CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1:
This story is one that I wrote several months ago, but finished just recently. This story just kind of appeared in my head one night and over the last three months or so, I've been working on it off and on.
Milking Major Samson
An Erotic Tale
by CharmingCharles2896
They'd been working him over for the last six weeks, using all sorts of horrible forms of torture. He'd had his finger nails torn out. The knuckles in his fingers had been broken. They'd burned his skin, cut him, hit him, all of it for nothing. They'd tried sleep deprivation, starvation, drugs, all of it for naught. He'd resisted their torture and everyone knew at this point that he'd never talk. If he cracked, it meant the end of the resistance. If he cracked it would mean the death of millions of people, and the return of tyranny to his desolate world, one scarred by a twenty year long civil war that had left parts of the world in ruins. For those in the resistance, the aptly named Freedom and Justice Movement, they were the last bastion of freedom and democracy. All the others had been found, crushed, and enslaved under the rule of Lady Vindicta the Cruel.
Major Peter Samson wasn't going to doom the resistance to the evil of Lady Vindicta the Cruel. If that meant he had to suffer for the rest of his life, then so be it. Right now, he was strapped to a table in a dark room. His body was in a pretty serious amount of pain from the torture; but so far, they'd yet to do anything to him today. They'd woken him up early and tossed him into a truck, driving him God knows where. When they'd arrived, they'd gassed him with some kind of sleep gas. He'd woken up to a trio of women cutting his clothes off, hurting him if he so much as glanced at them. After that, they'd dragged him into this room and thrown him onto this cushy table. After strapping him to the cushy table, they'd closed the door behind them, the lights shutting off, leaving him alone in total darkness and an unsettling silence. That was what felt like hours ago; in the intervening time, he'd taken a moment to get a long nap in; knowing he'd need his strength for whatever they had planned for him next.
The sound of a large metal door being unlocked alerted him to the fact that it was showtime. His body was trembling as he heard the door swoosh open, bathing the dark room in light. Samson squinted his eyes, groaning from the pain he felt. The sound of heels click-clacking on the tile floor was followed shortly by the scent of orange blossom and jasmine, a woman's perfume. It had been over a decade since he'd smelt something as nice as perfume, the women of the FJM doing all they could to denounce the femininity that Lady Vindicta the Cruel used so expertly to subjugate the world. The women of the resistance, the few that there were, generally worked to ensure that the resistance didn't run out of people by getting out birthed by the Empire's reproduction farms.
Major Samson was one of the lucky ones, he was married. His wife Laura wasn't an overly feminine or attractive women, her having been one of the few women that the resistance had been able to deprogram after capturing her. The two of them having sworn themselves to a life of celibacy, rebuking the sin and lust that Vindicta had made her calling card. Children of the resistance were grown in labs and raised by the collective group. The resistance and its religious leaders insisted on the abandonment of all that could lead people down the path of sin that Lady Vindicta the Cruel used so expertly. This meant that there was marriage, but no forms of intimacy or sexual activity. There were families, but they were extremely pious ones.
The rumors about the treatment of men in the Empire were legendary. There were rumors of men being reduced to farm animals and treated like cows. There was talk that men were generally removed from the gene pool, only the best genes kept in jars in frozen facilities, removing the need for men in general. The talk of the camps was what scared most people. There were rumors of a massive extermination camp in central China, while rumors of a torture camp in the northern California region made all men shiver in fear. All of this hysteria was the product of a long war that had destroyed most of the planet.
Right now, the resistance was a largely subterranean movement, surviving due to the extensive use of underground bunkers. The surface generally belonged to the Empire. That being said, the surface was horrifically scared by the repeated use of fire bombs, napalm, and agent orange to clear rain forests in a search for resistance fighters. Entire continents were devoid of life, Africa having been essentially turned into glass by nuclear weapons. These days the Empire consisted of the North American west coast, Central and Southern Asia, as well as Eastern Europe. The rest was lost to the war.
"Enjoy your nap, Major Samson?" came the velvety smooth voice of a woman, pulling Samson out of his thoughts. This woman was different from the woman who'd been torturing him for the last week, this woman was significantly taller, with a silhouette that suggested a tall, curvaceous woman. As the lights in the room came on, Samson saw the skin tight uniform, made of an almost liquid-like material that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. This was in stark contrast to the almost unisex, cold war, red army-esc design of the uniforms for the women that tortured him.
The woman looked down at her uniform, which was mysteriously lacking any of the insignias and badges that carried Vindicta's visage or symbols. This woman, whose uniform carried the name Wagner, simply smiled at Samson. "I encourage you to enjoy my uniform and everything it shows off. I had all of Vindicta's symbols removed, so you'd be less reminded of your situation," she said softly as she stepped up to Samson's side and examined his broken fingers, still not set, still mangled and deformed. His body couldn't move, as if he was glued to the table.
"Hard to forget after your people pulled my fingernails out and broke all of my fingers, no offense," he added after finishing his thought. Wagner simply chuckled, taking no offense to his snide remark.
"I know, my compatriots can be a little too rough with your people from time to time, especially when you're refusing to break. Well... your will that is; they already broke all of your fingers." Samson had to fight the chuckle that Wagner's last remark elicited from him. It had been so long since he'd seen a woman like this Wagner that stood next to him. Resistance women almost dressed like the character Private Vasquez from the ancient film Aliens, made many years ago, before the war, before any of this happened.
Lady Vindicta used some form of brainwashing to take control of most of the world's women, using them to subtly enslave men. Of course, the plot was uncovered by a brave patriot, an American CIA Agent named Sarah Walker. Sadly, not long after Agent Walker revealed the plot to the press, exposing Lady Vindicta's ill intent, Agent Walker and her husband Charles Carmichael disappeared. Rumors had swirled for the years, but many boiled it down to two theories.
The first theory was that the plane was a trap and Lady Vindicta had kidnapped the two of them, likely castrating Carmichael and turning him into the feminized, brainless drones that her labor camps used for slave labor. According to the first theory, Agent Walker was likely stripped naked and forcibly gang raped by any number of the strap-on wielding women that Vindicta used in her military to fight against the resistance. Agent Walker's eventual death was likely a mercy for the poor women after the hundreds of hours of rape had left her body a broken, brutalized form.
The second theory was that Agent Walker had faked her death with her husband in order to disappear and start a family with him somewhere deep in the amazon rainforest. This second theory flew in the face of resistance doctrine and religion, but Major Samson chose to believe the second theory anyway. If his options were to believe that Agent Walker was raped and tortured to death, or she simply broke her vows and is out there living happily with her husband and potential children, it was an easy decision for Major Samson and many others in the resistance.
Snapping back to the moment, Samson refocused on Wagner, seeing her smiling at him. "Don't know where your mind just went, but try to stay away from there. Troubled and depressed isn't a good look on a cutey like you," she said with a wink. As she turned back towards the door, he could see how the snug fit of her uniform revealed the shape of her vulva and ass beneath the thin, skin-tight garment. This woman was so beautiful and he was becoming aware of her effect on him. "Enjoying the view I see," she began, having turned back towards him, only to see his eyes positively undressing her. Samson looked away, seemingly catching himself looking at her form. The women that worked at these camps were notoriously violent.
"Didn't I just say that you're encouraged to look at my body in this uniform?" she said, with faux annoyance in her voice. "I'm not going to hurt you if you look at me, I want you to look, I want you to enjoy this time with me," she said softly, closing the distance with him and leaning over him. She had truly massive tits, the kind of tits that made all men just jerk off furiously until they came everywhere. Wait, where had that thought come from? Major Samson was a pious man, loyal to the cause, sworn to resist the temptations of women.
"I love watching boys like you struggle to resist looking at my body, you all do eventually. No matter how much you tell yourself that you've sworn off women, that you've sworn off the pleasures of the flesh," she said as she leaned in closer, her chest against his bare arm, her mouth by his ear. "No matter how much you lie to yourself, you and every other boy like you secretly crave spraying your jizz everywhere." Her words were wrong, evil, but his body was reacting regardless. He felt his penis throb, coming to attention for the first time in years.
As he focused on his throbbing cock, now pulsating and dripping at the tip, he noticed that his table was moving. He looked around and noticed that he was in the hall now, being moved from the room he was in. In the hallway he could hear the sounds of countless men in the throes of sinful pleasure. This place that they'd taken him to wasn't a torture center, it was where they took men to break their vows!
"Figured it out yet?" she said as she wheeled him by one gorgeous woman after another; all of them clad in identical skin tight catsuits, their breasts swaying in the suits, their asses jiggling.
"You've taken me to Rosemont?" he asked, his heartbeat quickening. He'd heard rumors about this place, but he hadn't believed that it truly existed.
