Sergeant Mann

The room was dark, not even enough light to make out the outline of the room. He could taste the mold in the air and feel the cold wet slime on the stone floor under him. His arms and legs had been bound behind him before he was dumped into the dark room.

"Matthew Mann, Master Sergeant, JT1011369." he said quietly to himself. He knew what was coming; he would be interrogated, tortured and likely killed. He didn't have much information they would want, save the location of the next operation. Two teams of highly-trained men were on their way. If he could keep his mouth shut, those men would succeed. If he was weak, he would be sentencing those men to die in an ambush. "They will not die." he said with cold hard conviction.

The grating screech of metal on metal heralded the return of his captors. Adrenaline flooded his veins. The air burned his nose and copper coated the back of his throat. Light sliced through the darkness and into Matthew's eyes. He was blinded and pain lanced through his head. A large gloved hand closed around his arm. The restraints on his ankles loosened and he was jerked to standing with a sickening crack of his left shoulder. Before he could feel the pain of it, he was being propelled forward. A tentative flexing of his muscles confirmed that the shoulder was stiff but not injured.

Blurry images began to register as his eyes adjusted. Two large masses of olive drab walked next to him. The bear paw that was propelling him forward belonged to an ugly brute to his right. The man was a couple of inches shorted than Matthew but nearly twice as wide. The face was set in a grimace that made him look like a perverse and malformed cherub, twisted features on the round face.

The man on Matthew's left was leaner and wiry and wore a smug grin with his rat-like features. Rat-man met Matthew's eyes and snorted arrogantly. A fresh thrill of adrenaline coursed through Matthew, this time accompanied by the burning desire to head-butt Rat-man. If The Bear slackened his grip, even slightly, Matthew wouldn't hesitate to break Rat-man's nose.

The walk along the gray, featureless, stone hallway was short and The Bear tossed Matthew into an open door. This room held an odd assortment of old furniture. There was a straight-backed chair in the center of the room. Facing it, was a worn leather arm chair. Next to the armchair was an elegant mahogany side table with a drawer. On it sat a clipboard, a stack of papers, and a menacing looking bundle of leather.

Rat-man lifted Matthew into the straight-backed metal chain and shackled him to it. Matthew looked around the room. Examining the curious mixture of furniture. A long steel table stretched behind him, he couldn't see much of it but he could make out a round, curved bump in the shadow under the table. A large grandfather clock stood next to the wall. Twelve o'clock, the face displayed. There were no windows in the dark grey walls and Matthew was trying to reason out whether it was noon or midnight and whether he'd been held for a few hours or a few days. He hadn't been given food or water and while his mouth was dry, he was still lucid, hours then, it must be midnight.

The loud rhythmic clap clap clap of boots told Matthew that someone else had entered the room from an unseen door. This new person was lighter, significantly less body mass than himself, Rat-man, or The Bear. The steps were quick and determined, confident. "Well, well, well, look at this fine specimen of soldier! Master Sergeant Mann? Isn't it?" a smooth sultry voice chuckled. Matthew could hear a slight accent.

"Yes ma'am. Master Sergeant Matthew Mann, JT1011369."

"Master Sergeant Mann, have you been treated well as our guest?" The woman sauntered into view. Matthew choked. She looked as if she'd stepped out of a cold-war photograph. She wore a white button-down blouse with flared sleeves pulled tight to her wrists with crisp, rigid cuffs. She had a long thin navy blue tie with a half-windsor knot. She wore a figure-hugging pair of navy pants that flared at the hip and tapered into thick black boots. She wore an over-sized captain's hat that cast a shadow over piercing green eyes.

"Just fine ma'am." Matthew said, setting his jaw. The woman's eyes glinted with amusement as she sat leisurely in the large armchair.

"Have you had anything to eat?" she asked, her voice thick with stifled laughter.

"No ma'am, we haven't had time for that." Matthew said jovially. The woman's eyes flashed again and a wide grin spread across her face. The woman gestured and Rat-man scurried out.

"The men you were captured with are not your compatriots. They are Italian spies. You were stationed with them as a requirement of your treaty with NATO. Your loyalties are with the soldiers in the planned attack." She watched his face. "Oh yes, we know about the upcoming attack." Matthew's face registered a moment of surprise then reset in defiance.

"It would seem you have more information than I do." Matthew said confidently. A cruel smile twisted the woman's face. She looked both beautiful and terrible.

Rat-man returned with a tray of food. He set the tray down on the steel table. With another gesture, Matthew's chair was moved and his hands were released. The Bear had moved him to the table.

"Eat," the woman said. Matthew looked at the food dubiously but there wasn't much he could do. Whether or not the food was drugged, he was at their mercy. He ate quickly and swallowed the whole cup of milk in one gulp. The Bear slid Matthew's chair back in place and chained his arms behind him. The woman rose gracefully and strode forward.

"Such a handsome boy!" She purred as she traced his cheek with her finger. "Are you a good soldier Master Sergeant Mann? Loyal, brave? Do you follow orders, handsome soldier?" The question was a taunt and Matthew kept his tongue. The woman presses her hand into his upper thigh.

"You can see that my choices are very limited. A good boy would have his rewards here." she whispered in his ear. She straightened up and slapped his face. "I will not be so kind if you do not answer my questions." She returned to perch on the arm of the leather chair.

"What did you know of the spies' mission," her voice got harder.

"Our mission was not a spy mission," he answered simply.

"So you knew what they were doing?"

"That was heavy handed," Matthew said, "Master Sergeant Mann, JT1011369." He watched her grimace. She hadn't expected him to be so aware. Her face quickly reset in a cruel smile.

"You aren't a stupid man. You know what they were after."

"Master Sergeant..."

"Yes, yes, yes, you aren't going to talk to me." She smiled in genuine amusement. Matthew couldn't help but react, she was beautiful.

"If you cooperate with me, you get not only your reward, but I'll let you contact your attacking forces and warn them. They don't have to die." Her voice was kind and pleading. "Just tell me about those Italians, you can be the hero you want to be. Those spies were nothing, they set you up." She opened her mouth to continue but there was a light tap at an unseen door. She gestured and The Bear moved away.

"I'm sorry Captain Wagner," the messenger said. The woman, Captain Wagner, clapped quickly away. Rat-man and The Bear followed her.

Matthew ignored the ache in his shoulder and started looking for a way to escape. He shifted his weight, trying to scoot the chair. He'd managed to get a foot from the side table when he heard her quick footsteps. Her low chuckle sent a fresh dose of adrenaline through him.

"Every good soldier's duty to escape," she laughed.

"Something like that," he spat. She pulled his chair back into place and slapped him.

"You know what those Italians were up to, as sure as you know of the impending attack. Please Matthew, please tell me," her tone was pleading and soft. "Be the hero, bring the peace." Her words were a cruel jab into his soul.

"Master Sergeant Matthew Mann, JT1011369," he said confidently, his only weapon to hide his torment. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Come now, be a good boy." Captain Wagner taunted.

"We were not on any spy mission,I know nothing of any impending attack. I'm of no use to you as a bartering tool. Kill me or release me, it makes no difference," he offered.

"You don't really expect me to believe that do you," she countered, her voice harder. "You were done with your mission, those spies had all kinds of information in their possession. You were headed to your new assignment." She caressed his cheek. "I like you; I don't want anything to happen to you. Just tell me you knew nothing of the spy mission, tell me you were headed to rendezvous with invading forces." She looked sad, sympathetic. Matthew's brain whirled. If he were any weaker, her pleading and twisted logic would be working.

"I told you, I have nothing to tell you." Matthew's voice was hard. Captain Wagner snorted. She took her over-sized hat off and shook out her long blonde hair. She leaned in and started massaging his shoulders.

"Let me make it better." She shook her hair in his face. She smelled of lemons and roses. "Just tell me what I need to hear so I can make you feel good." She pressed her breasts into his face.

"Master Sergeant Matthew Mann, JT1011369," he choked out, cursing the break in his voice. Captain Wagner hissed and stood up, slapping his face. The sting shot straight to his groin. He groaned involuntarily. Captain Wagner's eyes lit up.

"Oh you liked that didn't you, Master Sergeant." she purred. She pressed her hand against his hardening penis. She slapped him again with the other hand and felt him twitch in response.

"What a naughty boy you are!" she exclaimed with a squeeze of his penis. She reached behind him and released his hands. Predictably, he swung. She neatly dodged his attempts and walked behind him. Leaning into his ear she purred, "Now stop that and put your arms down or I'll have to call someone in." Hoping to lure her into a better position, Matthew placed his hands in his lap. Captain Wagner lowered one of his arms, being careful to stay out of range of the other. She shackled his right wrist to a chain under the chair, leaving his left hand free. She lifted his left hand to her breast.

"Tell me," she rasped.

"We weren't on any spy mission," Matthew stammered out.

"So how do you explain all of the information we found on your comrades," she spat, jerking his left arm down and shackling it into place.

"I know of no such information. There wasn't any. You're lying," he countered, struggling against the restraints. Captain Wagner's eyes darkened with ire at his rejection.

"It is unwise to toy with me, Master Sergeant Mann." Her voice was quiet and cold. "You know as well as I do that no one can resist torture. You will tell me everything eventually."

"You know as well as I do, Captain Wagner, that anything I tell you under torture will be what I think you want to hear and will hold no more truth than if you wrote it yourself." He smiled smugly. She moved so quickly that Matthew didn't know what happened. She grabbed the leather mass and a deafening crack rang through the air. It was some kind of whip. He swallowed hard and made himself look at it. It was a short bundle of leather straps, a cat-o-nine, with evil-looking metal points at the end of each thin strip of leather. He could be flogged for hours and healed within days.

"Those Italians had no luggage, no gear, no clothes with them. Where are the rest of their belongings?" she cracked the flogger against the back of his chair, a threat.

"They had no belongings."

CRACK! His arm stung.

"Where were they headed?"

"To Rome. Just soldiers separated from their squadron."

CRACK! The other arm.

"Where was the rest of their guard, your team?"

"Killed." The word was dry and flat as he spoke it. He braced for the coming sting.

"See," she purred, "no harm will come to you when you tell me the truth." The captain rubbed the areas she had just struck.

"Where were you headed?"

"To rendezvous with Italian forces and await orders."

"Hm. That might be true." She fondled her weapon lovingly.

"When your troops attack on the river's west bank, were you to be there?" She was fishing, he didn't take the bait.

"I know of no such attack."

CRACK!

His right arm again. He had been expecting her to hit his other thigh, the sting make more pronounced by the surprise.

"Come now, sweet Matthew, please let me be nice to you. Just tell me you were on your way back to your comrades. Tell me you're a good boy, a good soldier, instead of a filthy spy," she purred, tickling his neck. Matthew held onto the pain in his arms. He concentrated on each raw pulse and the dull ache that lingered in the shoulders. Holding tightly to the pain kept him alert, kept his mind clear. He couldn't afford to let the endorphins cloud his thoughts.

A feathery tickle of breath ghosted on his neck. The shock stopped his brain. A gentle kiss followed by a small flick of her tongue.

"Please," she begged in a whisper.

"I know nothing," he breathed.

"So brave, so honor-bound, so handsome. Please, please give me a way out of this. Give me something so you can go from spy to POW, please." she bit down softly on his earlobe.

"I'm no spy. There was no spy mission." he mumbled. Not even the lingering pain in his arms and where her hand now rested on his thigh could clear the haze of lust that now scrambled his thoughts. He had been trained to resist torture but no man could resist such a woman, and certainly not after months in the field.

"So you knew nothing about the documents your Italian companions had," she purred. He knew he needed to refute her but he was having trouble forming the words.

"No, no documents," he rasped.

SLAP!

She slapped his cheek then leaned in to nuzzle the reddened skin. Matthew moaned.

"Yes, documents. Did you know about them?" she licked his cheek.

"No."

"Were you headed to join your own invading forces?" She stroked his hair.

"Hm mm." he moaned.

"No you weren't going to join them?" she placed a delicate kiss on his eyelid.

"No." He reached for her lips with his. His eyes were closed and he didn't see her smirk.

"You weren't headed to the west bank?" She kissed his other eyelid.

"Yes."

SLAP!

Another stinging jolt followed by her tongue soothing the slap.

"Where were you headed?"

"I was headed to the west bank." He hadn't opened his eyes yet.

"Were you joining an invasion force there?" She kissed the corner of his mouth.

"No." he moaned.

"You had another mission?"

"Mm hm." he moaned, thrusting his hips up.

"What were you going to do?" She traced his lips with her tongue.

"Just recon." he moaned again and captured her mouth with his. She groaned into his kiss. She rocked against him and tugged his hair while she kissed him. Matthew groaned in protest as his body surrendered and shuddered beneath her. She gasped as he bit down on her lip with the force of his orgasm. She slapped his face and stood with a smirk.

"Perhaps your commanders should make sure you have more leave. Some time with a prostitute would have prevented your confession." Captain Wagner grinned triumphantly. Matthew let his head slump forward. With a condescending pat of his head, she turned and sauntered away.

A smile crept across Master Sergeant Matthew Mann's face as he squirmed at the rapidly cooling sticky mess in his pants, confident that the forces on the west bank were safe.