[Note: This is not a "sexy story". It is a mix of WW II "The Great Escape" and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's "The Gulag Achipelago"... set in outer space)
Chapter 11: "Escape is Impossible"
I was on the run for an entire day before I twisted my ankle again and fell to the ground in the middle of a road, in total agony.
This was not entirely a coincidence. Mr. Chekov had not succeeded in entirely healing me from my last trauma there. Malnutrition and exhaustion had made my body susceptible to a number of minor illnesses. This time I didn't even trip over a rock; my injury flared up simply by the angle at which my foot touched the ground as I walked.
The funny thing was, as I lay there on that road, I wasn't thinking about capture, or escape, but the War Captain. Had he been right when he said he didn't have the genius of Battle Admiral, now War Admiral Norman North?
Admittedly, he had gotten captured, but the odds had been heavily stacked against us from the beginning. I think he had successfully, and safely, gotten us over two hundred miles from camp, and he had kept us free for two weeks. His last act, the shouted warning, was the reason I was still free.
Of course, his decision to steal the car had proved to be the end for most of us. Would the War Admiral have walked into such a trap? Would he, out of options, have selected this choice? Perhaps there were some battles that could not be won. More than once I've seen the War Admiral withdraw from a battle not to his liking.
But he always regrouped and attacked again. I hoped wherever he was, that the War Captain would do the same.
"You are hurt," came a feminine voice.
I stiffened, and turned over, to see a young, attractive woman standing over me. "Yes," I said in Slurian, careful not to say more.
"I take care of you," she said. "Can you walk?"
With her help, I got up and balanced on one foot. But I couldn't stand on the other. She acted as a crutch, helping me into her home, which was just down the street. At this point, I had few options.
Once she had me inside her home, a small two room cabin, she said, "My name is Natasha." She looked at me for a response.
I didn't know what to say.
"You are not Slurian," she said.
"How can you tell?" I said.
"Because you are so handsome," Natasha said. "You are one of the escaped prisoners."
"Are you going to turn me in?" I said grimly. Could I hobble out of there? I didn't think so.
"Let us talk of that later," she said. "For now, let me see your ankle."
I took off my mukluks and boots and socks, to reveal a very reddish ankle.
"We must apply heat to that, it will help the healing," she said, starting to boil some water.
Natasha took care of me that night. It didn't take much to realize that she was lonely. Most of the young men had been conscripted for the war. I slept on her bed that night, and was a little surprised when she lay next to me and hugged me as I slept.
The next day I tested the ankle. I was making progress; I could stand on it, with some discomfort. But I still couldn't walk. It would take several days to get me back into shape.
I started to have confidence that Natasha would not turn me in. She fed me and took care of me. But her behavior at night started to worry me. On the second night she started kissing me. I gently pushed her away. Then again, later in the night, the same thing.
It wasn't that I found her unattractive; she had long, flowing, black hair, and the typically large, fleshy Slurian breasts which Slurian men found so alluring. Unfortunately, she also seemed to have the intelligence of a grapefruit plant. She had a child-like intellect. Also, to be fair, romance didn't rank very high among my priorities, given my current circumstances. I was malnourished, temporarily crippled, and under intense stress.
Meanwhile, my leg was recovering. The next day I felt well enough to limp around. I suspected that, given my current rate of recovery, I'd at least be able to walk soon, and something intangible made me uneasy enough to decide to leave the next day.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of telling Natasha that.
She started crying. "You're going to leave me? All alone?" She wept some more.
I attempted to console her, but I also kept a close eye on her, for fear she would report me to the Redcaps.
That night she served me a strange tasting soup. I thought it was odd tasting because of the unusual vegetables in it, but had second thoughts as I suddenly became very drowsy. In fact, I had trouble keeping my eyes open.
"Why don't you get some rest?" she said, dragging me to the bed.
I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. I knew immediately I had been drugged. I tried to move my arms and legs, but couldn't. Natasha had used leather belts to tie my arms and legs to the bed frame.
"Ah, you're awake and rested," she said.
"Are you going to turn me in?" I said fearfully.
"Idaho! I would never do that!" she said. She started to undo my pants.
"What are you doing?" I asked. Actually, though it seemed pretty self-explanatory.
She lowered my trousers, and then removed her own clothing. I might have admired her figure, if I weren't malnourished, tied to a bed, and feeling the psychological weight of several platoons of Redcaps searching for me.
"Do you like what you see?" asked Natasha, standing so I could admire her. She flaunted her large, jiggling pear shaped proletarian breasts at me.
"Ah, yes, well, they look very squeezable, but-"
Natasha started to lay down on me, rubbing against my body. Unfortunately, she started to get me excited despite myself. Those large Slurian breasts seemed to work wonders on me. Her softness above evoked a hardness below. In just a few moments she grew the response she had been looking for, and she took full advantage of it. She grabbed my organ put it in a place designed to maximize her pleasure.
Actually, it didn't do too badly for my pleasure, either.
Natasha groaned as she grinded on top of me. She seemed to be having a great deal of fun. I was just worried that her cries would attract the Redcaps.
She seemed to go on for a long time. How long had it been since she had been pleasured by a man? I could only wonder. For me, it was pleasurable, in a way, but I was really under too much stress to enjoy it properly. I was able to squirt inside of her, which pleased her to no end; she clapped her hands and yelled when she felt me explode inside of her. When she was done, and both of us were exhausted, she dismounted and gave me a quick kiss. "You were wonderful, Idaaho."
"I'm even better when I'm untied," I said.
"No," she said. "You can never leave me."
She couldn't keep me tied up forever.
Could she?
The next day she fed me while I was tied up. She put a potty under me to take care of my other needs. And the following night she came to me again, turning me on so I would turn her on, so to speak.
This continued for three more days. I tugged and tugged on the straps holding my arms and legs, but the restraints were strong, and wouldn't budge.
Meanwhile I was starting to worry that my muscles were atrophying. After a few more days of this, I would no longer be able to walk. Maybe that's what Natasha was hoping for, waiting for that moment when she could untie me because I would no longer be able to stand on my own two feet.
"Love me!" cried Natasha that night, as she pulled down my pants and tried to get me excited again. I gritted my teeth and tried to resist, but it was ultimately futile. Those large Slurian breasts never failed to conquer me. The sight of them flopping up and down as she rode on top of me never failed to ignite my passion.
How would I get out of here? I didn't have a clue.
And then something very unexpected happened the following day.
