Author's Note:
This story contains content and themes that may be disturbing to some people, such as nonconsensual sex, violence, and mental illness. Reader discretion is advised.
*****
In all honesty, the feeling of being captured was not nearly as bad as the feeling when I realized I had lost track of how long I'd been in their clutches. It marked the point where I was not only a prisoner physically, but mentally as well. It took away any mental connection I had with my life before I became a prisoner of war.
The New Philistine Kingdom was a terrorist organization in the Middle East that sprung up a few years ago. They took over a moderate amount of land and people, as well as openly declaring war on America and the EU. It was a monster born to live fast and die young. It was so ruthless and unstructured that it was bound to either fall apart by itself, be taken down by the people it tyrannized, or get toppled by an outside force. By the time I was made a POW, it was approaching what I knew would be its death.
That's what I kept telling myself. This was a waiting game; The New Philistine Kingdom was living on borrowed time, so I would be rescued eventually, sooner rather than later. The problem is that the animals that captured me are masters of torture. The first thing they did was tie me to a chair and beat me for what had to be at least 24 hours. They never did anything like breaking bones or knocking out teeth, but for that period my life was nothing but pain.
They told me that the torture would end if I betrayed my country, not by giving away any information, but by denouncing America and everything she stood for. As a proud member of the US Army I would never forsake my country, but it was more pride than patriotism that fueled my resistance. As long as I held my ground and didn't give up, I would beat them. I could win.
The bastards keeping me prisoner were good at making my resolve waver, though. I was kept in a facility that was mainly underground. The guards had uniforms, but me and the few other prisoners I ever saw were kept naked with nothing except a tag on our wrist that we couldn't take off. This was more psychological than sexual in nature, making us more vulnerable and less human. We weren't starved, but we were fed infrequently and irregularly. Coupling this with the lack of natural light meant that I lost track of time so soon it was frightening. In some ways it felt like I had only been there for a week, sometimes it felt like months. I legitimately did not know.
They also loved torturing me, and in creative ways. They attached an ear piece to my head that would sound off some random loud noise at random times, making it impossible for me to sleep. It had to have been days that I had that thing in my ear. I was completely delirious and could barely think by the time they finally took it off.
Another thing they did is make me take a pill. The trip it caused me was enough to make me fully and truly believe that I had died and gone to Hell. I can't even remember any specifics, the only thing that came to mind was fear and pain. Perhaps my brain did all it could to erase the memory once I came back down again. After the hallucinations stopped, I just laid still for hours, completely untrusting of the reality around me. Once I was finally able to convince myself that I wasn't being tricked, I looked at myself in my cell's mirror.
I was already gaunt before they made me take that pill, but I looked like I lost even more weight because of it. There were dark circles around my eyes. I had claw marks all over my neck and I had no reason to believe they were from anyone besides me. I saw uneven patches in my hair, explained by clumps of hair I found scattered around the room. I looked beaten down, broken. It was hard for me to comprehend, let alone accept, that the emaciated little waif I saw in the mirror was actually me.
By my best estimate, I had been held captive for one month when I heard a conversation between two guards. The guards spoke Arabic, a language I didn't know. Nonetheless I had been around people who spoke it long enough to pick up a little. I heard my name, something about a transfer, and them laughing about me being with what loosely translated to "the crazies."
Not long after I was cuffed and led out of my cell to a part of the facility I hadn't been to before. They stopped me at a cell that looked different from the others. Once I was led inside I saw another door. Behind that door was another cell which would be my place of residence from that point forward. It looked like my old cell, with a bed, a toilet, and a sink. There were two extra features, though: a shower head, which meant I didn't even have to leave to bathe, even with no soap, and a tall cabinet in the corner that I later found out was locked.
One of the guards got my attention before he left. He simply said "Your chance for respite is over," before shutting the door behind him. The only thing that could have meant is that I could no longer cave to make the torture stop. It made no difference to me; I wouldn't have let them win anyway. I could endure whatever the "crazies" could throw at me.
After I took a shower I got back onto the shitty little cot and laid down. About an hour later, I heard the door open. A man walked in. Like me, he was nude save the cuff, so he was a prisoner and not a guard. Still, there's no reason why he would be in my cell if he wasn't the person sent to torture me, one of the crazies. He likely agreed to do this to get some perks to make his incarceration more bearable.
I sized up this new threat. He was bigger and stronger than me. He was probably 6 feet tall to my 5'9". He was also buff and muscular, not a bodybuilder, but no stranger to the gym. Even back before I got captured I would have difficulty fighting him, but in my malnourished, fragile state I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.
I sat quietly, not making sudden moves. He looked at me, acknowledging my presence, but he didn't say anything. He went over to the cabinet and used the key he had on his cuff to open it and briefly look inside. From what I could tell, it contained medical supplies. Apparently everything was in order, though, because he just locked it right back up. He exited and came back with my food. He left, never once saying a word.
Once I finished eating I lay on the bed again. Time had no meaning anymore, but after some of it, I heard the door open again. This time it was flung open and slammed into the wall.
The man from earlier walked up, his body language different. Now he carried himself with pride and puffed out his chest. He had this cocky smile I hated instantly. It was like he was mocking me, since even though we were both prisoners, he was in an exponentially better state than I.
To my surprise, he started talking.
"Oh, I am so excited for the fresh meat!" His voice was deep and rough.
I just sat there.
He walked up and bent over with his hands on his thighs, looking at me like how an adult would look at a child.
"Shit, you're a scrawny little bitch, aren't you?"
I glared at him, and he slapped me in the face so fast I didn't have time to react. It didn't hurt as much as get my attention.
"Listen up, you little shit. When I talk, you reply. End every sentence with Sir. If you don't, I'll hurt you. Got it?"
I looked at his muscles. He could do some damage.
"Yes, Sir." He grinned even wider.
"Okay, bitch, here's how things are going to be from now on. I own you. I own your body completely and intend to use it any way I damn well please. You'll do what I say, when I say it. You can try to fight back, but I think we both know that it would just make things harder for you."
His hand shot out faster than I could move and grabbed my hair. One second later he swung his other arm, now slapping me full force. The left side of my face exploded in pain and the force made me jolt to the side, yanking on my scalp.
Before I could recover he picked up my entire body like it was nothing and threw me halfway across the room. All the wind was knocked out of me. Without taking a moment's pause, he strode over and proceeded to punch and kick me all over my body. I started out trying to fight back, but after a few seconds I just curled myself into a ball to protect myself.
Eventually, he stopped, long enough for me to risk a look. He was just standing there with his arms folded, the grin now looking psychotic and dangerous.
"Sit up, bitch."
I mumbled "Yes, Sir," and adjusted myself into a sitting position.
At that point I noticed that he had an erection he didn't have a minute ago. Fully grown his cock was about 8 inches. It didn't just look hard, though, it looked angry, red and dripping pre-ejaculate.
No way,
I thought.
He's getting off on this?
"Suck my cock."
I looked up, dumbfounded. After a moment of silence he punched me in the face.
"Let's try this again. Suck. My.
Cock!
"
I couldn't hide the whimper that came out. I thought of my girlfriend back home.
"N-No, Sir, p-please—"
"Oh-ho, that idea repulses you, doesn't it? You're straight as an arrow, ain't ya? Well, I got some news for you, buddy. I don't give a
FUCK
—"
As he roared that word he round-kicked me in the ribs.
"—what you think you want! You're furniture. You don't get a choice."
In spite of myself I felt tears form, due to pain as well as despair.
He sat down next to me, and placed my body into his lap. He gently petted my hair and cooed into my ear.
"It's okay, pet. I know this is hard to swallow. The fact of the matter is, though, that you're my slave. You will suck my dick on command and love it. Still, it's your first day, and I'm feeling nice, so I'll give you a choice."
He stroked my cheek gently.
"You could either be a good little servant and blow me, or I could just keep hitting you. As you've noticed, you being in pain is a major turn on for me. I probably won't have to hurt you too much more."
