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From: "S Couture" <couture_writes@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Spoils of War by Couture (FFM, Femdom, Chastity, MC)
Date: Fri, 12 Dec 2003 21:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "SOW.txt" begin>
The Spoils of War by Couture
(MFf,bondage,chastity,slavery)
Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by
sexually explicit stories and situations.
(c) 2003 Couture
*********** Sara was a young twenty-two year from Akron Ohio. She
had a slender athletic body, conditioned and honed razor sharp by
the US Army. She enlisted so she could pay for college. She
never expected to get called into combat. She certainly didn't
expect this.
She tugged futilely at her bonds. Her body ached all over, but
her joints hurt most of all. She couldn't even remember how she
got here. The last thing she remembered was patrolling the
streets of Baghdad with her unit. There had been a blast- a bomb
of some sort. Rule number one was: Stay with your patrol.
Somehow Sarah got separated. There had been an Arab woman
motioning her to the safety of her house. As soon as she
entered, something was held over her mouth. She smelled an acrid
chemical scent that burned her lungs. There was panic and
hyperventilation - and then - and then - nothing.
She woke up to blackness, and realized there was something
covering her eyes. Then the sickness came. She had dry heaves
for the first ten minutes. Afterwards, she tried to reach up to
pull the hood away or at the very least wipe the puke from her
mouth, but her hands where tied above her head. One of her
ankles was secured to the floor, while the other was secured
about mid-thigh. Worse, they were tied so that they were spread
apart.
Sara was scared as hell. She had never been more scared in her
life. She was helpless and totally vulnerable for whatever the
people who held her had planned. Her gun, even her very clothes
had been taken away. Her dog tags were gone as well. She
wasn't even a number, she was just a body.
Her thick tongue reached out to sooth her dry cracked lips. How
long had she been here? Her stomach growled and made her wonder
when she had last eaten.
She heard a door behind her slam, and then footsteps came closer
and closer. She almost wet herself. Who were they? What did
they want? Name, rank, serial number, name, rank, and serial
number she repeated in her mind. I'm a good soldier. I'm a good
soldier. But she wasn't good. She was scared as hell.
The young soldier gasped when the hood was jerked off her head.
She blinked her eyes as they became accustomed to the bright
light of the room. It was a relief to see a woman and not a
group of Iraqi soldiers. "Sarah Conway, Private US Army,
854660," she said by rote.
The woman just smiled. Sarah recognized her as the woman she
had tried to help in the street.
"Oostatha Faiza," the Arab woman said, pointing to herself.
Sarah was unable to point due to her hands being bound and drawn
behind her back. "Sarah - Sarah Conway," she said. It felt
strange to talk without the use of her hands.
"No," Faiza spat. "Jew terrorist."
Sarah shook her head, causing her matted hair to fall into her
eyes. "No - private- US Army . . ." She felt the spittle
running down her face, but there wasn't enough give in he bonds
to even wipe it off.
The Arab woman smiled cruelly. "Thirsty terrorist?" she asked,
holding a small cup to Sarah's parched lips.
Yes, thank God. Sarah leaned forward for a sip despite the pain
to her shoulder joints. To her dismay, the cup held some sort of
thick beige liquid. What was this? Some cruel sick joke? Some
crude form of torture?
"Make Jour face new and fresh. Hides flaws and blemishes," Faiza
laughed.
"I have rights," Sara cried. "The Geneva conventions say . . .
the Geneva. . ."
Faiza interrupted the hapless girl by trying to force a tennis
shoe into her mouth. "Just chew it."
Sara turned her head to avoid the onslaught. "I'm a prisoner of
war," she laughed. "I have rights. . ."
"Jew terrorist pig," Faiza said, spitting in Sarah's face again.
"Jew have no rights." And then the hood was replaced.
Sarah quickly lost track of time. There was random lights and
loud Arabic music. It was impossible to sleep for more than a few
minutes. She was tied up in various degrading and sexually
revealing positions. Even though she was very flexible from
years of dance classes when she was younger, it did little to
help her body bear the strain from the awkward ways in which she
was bound. Worse, in order to relieve the strain, she was forced
at times to thrust her pelvis forward, and every time it
happened, there was almost always a hand or probing fingers
waiting for her. She fought against it for a time.
Every once and awhile the hood was pulled off. The Arab bitch
was always there smiling and trying to get her to eat or drink
something that would make her sick or kill her. This time it was
a quart of oil and a Backstreet Boys CD.
"Please . . .mercy . . . water . . .food . . . sleep. . ." Sara
rasped. Her lips were broken and as thick as her tongue.
"Not yet," Faiza said. "Jew not ready." And replaced the hood.
This time she bound Sara with both knees mounted to the posts at
thigh level.
Sara was in such a pathetic condition, her knees grew weak and
buckled within moments. Legs spread lewdly, her crotch sunk
towards the floor. Faiza smiled and tested the girl by probing
her cunt. There was a grunt below the hood, but the resistance
had ceased. Yes, it was time.
She set up everything she would need on the table beside the
bound American, and then she started with a sponge bath. The
pale skinned girl stunk. She had even wet herself during the
course of events.
After the American was clean, Faiza dipped her finger in scented
oil and ran them over the young girl's sex, exploring its
innermost regions. Sarah groaned. Her hips rolled in spite of
themselves. 'No, please, not like this,' she begged silently.
Faiza picked up a straight razor and began to shear the curly
pubes from the helpless soldier. Afterwards, she stepped back to
admire her handiwork. 'Not so fearsome now,' she thought to
herself, as her eyes ravished the slim pale naked body bound
tightly in front of her.
She dipped her fingers in the oil again. This may be the
American's last time. And the thought made her hot. She thrust
her fingers in Sarah's bald shiny defenseless sex. She fucked
it. She filled it with her fingers. Slowly adding them one
after another, until Sarah's cunt bulged obscenely from Faiza's
hand.
Even as the hood was taken off and Sarah realized it was a woman
who was taking her, she didn't try to fight. Back home there was
a handsome young college boy waiting for her, but here, this
pitiless Arab woman might be her only ally in this cruel, hot,
inhospitable country. Sarah's orgasm blossomed, and her body
shuddered briefly before her consciousness slipped away.
**********
The American passed out. Good. It made the next part easier for
Faiza. She was reluctant to do it, but it was necessary. Well,
maybe not necessary, but surely prudent. She heated the needle
red hot, and then pierced her prisoner's labia. She sealed them
tightly with small gold rings. Afterwards, she cleaned the area
with an antiseptic and proceeded to nurse the girl back to
health.
Sarah awoke with cool water on her lips. Briefly, she
entertained the hope it had all been a dread, but her aching
limbs and a new soreness suffusing her cunt told her otherwise.
But the water, the water was good. She sucked it from the
sponge. God, it was good.
"Nice, jes terrorist?"
Sarah nodded her head. And sucked greedily. A little more water
and her stomach growled. How long had it been she had last
eaten? It felt like she couldn't even remember her other life.
"Jew like better than makeup and oil, jes?"
"Yes." The water made it not so difficult to talk.
"Jew kill for this, maybe I understand," Faiza said, showing
Sarah the glass of water. "Jew kill for other," she pointed to
the various things she had tried to force the American to eat or
drink. "It make jew evil. Make jew a terrorist."
"You don't understand," Sarah said. "Your country harbored
terrorists and Saddam Hussein had very bad weapons." She did her
best to keep her language simple to make the woman understand.
"I think on this," Faiza said. She left the room for a few
minutes. Maybe, must maybe I've gotten through to her, Sarah
hoped.
However, when Faiza returned it was several newspaper clippings,
which she placed on the floor. Then she picked Sarah up and
helped her to her feet. But it wasn't to freedom that Sarah was
led, it was to several chains hanging from a wench attached to
the ceiling. When Sarah realized what was happening, she
struggled anew. But, she was weak and still bound. Faiza had no
problem securing her and then hoisting the newly bound girl up.
Lastly, she positioned the articles so that Sarah could read them
below her. "And jew should think on it too," she said before
leaving.
It was horrible. Sarah had never felt so weak and helpless, so
at the mercy of someone else's whim. Her arms were bound behind
her, and her weight was being supported by her shoulders and
knees. Within minutes her back was killing her. A little later,
her knees began to separate, and the pain settled into her thighs
and sex. It was then that she noticed the rings in her sex. Oh
God, they had ruined her. She broke down crying, sobbing, and
praying for rescue. She read the articles. They were from the
Washington post and they said there were no weapons of mass
destruction and there were no Al Quada links. Things she knew
already. She knew she was going to have to be much more careful
with what she said. Faiza was much smarter than she gave the
woman credit for.
When Faiza returned, Sarah hung limply. There wasn't even a
spark of fight left in her when she was let down.
"Jew eat and drink," Faiza said. "Maybe relax before we talk
again."
That was fine by Sarah. Especially if talking led to being bound
like that again. She lay in Faiza's arms, and let the Arab woman
give her sips of water. Faiza's robe was untied and her breasts
swung pendulously above Sarah's face. It was a little
disconcerting, but the American dared not to object, not when the
woman was singing a foreign song and wiping Sarah's forehead off
with a wet sponge, instead of hurting her or starving her. How
could the woman be so motherly one moment and so cruel the next?
She even accepted the little morsels of food Faiza fed her.
There was only one thing. The food - it tasted funny. Must be
different seasonings, she first thought. However, Faiza was
making little faces, faces that could only be described as
sexual. Sarah tried not to look, but her eyes were drawn to
Faiza's hand. Watched as she picked up a new morsel of food,
watched as her hand traveled beneath her robe. Oh God no! And
then with horror as it was presented to her mouth. Tears flowed
anew, but Sarah opened her mouth. Not only was she hungry, but
she was terrified of the Arab woman.
"Jew know why I'm doing this?" Faiza asked.
Sarah knew she shouldn't utter the words, but the lack of sleep
and everything else made it impossible to lie. They just spilled
out. "You're brainwashing me."
"No child," Faiza said. "Un-brainwashing jew."
No, it couldn't be.
"Jew don't believe me?"
No, not really. Faiza took out another newspaper clipping.
Sarah knew what was next. No, she couldn't be bound like that
again. "Please Faiza. I'm begging you. Please don't," she
sobbed.
"Jew not need to be bound?" Faiza asked.
"No-no-no." Sarah shook her head.
Faiza positioned the American on her hands and knees, with her
legs spread, her back arched, the newspaper article on the ground
in front of her. "Jew move one centimeter, up jew go," Faiza
warned.
Sarah was dog tired. The floor hurt her hands and knees, but she
didn't move an inch. The hardest thing was staying awake, but
she managed. The article was about the treatment of the
prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. The sleep deprivation, the
uncomfortable positions, they were both being used. Worse things
had happened to prisoner's that were taken to other countries to
be interrogated. It was terrible, but surely Faiza couldn't hold
her responsible for that. She wasn't in charge, she was only
following orders.
When Faiza returned, she was pleasantly surprised to see the
American still in place where she had left her. She had thought
the girl needed one last lesson. Well, she was due for a few more
lessons anyway. Faiza took off her robe and approached the
kneeling girl. Important lessons.
"Jew stay there," Faiza said, as she circled her prey. "Why jew
want to kill us, American terrorist? Why jew hate us?"
"I don't hate you." Oh God, the Arab woman was naked. Sarah
kept her head down to avoid having to look at the woman's plump
dark body.
"Look at me!" Faiza ordered.
Sarah obeyed instantly. Looking up from the below, it was
impossible to avoid glancing at the woman's sex and breasts.
"Then why do jew try to kill us?" Faiza demanded, grabbing the
girl by the hair and pushing her head back.
The thread of reality that Sarah clung to broke. It all spilled
out. She blubbered it all for several minutes. "I don't hate
you. I don't even want to be over here. Just wanted to pay for
college. Get out of Akron. I was just - I was just following
orders."
Faiza dried the American's tears and comforted her as best she
could. "So jew just following orders, jes?"
Sarah nodded her head. Finally, the woman understood.
"Jew just a slave to your master, Prezidant Bush?"
Yes, yes, Sarah nodded her head. It was a little simplified, but
that summed it up pretty well.
"Jew poor thing. Jew just have a bad master to make jew do bad
things. Jew just need a better master."
Sarah kept nodding her head. She had finally made a
breakthrough. Finally, gotten the woman to understand. Sarah was
so caught up, she didn't even notice as a collar was fastened
around her neck and leash attached.
Faiza walked to a seat, pulling the American along behind her.
She sat down and led the girl between her open legs, to the wet
lips of her cunt. "Here slave, meet jour new master - jour new
Master Bush."
Sarah was crying again. It wasn't supposed to turn out like
this. She was supposed to be let go. And - and she wasn't a
lesbian. She didn't like girls. Not like that.
"Jew think I should let jew go instead?"
"please. . ." Sarah was a whining pathetic sight.
"Then jew go back to doing bad things for jour old master Bush.
Maybe jew kill people. Maybe jew be killed," Faiza said. "No,
this way better. Jew give pleasure. I make sure jew taken care
of."
Maybe Faiza was right. Sarah hated being in the army. She just
wanted out. Just wanted to go home. She was tired of worrying
constantly about being shot or killed. Tired of wondering if
what she was doing was right. Sarah looked between Faiza's legs.
God the woman was hairy. Master Bush was about as accurate
description as possible. She shuddered at the thought of how it
would taste . . . how it would smell. Sarah closed her eyes,
leaned forward, and kissed the Arab woman on her sex and was
rewarded with a pleasing sigh. It wasn't so bad. She kissed it
again and then began to lick in earnest.
"Jes, please jour new master Bush."
**********
"Omar, I want to show you something," Faiza said, as she led her
captive out by her leash. It was Sarah's first time out of the
basement and the change was obvious. She was meek and
submissive. Her body was well oiled and quite naked, and moved
with a sensuousness that wasn't there before. Here wrists were
tied together behind her back.
"Woman, what have you done," Omar shouted. "You've brought death
to our house."
"Death could come here any day," Faiza said calmly. "The
American won't tell. She's my slave - our slave," she hastily
added. The truth was; the girl was hers. She would serve Omar,
but Omar wasn't a very good lover - a thick cock with little
imagination. Not like the lovers she had when she went to
college in the states. But she had a lover now - a lover who
would lick her for hours until she cried in ecstasy over and over
again.
"She can do things lover," Faiza said, caressing her husband's
thick cock through his robe. Despite his protests it was already
hard.
"It would be a sin to lay with her." Omar spat at Sarah's feet.
"I should beat you for this," he said to Faiza.
Meanwhile Sarah knelt on the floor at Omar's feet, with her
thighs spread wide and her eyes cast to the floor. She wished
she understood what the two Arabs were saying.
"She's only an infidel," Faiza said, freeing her husband's large
prick from his robe. Faiza pointed to Sarah's ringed sex.
"Besides, her womanhood is useless, so you don't have to worry
about temptation to sin. But she has other ways she can please,
like with her mouth and her ass. Just think of her as your hand.
A tight moist hand for your pleasure."
Faiza lay down next to her husband, held up her husband's cock,
and guided her American slave to his balls. She could smell her
husband from there, and she didn't envy the poor American.
Sarah barely noticed. To her it was just a job. She did as she
was told. With her hands locked behind her, she depended on
Faiza's guiding hand to please her master. Faiza guided Sarah
over Omar's thick cock, then up and down its shaft. In another
life, it could have been a cock to give Sarah pleasure or even
babies. But, here in the hot arid sands, it was an assignment - a
mission from her new master. With her sex ringed shut and with
specific orders never to touch herself, she depended on her
mistress for sexual relief - for everything.
When Omar came, she swallowed every drop. Afterwards, she
cleaned him with her tongue - his first bath in days.
"Okay, she can stay," Omar muttered. He watched with mild
interest as Faiza pulled the American's head beneath her robe.
Was it his imagination or was the white slut a little more eager
to please his wife? No, matter, he would claim her tight
American ass tonight. See how she likes that.
He didn't know it, but Faiza had already claimed that honor for
herself. That shapely well oiled American ass had been plundered
by Faiza's hand time and time again. Poor Omar would have to
settle for the spoils of war.
The end
*******
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