggle to breath,. The muscles of her strong feminine body were also convulsing around the fist still buried deep inside as she struggle to draw in breath . His fist had reached so deeply into her that Cathy’s oxygen starved body had given up the struggle to expel it, forced to concentrate on struggling to find oxygen. Now that she could breath again, Cathy ‘s attention returned to the fist moving inside her. But rather than fight against his fist, she now rode it, moved with it. Uninhibited by her confused mind , accepting the pain washing over her, Cathy ’s abdominal muscles closed about the Arab’s fist as if it had been a cock and rode his punches to a second, earth shaking, convulsing climax.

" AAGGHHEEEEEE.... OHHEEEE... I.. I’m ... agheee.. cumming... MASTER.. I’m cumming."

Cathy lay there as her reason slowly returned , her body limp, her strength spent, her clothing soaked in her own sweat, her cunt still full of the Arab’s fist. While still steadily sucking air into to her oxygen starved lungs, Cathy was otherwise too exhausted to move, to even to think. Her body and her will were totally drained. She did not move or even utter a sound when the Arab opened his fist and pulled his hand out of her unresisting cunt with a loud plop. She just lay there motionless, body limp and unresisting.

" Now, I believe you understand what it means to be a slave. To be my possession, my plaything, and no more. Not a Captain ordering men about. Not even a free woman. But a slave, the possession of a man who is truly and by God’s will your Master ."

The Arab left Cathy alone for a few minutes as she fought to recover her composure. Coming on top of the brutal rape and sodomy she had endured the night before, her near death experience combining strangulation and fisting had been a crushing one for Cathy. She felt as if she had died and been reborn, reborn as another person. A weaker woman, one without hope or courage. A woman desperate to survive. It took her some moments before she even had the strength to cry or for her body to begin to shake in reaction to what he had done to her. But Cathy did not have long to mourn the destruction of the woman she had been. She felt the Arab untie her feet, carefully, she noted, preserving the rope for use on her later.

" On your knees slave."

Fearfully Cathy obeyed, sinking shakily to her knees on the cave floor in front of the tall man, her body in pain from every muscle and most of all from the terrible sore, hollow feeling coming from her abused cunt. Her uniform was still unzipped, allowing her two round breasts to be exposed by the open vee of the unzipped suit. He stepped forward so that his crotch was only inches from her face. Cathy watched with resignation as he unzipped his Western style cold weather pants and extracted his very erect cock. He let it hang there in front of her eyes. Cathy had no choice. She could not bring herself to look away. She stared helplessly at his cock, its tip almost touching her

" Have you , how do you say it, ... sucked a man’s cock before? "

Cathy was too exhausted and too frightened to lie to him. In a resigned voice she answered him truthfully.

" Yes, Master."

" But you are not married, are you?"

" No Master."

" Then you are truly a woman of no virtue, aren’t you. A whore like most Western woman."

" Yes, Master."

" Yes what, slave?"

" Yes, Master. I am a whore."

" Then suck me, whore."

He stood unmoving above her as Cathy opened her mouth and took his hard cock inside its warmth. She closed her lips around its shaft, using her tongue to caress the sensitive undersides of his hard cock. With a skill not to be expected of one who had looked so innocence when they had captured her, Cathy used the tips of her teeth to stimulate him as well, the teeth’s hardness a stimulating contrast to the wet warm softness of her lips and tongue as Cathy used all three at once on his cock. Orally stimulating a man had become Cathy’s preferred style of lovemaking when she found a partner she truly wished to please. She preferred it to intercourse because it gave her a feeling of being in control, of setting the pace. Now that feeling of control had been turned on its head. Now her oral skill was a sign of her subservience, her loss of control.

With her hands still tied behind her back and no help from the Arab towering above her, Cathy had to work to keep his cock in her mouth. She forced herself to open her throat, allowing his cock to penetrate her there until its head was banging against her tonsils. She had to fight to control her gag response. She moved her head up and down on his shaft, careful to keep from losing possession of it, wrapping her lips tightly around the fleshy shaft’s width to keep it within her warm, wet mouth. Cathy worked hard to please her rapist, worked harder than she had ever worked before to please any man. She wanted desperately to please the man towering above her, but her motives were as confused as the emotions battling for dominance in her overloaded mind. She was consumed by a fear of the man whose cock she was servicing. But Cathy’s mind had gone beyond the point of simple fear. She had become so desperate to avoid his anger that she was internalizing his aggression against her and finding, if not a pleasure, a feeling of security in preemptively debasing herself. To avoid his wrath, Cathy was desperate enough to try to become whatever the man wanted her to be, no matter how degrading. If he wanted her to be a whore, she would be one. Feverishly she worked her mouth up and down on his shaft- now moving quickly and lightly using her teeth against the sides of his cock ; now moving slowly, lavishing attention on the underside of his cock with the tip of her active tongue. Struggling to fulfill his image of a Western whore, Cathy became one. She used all her skill to stimulate his cock. She held nothing back, no matter how vile it was to her.

The Arab grunted in pleasure as he fought against the strong urge to simply grab Cathy’s head and fuck her face. He willed himself to remain still, allowing the American woman to service his cock while he remained passive. She was, he acknowledged, most skillful. Never had a woman serviced him so well, not even the expensive whores in New York or London whom he had frequented during his misspent youth. The sensation of the alternating hardness of her teeth and the softness and warmth of her lips and tongue sent shivers up his spine. He raised his eyes from the disheveled mop of blonde hair bobbing relentlessly up and down on his cock to fix his eyes on the cave’s ceiling, trying to prolong the pleasurable sensations of her warm, wet mouth caressing his cock for as long as possible. It was a struggle. To distract himself, he ask:

" You are very skillful, slave. So skillful and so practiced that it is clear you must truly be a whore. Not just an immoral woman typical of your degenerate culture, but a whore who sells herself to men. Is this how you service your commanding officer to gain his favor ? Is that how you rose in rank in your Godless army? Or are you a common whore, earning money like this, by servicing the cocks of the men in your Army?

Her mouth full of his cock, Cathy did not answer him, preferring to concentrate on sucking and licking his cock, reluctant to give up possession of his cock to reply to the Arab‘s insults. But the Arab would not allow her to remain mute. Grasping her short blonde hair in one hand, he pulled Cathy’s mouth off his cock and turned her face up to stare into his.

" I ask you a question, slave. What kind of whore are you? Did you whore for anyone in your Godless Army, anyone with the money to buy you, even privates, or did you only whore yourself for the men placed over you, men of high rank, a general perhaps?"

Cathy stared up at him, acutely aware of the hard cock bobbing there inches from her face as she looked into the Arab’s dark, cruel eyes. She was very afraid. She did not dare to tell him the truth, that she was no whore, that she was simply a woman with as much right to seek and give pleasure as a man. In abandoning resistance for submission, Cathy had for the first time really looked at the man who was her captor. That had gained her enough insight about this man who she now called "Master" to realized that the Arab wanted to hear "his" truth, not the truth. He wanted to hear her say that she was a whore. So, that is what she must tell him. To avoid another gang rape, she would become anything he wished her to be. But before answering him, she had to guess what kind of whore it was that he wished her to be. The frightened, confused young female Captain had to decide whether he wished her to be a common whore who fucked men for money or a whore who fucked her superiors for promotion before she responded. She chose the later.

" I was a whore for my senior officers, Master. I fucked colonels and a general."

The Arab smiled at down at her, apparently pleased with her response. He continued to hold her head still with his left hand while he took his erect cock in his other hand. He slowly rubbed his cock’s head over Cathy’s cheeks and then across her lips, stroking her face with it, the strong scent of his cock filing her nostrils. Holding it at the base, the Arab began to strike Cathy’s face with its fleshy head. The sound of his rock hard cock flesh slapping her cheeks echoed in the absolute silence of the small room as he spoke.

" I am pleased to hear your words, Cathy. Kehalis will not be so pleased though. I understand a woman servicing the man in authority over her. It is God’s will that women submit themselves to men, even in your degenerate land. But a women.. a whore.. who trades sex for money disgust me. She is an abhorrence to the eyes of the righteous. If you had been such a whore, I would have given you to him and his men. The same men who raped you last night. Given, not just allowed them to use your body without really hurting you as was I did last night. Given you to them to do with as they wished. You are most fortunate that I chose to take you under my protection, slave. If I were not here to protect you, do you know what those men would do to a Western whore like you? A beautiful , blonde Western whore who wore the uniform of their enemy. "

Cathy shuttered, the images of what they had already done last night filling her mind. She could only numbly shake her head in response. Ignoring her lack of response, the Arab continued speaking. He also continued rubbing his cock head across her face as he spoke.

" Another rape like last night would be only the beginning. It would be much worse for you without me there to protect you. They would all use you, all ten of them. First again like before like a boy and then, when your bottom was no longer tight enough to please them, they would take you like a woman. Once you were too used to stir even their desire any longer, they would certainly kill you. But not quickly. They are a cruel people, as cruel as their land, even if they are a people of the Book. In their minds, an enemy God is so gracious as to deliver into their hands, especially an infidel like you, is one meant to be slowly tortured to death. They would find as much pleasure in torturing you, in seeing your pain, as they would in raping you. At night, around the fire, these men enjoy telling stories of how their grandfathers and great grandfathers used to torture Englishmen they had captured long ago when this land was ruled by the English. I think that the Pashtoons miss the English. Their fathers’ had the occasional Russian to torture, but according to the Poshtoons they were not of the same..... quality. These men have never had any opportunity to use their skills on Westerns. Until God delivered you into my hands. If I allow them, they would be very imaginative in how the killed you. Very imaginative!"

As he spoke, he continued to rub his cock head over her face, now rubbing it against her soft cheeks and parted full lips, pressing his cock firmly against her face, its flesh warm and pungent.

" There was the story they told me about one Englishman, a Captain like you once were, Cathy. Once they had finished taking their pleasures from him, he was staked out naked on the rocky ground. It was summer here, a time of great heat I am told. Besides the stakes holding his hands and feet, two stakes were driven into the ground, one on each side of his head, to force him to stare up, into the sun. Then they carefully cut away his eyelids without harming his eyes themselves, so that he could not close his eyes to protect them from the sun, but had to stare endlessly into its brightness. When they had done that, they had one more thing to do. They forced his mouth open very wide. The Poshtoons carved a stick forked at both ends which they wedged one end against the teeth of his upper jaw and the other end against the teeth of his lower jaw, so that he could not close his mouth. Then they sat and watched him, watching the sun burn his eyes away, watching it burn his naked body to a dark red and beyond, listening to his moans as they would to a musical instrument. They sat around him all this time, drinking tea and talking among themselves, comfortable in the shade, as they watched him suffered. After a while, perhaps the second day, perhaps the third, after he became quiet, they would kick him in his manhood. They would compete to see whose kick could provoke the loudest scream from the bound Captain. As they tortured him, they were careful not to let him die of thirst. That would have been too quick for the Poshtoons. Nor did they simply give him water to keep him alive. That would have been too merciful. To keep the Englishman alive and aware of his pain, they gave him liquid by relieving themselves in his open mouth, the forked stick keeping his mouth open, forcing him to swallow their foul urine. No doubt his own people have long forgotten the Englishman since this happened 70 or more years ago. But the Poshtoons have kept his memory very alive in their stories, or at least kept alive the memory of his long and painful death. I wonder how long you would last under their torture , Cathy. If I allowed them to have you. Would their grandchildren still tell and retell the story of your death in 70 years?"

Thoroughly terrified by the man’s words, Cathy could not keep back her tears. They streamed down her face as the horrible image of suffering the dark man had described came alive in her mind’s eye. But it was not the male body of the English Captain she saw being tortured. She saw herself in that Englishman’s place; saw her naked body staked out in the sun, saw herself cruelly blinded by the burning sun, saw her female body - the body she was so proud of - slowly burned beyond recognition by that relentless sun. It was her cunt that she saw being brutalized by the men’s kicks. And, most vividly of all , it was her open mouth into which she saw the grinning men pissing, their hot, foul tasting, yellow liquid filling her mouth as she desperately fought for breath. The image of dying in such a manner filled Cathy with absolute terror, a terror born as much of the ignominy of such a death as the pain it promised. By this time, Cathy had begun to distinguish between the English speaking, obviously educated Arab and his crude, nameless hired thugs, the Poshtoons. After the anal gang rape she had experienced at the hands of the Poshtoons, the Arab’s story about their cruelty seemed to her to be quite believable. The Arab had no trouble in planting in Cathy’s confused, fear filled mind the idea that they desired to torture her to death and that he was her only protector against them.

Overwhelmed by all the abuse she had experienced and desperate for some ray of hope, even his primitive " Good cop/Bad cop" approach was effective. Cathy was frightened enough to grasp at his offer to be her protector, even when that offer came from her rapist. She to herself that she had to submit to him, to serve him sexually, to save herself from what she was convinced would be a painful and degrading death at the hands of the Poshtoons. Anything, her survival instincts told her, was preferrable to death. Cathy bent her head and begged:

" Please don’t let them take me again! Please, Master!"

" I shall protect you Cathy. But only for as long as you are my slave."

" I will be your slave, Master. Just don‘t let them kill me like that."

" Then you must show your Master your submission, slave."

The Arab let go of his cock, allowing it to hang there almost touching her face. He used one hand to undo the belt to his pants and to push them and his thermal underwear down to his thighs, fully exposing his cock as well as exposing his heavy balls and thick pubic hairs to Cathy’s eyes for the first time. She could only stare at his sex, it filling her field of vision as the hand in her hair gently urged her face forward, into his crotch. Cathy did not resist as he pushed her face into the wiry hairs surrounding his cock. His unwashed odor of maleness filled her nostrils, overwhelming her.

" Beg me for the privilege of worshiping your Master’s cock, slave!"

Her face burning in humiliation and disgusted by her weakness, Cathy nevertheless managed to choke out the words the Arab wanted to hear.

" Master...... please.. let me ...suck your cock."

" Lick me, Cathy. Lick me, my slave."

Obediently, or more accurately, devoid of a will of her own, Cathy did as he ordered. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked the length of his cock as it hung before her before moving upward into the thick mat of dark hair surrounding its base. She licked him there, her salvia soaking his cock hairs, turning them into a dense wet mat, as their strong male taste over powered her taste buds . He gently pushed Cathy’s head lower, moving her tongue downward towards his full ball sack. Again, Cathy used her tongue to caress him, licking his ball sack with the flat of her tongue, wetting the skin with her drool, and then using the tip to find and explore the balls with in that sack.

" Good, slave. Continue."

Her salvia covering his ball sack felt cool to the man towering above her. He shivered as her tongue worked at finding and teasing first one then the other of his balls. Despite his efforts to remain silent, a gasp escaped his lips as Cathy took his entire ball sack into her wide open mouth and held it there in the warmth of her mouth as she worked her tongue over the bottom of his ball sack. He was close to cumming now, too close. The Arab pulled her mouth away, letting his balls swing free again in the cold air of the room. He smiled as a soft "Oh" came from Cathy’s lips when his ball sack escaped her mouth. Then he let go of her hair and turned away from Cathy, turned his back to present his naked buttocks to her.

" Continue." He ordered, unsure of exactly what the American woman’s response would be. His treatment of Cathy was based on instinct guided as well by his cultural prejudices. He was ignorant of the psychology of captivity, specifically the tendency of captives to identify with and strive to please their captors, what psychologists termed the Stockholm Syndrome, The Arab did not understand exactly why Cathy’s initially spirited resistance had changed into resigned submission. But he did understand that a strong hand and harsh punishments were the way to control a woman. And he was eager to test the extent of Cathy’s new submission. He could think of no more degrading act than what he was now ordering her to perform. This would be a true test of her submission. There was a brief hesitation as Cathy struggled to come to grips with his demand. Then submission. Cathy leaned forward slightly and begun to lick his unwashed buttocks. She ran the flat of her tongue over each of his hard buttocks in turn, leaving each shiny from her spit, as the man’s ass cheeks clinched tightly in response to the soft touch of her tongue. That accomplished, Cathy could not longer delay. She closed her eyes while doing her best to similarly shut her mind to what she was about to . Bracing herself, she pressed her full lips against his ass hole, the unwashed smell overpowering her senses. Cathy quickly licked his ass hole, intimately caressing him with the flat of her tongue. That done, she sat back on her heels and silently waited , desperately hoping the man would find that one lick to be enough. Only his silence followed. Sensing his impatience, driven by her need to please the man who held her life in his hands, Cathy sighed and leaned forward. She began to work the flat of her tongue on his asshole, licking the wrinkled star of his asshole again and again, even thrusting against it with the tip of her pink tongue, the tip briefly penetrating into the filthy depths. It seemed an eternity of humiliation to Cathy before the man finally said "enough" and turned back towards her, returning his cock to her lips.

Eagerly Cathy accepted his cock back into her mouth, relieved to be allowed the less humiliating task of sucking the dark man’s cock rather than his ass hole. She opened her mouth and took his erect cock deep into her warm mouth. Once again, she began to use her tongue and teeth to service his cock, desperate to please her ......... captor... Master ......rapist... protector?? Cathy was no longer sure what their relationship was. The black and white she had expected of a prisoner of war experience had been shattered into a whole spectrum of strange colors. She only knew that she had to obey him, had to please him. So she applied every oral skill she knew, every trick, to that end.

The feeling of Cathy’s tongue pressing into his ass hole had sent a jolt of electricity through the Arab. As erotic as the soft touch of her tongue against his anus was, it was the total submission of his female captive through this debasing act which threatened to push him over the top. He could barely keep his cock from shooting before he had reentered her soft mouth. But once safely inside her mouth, her slavish worship of his cock was no longer enough. Instead he had to take her, to show her the power he held over her. He grabbed Cathy’s head in both hands and held it stationary as he began to fuck Cathy’s mouth, treating her mouth as if it were her cunt. He brutally rammed his cock deeper into her throat, battering its head against the back of her throat now. Helpless against his fury, Cathy could only strain to hold her mouth open, open for him to rape, and struggle to breath as his cock assaulted her. She did not fight back against him as he raped her mouth; instead she opened her self to him, submitting to his cock, accepting his assault, accepting his violence against her as her due. The strong young blonde woman arched her back, thrusting herself forward into his battering ram of a cock, not away from it. She used her strength not to fight against him, but to hold herself open to him, to enable her to endure the battering of the Arab’s jack hammer cock.

Again and again the Arab’s rock hard cock plowed into Cathy’s mouth, his hips banging hard against her now bruised and bloody lips as he raped her mouth. She knelt submissively before him on her knees, upper body erect, leaning into his thrusts as he rode her. Cathy’s breasts, still exposed by the unzipped flight suit, bounced with the force of his thrusts, her thick red nipples erect in a masochistic response to the punishment and humiliation she had suffered. Her eyes were tightly shut ; her ears were filled with the loud, wet sounds of his cock moving in and out of her mouth. Tears streamed down Cathy’s flushed cheeks as she fought to breath under the assault of his cock His cock was killing her, choking her. Her head began to swim as she fought to breath.

She welcomed the feeling of his scalding hot cum striking her throat, bitter taste of that cum on her tongue. It came as a real relief to Cathy; she hoped that the flood of his cum marked an end to his assault. Desperately, Cathy choked down the man cum filling her throat and mouth, struggling to breath as she frantically swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his sticky cum. Through it all, his cock continued to shoot successive wads of cum into her mouth, replacing each mouthful as fast as she could swallow it. It seemed to Cathy as if he would drown her in a flood of his cum. It overflowed her mouth, running out between her lips despite her best efforts, and running in a thick stream down her chin. The taste and feel of his cum filled her mouth even after she had choke down the cum itself,. It overwhelmed her taste buds, making Cathy fear that she would never be able to rid herself of that sticky feeling and strong taste. She feared that it would stay with her forever as a reminder of his rape of her mouth. Apparently not satisfied with filling her mouth with his cum, the Arab now pulled his half erect, still dripping cock from Cathy’s mouth and rubbed it over her tear stained cheeks. He marked her cheeks with his cum, smearing the scent of his cum over them, marking her as his in the most primitive, animal like manner.
10 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-04-20 00:09:32
When they say between a rock and a hard place, their not kidding

anonymous readerReport

2011-10-24 03:38:47
i wish to fuck her...

anonymous readerReport

2011-02-19 03:24:19
I am planning on writing a sequil ----- it will be called "Pay back is a Bitch" ~~~~ guess who comes out on top. Men tend to underestimate us women ---- especially those of us who are trained in self-defense and are sick to death of men raping us ---- like the reporter who was violently gang raped and beated in Egypt. Tell me why i hate men -------

jreefsenReport

2009-11-20 04:52:03
I'm a reader from the Netherlands and I've read your four stories, rape in Afghanistan and they are very good, when will part 5, 6 etc follow Jim

READERReport

2009-07-03 10:55:44
Good story, but I agree that they need to written in shorter paragraphs, plus spell check would't hurt....please continue.

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