Pow

A high-security detail was waiting for the Ambassador's plane when it arrived at Dulles. The four girls who had just staged a daring escape from captivity in Akbar were whisked into limousines and taken for debriefing. The State Department played coy with the press on the reason for the Ambassador cutting short his trip in the Middle East, saying an announcement would be forthcoming. Each girl was interviewed separately so that their stories could be compared and corroborated later. Sasha and Heather were taken to interrogation rooms right away, while Chin Li and Melanie waited--one for an interpreter that spoke her native tongue, the other for officials from the US Army.

A short while later, Melanie found herself in a debriefing room with one person from the CIA, one from the State Department, and additional interviewers from the Pentagon. The State Department rep, a woman named Diane, led off, and set the tone for the questioning. She asked generally about her capture and what happened in Akbar, and was clearly outraged by Melanie's treatment there. A General Baumgartner wanted to know what she could tell them about how she was taken out of Iraq, but while she could describe the tunnel she had no idea where it was—or even what country she'd ended up in on the other side of the mountains. She could feel her questioners pity her, and it made her uncomfortable. She'd been focused on survival up to now, hadn't had the luxury of reflecting on her ordeal. But she foresaw in their reactions the way that others would respond to her once they knew her story. She just wanted to go back to being a soldier; it was her first inkling that perhaps that would never happen. From now on, she would be always be

that

girl. The soldier that had been captured and used as a sex slave. She had a fleeting moment of panic; she'd spent so much time thinking about her boyfriend while enduring the unwanted penetrations of the Maulana... what if he rejected her after all that had been done to her?

She searched their faces, and found them full of well-meaning but unwanted pity. Except one. Standing ramrod-straight at the back of the room rather than sitting with the others, one of her interrogators' face did not belie any pity at all. His expression was stern and intense—not necessarily hateful, but certainly with no sign of softness, either. She glanced his way again; his eyes felt like they were boring right through her. That made her even more uncomfortable, so she refocused on the others. In her peripheral vision, however, she paid closer attention to him.

He had been introduced as Major Carl Tiegen, US Army. His face was ruddy and weathered, a face that had endured extreme conditions without blinking. He was neither young nor old—he could have been anywhere from 35 to 50, she thought, it's hard to tell with such hardened skin. His look gave you the impression that this man had never smiled in his life. And his eyes didn't seem to blink—she probably just couldn't see because he was further away, and she wasn't about to stare at him to prove otherwise. But she felt like his eyes bored into her. She suddenly felt more naked than she'd been in Akbar. Although he never took his eyes off of her, he only participated in the questioning once.

"What were you and Private Simpson doing while on patrol that day?"

"We were walking our assigned route, just like we had done twice a day for four months..." She had almost ended with 'Sir,' reflexively, in response to his tone. She wasn't sure whether she should or shouldn't be doing so—these were all superior officers, after all.

"Just walking on patrol... quiet as a mouse... watching for signs of present danger..." the Major responded sarcastically.

"No Sir," she replied, "we were talking while we were walking."

"What were you talking about soldier?" he pressed. "Something that distracted you maybe? Missed noticing the man coming towards you might be a threat?"

Melanie's mouth opened and closed. The General saved her; he turned to the Major and said "stand down, Carl. The girl's been through enough." Then he turned back and continued the questioning in a more civilian tone. The Major's expression did not change, but he spoke no more in the interview. Melanie couldn't help but feel like he could see right through her, though, for indeed she couldn't help but feel if, indeed, she and Michael had missed signs they shouldn't have because of their teasing banter. She glanced his way briefly; she wondered if he might even suspect that there had been such sexual tension between them.

Maybe he's just old-school and doesn't think women should be in combat.

But if their teasing had contributed to their capture, then she hadn't done her duty as a soldier—she should have stayed focused on the mission, and she hadn't. The General meant well, but only the Major had talked to her like a soldier—not just a "girl" or worse, a victim.

Diane now spoke. "I know this is going to be hard for you... but tell us anything you can remember about what happened in Akbar." So Melanie began to recount her initiation, her training under Abdullah, and the things the Maulana liked to do with his slaves. She could tell Diane was having difficulty listening to it all, and Melanie couldn't entirely understand why. In her mind it was just another thing that had happened, and now it was over. Maybe by having lived through it, she had learned to emotionally detach herself from it all, whereas Diane was perhaps picturing herself in Melanie's place. She glanced at Major Tiegen, and saw his expression had changed. His face wasn't quite so hard, but if anything his eyes were sharper—boring through her even deeper than before. She gulped involuntarily. She sensed that his perspective on her experience was radically different from the others. She was a victim, sure, but she wasn't JUST a victim; the Major alone seemed to understand that. She found herself wondering more and more what he might be thinking, but his stern unmoving face wouldn't reveal any clues.

Finally the interrogation was over. The General told Melanie that she would have a choice between a full honorable discharge or a reassignment stateside. He told her she would get a month's leave to decide—but not right away. "Tomorrow, there will be a press release with the official story of what happened. The Defense Secretary will decide what to say and what to leave out, and you will be briefed accordingly. The press will want to ask you questions; we'll give you guidance on how to answer them. Do you feel comfortable talking about this on TV?"

She was taken aback. "I guess so..."

"Every show in America has put in requests for you. The Department will select a couple for you to appear on—Winnie Ofrah, Viewpoint, that kind of thing. We'd like to get them all out of the way in a week, and then let this thing die down and go away. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." He stood and saluted her; awkwardly she quickly rose and returned the salute. Then the General and his attaché turned for the door.

Just as they passed the Major, Tiegen turned and asked one last question. "With all these things that happened in Akbar... did you ever climax, Private?"

Diane turned on him angrily. "Major Tiegen! That question is totally out of line." But his eyes were firmly fixed on her face. He alone saw that her face could not hide the truth. He didn't need her to speak to know the answer.

"I'm sorry..." he said insincerely, "question withdrawn." His eyes lingered on her knowingly, then he turned and left as well.

"I'm going to call the Pentagon and report that man right away!" Diane huffed.

"No Sir," Melanie retorted, still standing where she'd saluted the General. "It's a fair question. The Army needs to know EVERYTHING about treatment of POWs while in captivity. He's just doing his job." Stunned, Diane stood and left without another word. She wondered about Major Tiegen. Somehow, she felt like he understood what had happened to her better than any of his superiors. And what was the meaning of that glance he had thrown her as he left???

--------------

That night she was happily back in her lover's arms. Matt was so happy to see her—the press release hadn't been made yet, so all he knew was she was back. She told him generally what had happened. He was angry, or course, when she told him about being in Akbar—no man wants to see his woman serving another man like that. She could tell he wanted to know more, and yet he didn't. But he was sensitive enough to her pain that he didn't press the issue. Eventually, she would have to tell him more. She might not ever be able to tell him everything, though, depending on what the Army said.

He was worried about pressing for intimacy, if she'd been... well... in Akbar... But she WANTED it; she had been taken against her will so many times, SHE wanted to be the one in charge, consenting. To prove her point, she assertively unzipped him, put her head in his lap and sucked his dick. His cock felt warm, familiar--and very responsive. Maybe it was just because it had been so long, but Melanie suspected that she'd learned some things in Akbar, because his dick never seemed to be THAT responsive before. Oh well... maybe it was a silver lining in the whole ordeal. She just hoped it wouldn't lead to too many difficult questions...

She had to stop sucking him because she could tell he'd pop off in her mouth in a minute otherwise. She stripped off her clothes and spread her legs. Matt knelt on the floor in front of her and licked her smooth labia. She saw him do a double-take when he first saw her shaved snatch, but could tell that it excited him. She felt his tongue lick her lovingly, the way she'd remembered him doing. Something none of the men had done in Akbar, that's for sure (although sometimes the women were commanded to do so to each other for their viewing pleasure). There was only one problem--she wasn't getting off. It felt good, sure, but it just didn't feel... intense enough. She didn't think he was holding back... it just... somehow wasn't doing the trick for her.

Hiding her disappointment, she suggested they move to the bed. She giggled as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She bounced as he flopped her on their bed. Then he knelt over her, pressing his penis into her snatch. She wrapped her legs around him as he made love to her. Their lips met, and she experienced true joy at the simultaneous sensation of kiss and fuck. But it didn't get her off. Matt kept fucking her; she could feel he would cum soon. He knew it, too, and trying to be sensitive he rubbed her clitoris with one hand while thrusting with his penis. That too felt good--good enough that it might bring her off if he kept at it long enough. But long enough felt like maybe twenty minutes worth--he'd never lasted that long in the warmth of her pussy, and he certainly wasn't going to now. She felt him taking long pauses, trying to delay himself; she kissed him and told him to go ahead. Cleared for takeoff, he thrust into her solidly, and in less than a minute was ejaculating inside her belly.

He got off of her and lay next to her. They kissed and cuddled. They held each other, and Matt drifted off to sleep. Not Melanie. For a long time afterwards, she lay in his arms, wide awake as he snored gently. She felt good to be here again, safe. What she didn't feel was satisfied. All that time in Akbar she'd dreamed of being back here, in this bed with Matt. And now... it's not that she wished she was back in Akbar, God no, but the reality had come up short of what she had dreamed of. She told herself that it was her fault—that she was tired and under a lot of stress. She told herself it would be different once life returned to normal. She felt the beginnings of fear—fear that normal as she once knew it was gone forever. She dared not give voice to the thought that maybe her disappointment was going to be a much more difficult itch to scratch.

The next morning Melanie appeared at a Defense Department news conference. The plan of attack was that the press would be told that she had been trafficked to Akbar where she was part of a Harem. The focus would be on Melanie's brains and bravery in escaping. Any attempts to solicit more details of what being in a harem meant would be dismissed as inappropriate and serving only a prurient interest. The mainstream media went along; this story would be plenty sensation as it was. The news conference was cut short before the smaller media got a chance to speak.

From the news conference Melanie was whisked to Dulles to catch a plane to Chicago; she would appear on Winnie Ofrah that afternoon. Diane went with her to all her appearances. The stated reason for her to be there was to address the foreign policy implications for our relations with Akbar. Her main job, though, was really to deflect any questions that pried too deeply into what Melanie had been forced to do there. Although she had not been given instructions to do so, Melanie chose to use her pulpit to send a message on the importance of educating women in the Arab world. Her situation would never have happened without a general cultural acceptance that men and women were different and not equal; she touted increased education of women as the solution. Diane told her on the plane to New York after the show (to appear on the morning news shows the next day) that her approach had been brilliant—increased education was a cause everyone could get safely behind. Most Americans followed her lead in framing the debate. Sure, a few extreme right-wing hawks wanted to invade Akbar to seek retribution, but that was just because war is the only thing some people ever want to do. The Akbari Ambassador was tripping over himself apologizing for his country and ensuring that one person's actions were not representative of the people of Akbar. He promised a manhunt was underway to find the perpetrator—which Melanie doubted very highly. Women's groups emphasized their outrage but agreed with her conclusions. Her face was everywhere. That made her uncomfortable—until she thought of the Maulana, who would surely be watching the story unfold on Jel Azeera. She smiled when she thought how angry he must be. Maybe he would burst an artery in his apoplexy.

Couldn't happen to a nicer guy,

she thought sarcastically.

Melanie was on TV for about a week, then as planned went on leave to let the furor die down. Eventually other news pushed the story from the front pages and life went on. Unfortunately for Melanie back in Virginia, so did the disappointment. They kept trying, but Matt couldn't satisfy Melanie anymore. On the third day he was bound and determined to eat her out until she came, but it just wasn't happening. She finally just faked it so his feelings wouldn't be hurt. It wasn't that having sex felt bad, she liked it and all. But somehow, it just seemed... maybe watered-down was the word. It just didn't stimulate her intensely enough to get her off. And she knew it had to be her; she'd never had this problem before with Matt, and he seemed to be exactly the same. The only thing different seemed to be her.

As Melanie's leave drew to a close, the Army asked her what she wanted to do. She thought about taking a discharge, but even if she got a partial disability from the VA for PTSD it wouldn't be enough to live on. She thought about what else she might do, but the Army seemed a better choice than anything else she felt qualified to do. So when her month was up, she went back on active duty. She was placed in a desk job as an aid for General Hermann Andrea, chief of procurement for the US Army. It wasn't bad work; she had a cubicle in the Pentagon, got to travel sometimes to speak with contractors, and once in a while got schmoozed with perks from salesmen. It wasn't the career she'd envisioned, but it was safe and stable.

It was three months to the day after she arrived back in Washington that she first ran into Major Carl Tiegen again. She rushed into an elevator just as it was closing; he was the only other occupant. "Private," he grunted as a greeting.

"Major Tiegen," she returned with a lump in her throat. She didn't salute because she was "inside the line;" the Pentagon was a salute-free zone. If it wasn't, staff would spend so much time saluting that no real work would get done.

"How have you found your transition back stateside, private? Have you found that things aren't quite how you imagined they would be?" His unblinking gaze tore through her again, just like at the debriefing. His words made her shiver. It was as if he knew that her relationship was in trouble, that what used to satisfy her just didn't anymore.

"I'm just happy to be home again, sir," she answered evasively. She unconsciously tucked her briefcase close to her chest, a response to feeling naked to his gaze again.

"You may be home, but some things have a way of staying with you," he replied knowingly. Thankfully the elevator bell dinged—third floor. Melanie raced off without another word, but noting that the other button depressed was for the fifth floor. She was shaken—not by seeing him per se, or even by his words. What freaked her out was a nagging sense that he understood something that no one else did, not even Melanie herself. His last sentence stuck with her... what things was her referring to? Deployment in a war zone? Being a POW? Or a hostage? Or did he mean... she shook her head. She refused to think about the Maulana or the things she had been required to do in his house.

Her military career had stabilized, but things continued to get worse back home. Matt was duly concerned that she didn't get off anymore. In part he was worried about her and PTSD, but in part he was just frustrated. It made him feel inadequate, and he asked more questions about what had happened in Akbar. She didn't want to answer them, so she lied and told him the Defense Department wouldn't let her talk about it. That just got him angry; how could the government tell her what to do in her private life? To appease him, Melanie went to the VA for help. They wanted to put her on an antidepressant, but she didn't feel depressed. Her problems were in her relationship, so she went to therapy for a while. She didn't have any other symptoms of PTSD, but the psychologist seemed to think she should, and talked like it was only a matter of time, especially once Melanie started having the dreams. Her therapist interpreted them as nightmare flashbacks, but that's not how Melanie experienced them at all. She dreamt about being tied up and fucked, and they always ended with her having monster orgasms. Orgasms like she had experienced in Akbar, even if she had tried to hide them at the time. Her therapist gave her some stuff to read on identifying with an aggressor, but that didn't seem to fit either because she HATED those men. Just because she despised them didn't mean that they hadn't been able to make her cum. She didn't feel like the therapist was really hearing what she was saying, and eventually stopped going.

As if things were bad enough, she ran into Major Tiegen again. She was at her desk, and of all things he delivered a package from upstairs. It was for her CO, but since he was gone he left it with her. She was already shaken when he told her about the package. But then he added "and how is the reassimilation coming, private? Things OK back home?"

"That's none of your business, Major," she burst.

"THAT good, huh?" As he turned and left, his eyes had spoken volumes. His lips had even had a slight curl, perhaps the rudimentary beginning of...gasp... a smile. She berated herself--she'd given herself away again. It wasn't what she said of course, it was the vehemence with which she said it that had given everything away. And that look in the Major's eyes--it haunted her. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

What makes him so smug. He probably doesn't know anything, he just thinks he does. Probably just thinks he's better than me.

And while that was possible, she couldn't help but wonder at the seeming perceptiveness of his questions. Maybe she was just reading too much into things, but what if he DID see something she didn't understand? More than anything, it bothered her that possibly this stranger knew something about her that she didn't know about herself. She caught herself thinking about him more and more, intrigued by the mysterious man with the stone face. And at night she kept having dreams. She dreamt she was chained down, unable to move, while a man in a mask alternately whipped and fucked her. She would wake up, remembering the dream and feeling like she had been on the brink of an amazing orgasm.