An American prisoner breaks out of his Chinese prison when he encounters a sultry guard…
I used AI draft this story, and then I revised it. The story contains small penis humiliation and light ball busting. If you’re looking for something BDSM/NC, you won’t like this.
The metal fence groaned under Jim's weight as he vaulted over the last barrier between him and freedom. Behind him, two of his guys—Ricky and Dex—hit the dirt with soft thuds, their breathing ragged from the sprint. “See? I told you this would be as easy as Detroit,” Dex jubilantly whispered.
The warm and humid Hunan air clung to their skin, as if the land itself were trying to hold back the escaped prisoners. The floodlights painted everything in jagged shadows, but the real problem stood ten feet ahead: a Chinese guard in a crisp uniform, her pistol holstered at her hip. She hadn’t seen them yet, her back turned as she adjusted her radio. The guard couldn’t have been more than five-foot-two, her uniform stretched tight over rounded hips. Long, straight black hair cascaded down her back.
Jim moved before he thought, tackling her hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She didn’t stand much of a chance, being a foot and a half shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than him. Her knees hit the dirt, arms pinned beneath his weight as he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Not a fucking sound," he hissed, close enough to smell the floral shampoo in her hair. She tensed, but didn’t fight—smart. The patrol’s footsteps crunched gravel somewhere beyond the fence line. If she yelled, they’d be on the convicts before they could get away.
His grip slackened just enough to shift his weight, and that’s when he noticed the tear in her pants—right at the seam of her thigh, split open from the scuffle. Pale skin, pale as porcelain, peeked through, the edge of white cotton panties visible where her legs were forced together. His pulse spiked, the danger of the moment twisting into something hotter. "Well shit," he mused, dragging a calloused finger along the exposed underwear. She jerked, a muffled noise escaping his palm.
"Bet you never had an American barbarian’s hands on you before," Jim taunted, pressing harder. The patrol’s voices faded into the distance. Ricky groaned under his breath, "Jesus fucking Christ, man." But Jim didn’t care.
His thumb worked the lily-white fabric, grinding slow circles until the cotton clung to her folds. She twisted her hips and squirmed. "Yeah, you like that?" He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Bet your little commie boyfriends don’t know how to touch a pussy right."
Her thighs tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Jim chuckled, low and mean. "Fraternizing with the enemy, are you?" he taunted. He now wiggled three fingers through the hole in her pants, and rubbed them up and down against the cotton-covered slit. Then, he shifted his grip to pinch the fabric between his fingers and tug—just enough for air to rush in and greet her folds, but not so much to expose her sex to him. "Want this American to fuck you?"
She tossed her head as she squirmed, her long black hair whipping in the dim light. Jim grinned and released her panties, letting them slap against her core. Then he pressed his fingers harder against her, dragging the gentle fabric in slow circles. "Do you want some big American barbarian cock?" he continued, voice dropping to a mocking growl. "Do you want this dumb, uncivilized, American brute to give you a star spangled fucking?"
Her breathing hitched, her body trembling under his weight—but then she twisted her head back, turning her placid expression to him, dark eyes locking onto his. Then, she wordlessly glanced downwards—not at him, but at the breach in her pants where his fingers teased her. The deliberate flick of her gaze sent a jolt through him. Jim froze, his smirk faltering. He studied her expression—the slight parting of her lips, the flush creeping up her neck—and realization kicked him in the gut. "No way," he muttered, half-laughing. "You’re serious?"
“I’ll be damned,” Dex mused with a devilish smile. Ricky cursed under his breath. "Unbelievable. Dude, we are literally mid-escape—" Jim ignored him, already fumbling with his belt buckle. The guard arched her back slightly, pressing her ass against him in silent invitation.
Through the torn fabric of her pants, Jim hooked two fingers into the her panties and yanked them aside. The sight punched the air from his lungs—her cunt glistened under the dim floodlights, swollen lips parted and slick with want. "Fuck me," he breathed, dragging his thumb through the mess of her. "You're dripping, you little traitor. Little communist guard getting wet for the enemy!" She shuddered, biting her lip in the unconscious throws of lust.
Jim didn't bother with preamble—he shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, already rigid and twitching against her thigh. He spat into his palm, gave himself a rough stroke, and lined up. The first thrust was swift—he buried himself to the hilt in one go, her tight heat clamping down on him with a wet gasp. "That's it," he snarled, hips snapping forward. "Take your fucking American invasion." Dex rolled his eyes and snickered.
She arched sharply, her breath hitching—then her head twisted back over her shoulder, black hair sticking to her sweat-slicked neck. Her nose wrinkled, lips curling in open disdain as her eyes flicked down to where their bodies met. Jim caught the look immediately: that dismissive scrunch of her face, the way her brow pinched. It was pained disappointment, as if she’d opened an iPhone box only to find a Nokia. His gut twisted. "The fuck’s that face for?" he growled.
His hips stuttered, but he didn’t stop—if anything, he fucked into her harder, grinding his pelvis against her ass with vindictive force. "Oh, I get it," he snarled, gripping her soft hips tightly. "Not big enough for the mighty Chinese empire?" She exhaled through her nose, a soft, derisive sound that made his teeth clench.
Jim leaned down, pressing his chest against her back, his breath hot on her neck. "Well guess what?" He dragged his cock out almost entirely, then shoved back in with a wet slap. "I don’t give a fuck. I know I’m good. And I’m going to enjoy this either way." She tossed her head, as if to laugh. But the lie burned in his throat—her expression had carved a hole in his pride, and now he couldn’t unsee it. She yawned, twisting the knife deeper.
Jim had had enough. He pulled out partially, this time leaving the head of his apparently unsatisfactory cock inside. He gripped the base of his scrotum and dragged his balls forward, pressing them against her slick entrance. "Well how do you like this?" he muttered petulantly, pushing until the soft weight of them nudged inside her. The pressure of his heavy nuts against her engorged folds built until, suddenly, righty slipped past the gate and joined his penis inside her. Moments later, lefty followed. Her breath caught, thighs tensing—not in protest, but surprise. She shuddered, her cunt fluttering around the intrusion.
Jim resumed pistoning her womanhood. Her face twisted again, but this time it wasn’t disdain—her lips parted on a silent gasp, her eyelashes fluttering as her hips twitched back against him. Jim groaned, grinding deeper, his cock together with his testicles inside her. "Try this," he hissed. "Judgy bitch."
Jim ground his hips in slow circles, sweat dripping down his temple. His balls pressed against her inner walls, thick and obscene. "How’s that?" he rasped. She looked up at him and blinked, slow, deliberate. Then, abruptly, she clenched around him, tight and deliberate, milking him in a vicious pulse. His knees almost buckled. "Fuck—". The elixir of pain and pleasure overwhelmed him. When her powerful pussy released him, he wasted no time in returning to thrusting.
The wet slide of his balls inside her was obscene, her body yielding greedily to the intrusion. "Jesus Christ bro - just hurry up," Dex muttered from somewhere behind them. Jim barely heard him—the guard’s cunt had him fully ensnared by now. Her cunt clenched around his whole manhood again, harder now. Jim moaned softly.
He kept his thrusts shallow, the swollen weight of his balls dragging against her inner walls. Her thighs trembled, knees digging into the dirt as she bucked her hips against him. Her vagina clenched rhythmically now; her earlier scorn melted into ragged little breaths. "Yeah, you feel something? Am I good enough now?" Jim challenged, voice rough. "Bet your little Chinese boyfriends never did this, this is an all-American Jim original." He punctuated the taunt with a sharp roll of his hips, relishing the way her body shuddered in response.
Her cunt spasmed around him, warm and tight, squeezing his balls in rhythmic pulses that bordered on painful—but in the best way. Every time she clenched, his breath hitched as his balls slid around in her soft vagina like marbles sliding past each other in a sack. "Fuck—" he groaned, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades. The pain-pleasure of her pussy’s grip made his cock twitch inside her, precome leaking freely. "You like my barbarian balls, huh?" She arched with a stifled moan, her earlier disdain lost to the primal tug of sensation.
Ricky exhaled sharply through his nose, scuffling his boots in the dirt. "Man, I swear to God—if we get caught because you couldn't keep it in your pants—" Jim cut him off with a rough thrust, grinning when the guard gasped. "Relax," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep. "We got time." Dex muttered something about 'fucking unbelievable' under his breath, shifting his weight between his feet like a caged animal. The guard’s breathy whine drowned him out anyway—her fingers clawed at the dirt, her thighs trembling as Jim worked her open, stretching her entrance lewdly, around both cock and balls.
She was tight—perfectly tight—her pussy massaging his testicles in slow, deliberate pulses that bordered on torturous. Every squeeze sent a jolt of pleasure-pain up his spine, her body milking him with a rhythm that felt practiced. "Fuck," Jim hissed, biting back a groan. "I love China." The guard didn’t respond—just rocked her hips back, her cunt swallowing him deeper with a wet squelch. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, her lips parted on a silent moan.
Dex’s boot scraped against gravel as he shifted nervously. "Yo, man—the patrol’s doubling back," he muttered, jerking his chin toward the flicker of a flashlight in the distance. Ricky cursed under his breath, crouching lower in the shadows. Jim barely registered them—his focus narrowed to the hot clench of her around him, the way her thighs trembled when he rolled his hips just right. "Relax," Jim slurred "Just a minute more."
He thrust deeper, grinding the thick mass of his balls against her inner walls until her breath hitched—then broke. A sharp moan tore from her throat, unrestrained, echoing off the prison walls. The flashlight beams swung toward the loud call of feminine lust. Jim groaned in approval and thrusted with renewed gusto. His comrades, however, noticed what the two lovers had missed. "Fuck," Ricky hissed, already backing toward the treeline. Dex had a more pointed reaction. “God fucking dammit Jim! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck!” he blurted as he spun around, looking for an uncontested exit path.
The guards shouted in Mandarin, boots pounding gravel as they closed in, the danger now clearly visible to the panicking Dex and Ricky. Jim and the lady guard paid them no heed, lost as they were in each other’s passions. The woman arched her back deliberately, pressing her ass flush against him as the approaching footsteps grew louder.
Flashlights swung wildly, beams slicing through the dark to pin them in blinding light. Ricky cursed, scrambling backward, and tripped over his own feet, landing hard on his ass. Dex attempted to make a break for it and sprint through the noose of guards, but a baton to the face ended that ambition. Jim suddenly became aware of hands roughly grabbing his arms and yanking him away from his sublime beauty. His balls lewdly popped out of her wet snatch, and he moaned as they were kissed farewell by her engorged pussy lips. He was vaguely aware of cuffs being slapped on his wrist, but still all he saw was the sex of his haughty hottie. Her uniform was torn, her thighs glistening with sweat and her juices, and her exposed vulva beckoned with arousal.
The moment Jim became aware of what was happening was when the guards slammed him face-first into the dirt. The woman, noticing the emptiness in her vagina, rolled onto her back, and propped herself up on her elbows like she was lounging. Her legs fell open shamelessly, the torn pants barely hiding the flushed pink of her cunt or the way her fingers already trailed down her stomach to touch herself. She licked her lips, watching the Americans get cuffed with half-lidded eyes.
Jim groaned against the gravel, but his head twisted just enough to catch her stroking two fingers energetically through her folds. Far from embarrassed, she looked victorious. And horny. She smirked, vigorously curling her fingers inside herself with a wet squelch. “You’re— you— you’re— you— seriously?! Fuck!” he spat, as the guards smacked him with a baton. She wordlessly thrusting deeper, her hips lifting off the ground as the guards dragged Ricky and Dex away.
Her breath hitched—then shattered. A strangled moan ripped through her clenched teeth, her back arching violently as her thighs clamped around her hand. The guards froze mid-drag, their flashlights swinging back to illuminate her trembling body, fingers still buried knuckle-deep in her dripping cunt. One of them, an officer by his insignia, barked something in Mandarin, disgust sharp in his tone. She just laughed breathlessly, curling her fingers again—clearly milking the last aftershocks as she caught her breath.
Slowly, almost lazily, she pulled her fingers free with a wet squelch, rolling onto her knees before standing. The hole in her pants shifted with the movement, but she nonchalantly pulled it back where it was, restoring the portal to her vagina. She then tugged her panties back into place, the cotton now soaked and translucent, her fingers lingering where Jim’s had been. Then she smoothed her uniform down like nothing had happened.
The officer snapped another question, his grip tightening on Jim’s collar. She shrugged, wiping her fingers on her thigh, leaving a streak of girlcum against her wrinkled uniform, before answering in crisp Mandarin—her tone dripping with amusement. She gestured disdainfully towards Jim.
The officer’s face darkened. He barked something sharp, gesturing to her torn pants and the sticky mess between her legs. She smirked, tilting her head as if considering his outrage—then flicked her damp fingers dismissively. His hand lashed out, cracking across her cheek with enough force to snap her head sideways.
She reeled, blood blooming on her lip. Jim tensed, but she just laughed. Her tongue slowly and sensually ran over her lips, collecting the crimson bead. She shrugged with a slow, deliberate roll of her shoulders. Her lips curled as she murmured something low—three syllables, Jim caught—and the way the male guard stiffened told him everything. *Worth it.* She turned to Jim and smiled smugly.
She sauntered closer, hips swaying as if she hadn’t just been fucked raw in the dirt. The slit in her pants gaped with every step, revealing the soaked white cotton clinging to her folds. Jim’s cock twitched pathetically against his thigh—half-hard, still glistening with her.
She noticed. Her smirk widened as she lowered her gaze to his crotch. “You?” She flicked her fingers toward his limp dick, lips twisting in exaggerated pity. “Ah,” she cooed, tapping a finger against her chin. “So *small*.” Her accent thickened the insult, stretching the word into something obscene. “Small. Like… baby carrot.” The guards snickered, tightening their grip on Jim’s arms as she leaned in, close enough for him to smell the sex still emanating from her. “American barbarian is bad fuck,” she whispered cheekily into his ear.
She crouched, bringing her to eye level with his half-chub, and tilted her head with mock curiosity. “American barbarian... tiny gun.” Her fingertip tapped the head of his cock, sending a shameful jolt through him.
“But…” Her hand slid lower, fingers brushing the loose, soft skin of his scrotum. “What you do with this… *interesting.*” She cupped his balls with a rough squeeze. “These? *Hěn hǎo.* Strong. Like proper man. Good job.”
Jim’s face burned. “You bitch,” he spat, but his traitorous dick spasmed, reawakened by her touch. She laughed, giving his sack a possessive tug. “See? Even *xiǎo jī jī* know truth.” Rising, she wiped her hand on her thigh, leaving a glossy smear. “Maybe next time, American bring *more* gun.” She smirked, adjusting her torn pants—deliberately letting the fabric gape around her soaked, translucent, panties. One of the younger guards audibly swallowed.
Jim gritted his teeth, humiliation burning his ears. “Fuck you,” he spat, bucking against the guards’ hold. She just laughed—a bright, mocking sound—and straightened, adjusting her collar with prim efficiency. “No,” she corrected, pinching his swollen cock-head between two fingers, their bright red nail polish gleaming under the harsh flashlights. “*I* fuck *you*.” Jim lunged against the guards and earned batons to the back. He stumbled under the blows. She watched him catch himself, lips pursed in faux sympathy. “Poor American,” she sighed. “So… *disappointing*.”
She pivoted elegantly on her heel, black hair swinging—then paused. “Ah.” Turning back, her fingers curled playfully. “I say goodbye to testicles now.” Before Jim could react, her palm cracked upward in a merciless slap to the sack. His gasp strangled into a wheeze as his balls bounced around violently, the sharp pain shooting up his spine. He groaned, knees buckling as the guards hauled him upright. She smirked, shaking out her hand like she’d just nailed a putt. Some of the guards winced, but not Ricky. “You deserve it, asshole,” he muttered.
“Goodbye, baby carrot,” she sang as she pivoted on her heel and sashayed away. Her hips swayed with exaggerated sensuality, the torn seam of her pants fluttering open to flash glimpses of white fabric stretched taut over her slick folds. Over her shoulder, she tossed a final jab: “next time, bring real cock”. His knees gave out completely—half from the lingering ache in his groin, half from the humiliation burning his ears. The guards snickered, their grip tightening on Jim’s arms as they dragged him toward the compound, his feet scraping gravel.
He twisted his neck, watching her shapely ass strut in the opposite direction—her hips rolling with deliberate exaggeration, the torn seam of her pants fluttering with each step. One hand idly tugged at her damp panties, adjusting the cotton where it clung to her swollen lips. She didn’t look back. Not once. Despite everything, Jim couldn’t help but feel himself thinking: worth it.