War Prize Ch. 02

Author's note: This is the second of a three chapter story. All three chapters are about this same length. All parts are complete and will be submitted quickly (unless something weird happens).

This is the first NonCon story I've written, and I'm grateful for any feedback readers want to give. Though, I would ask that you read all chapters before sending any.

Many thanks to RustyOzNail, HotCappucino and SimonDoom for their critiques and help with editing.

I hope you all enjoy it.

Belle

War Prize: Chapter 2

She faces her fate

She lay chained in the bed, with the General who claimed her curled around behind. His bulk and his warmth had been an odd comfort in her situation. She'd tried to will herself to stay awake, but the long day, the punishment, and the pain relieving medicine in the beverage that had been her only meal conspired to sap her strength.

She lay in the bed, her nose full of their comingled scents, and her stomach itching where the load of his ejaculate was drying. Her mind slowing down from the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that had assailed her. Her attempted escape thwarted, she had been informed of her new status as the chattel property of this enemy General, whose arm draped possessively over her.

She'd been designated his Slave Consort. He'd called her Essie. She, determined to keep her last vow to her now deceased Mate, hadn't spoken at all.

Heavily, she sighed. And slept.

~~**~~**~~**~~

The nightmare was a series of memories, sliced and jumbled together. Memories mashed into a mass of inchoate dread. She ran headlong through the woods. Her face whipped by branches and her skirts sticking to her shins. Pursued by unseen tormentors. She ran down stairs, endless flights of stairs. She carried all the possessions she could fit into a backpack almost too heavy for her to lift. She ran through a dark tunnel, water dripping down the sides. She huddled in a crowd, underground, as explosions shook the city above them. Hands groped at her, frightened people surrounding her, the air thick, hot, stifling. Then darkness. She huddled, alone, at the edge of a large drainage pipe, soaked, stinking of sweat and piss and fear. She curled in on herself, freezing.

She was found, hauled out from a hiding place. It could have been the drain pipe. It could have been the tree. Maybe it was the attic of the church she'd crawled into with another woman. Her fighting and screaming were meaningless. She was overpowered, beaten, fingers and hands invading her body as much as the enemy army had invaded her land.

Then, older terrors. A different dress, ripped from her in shreds. Other hands, not soldiers, grasping and plunging into her hidden depths. Other hands beating her, blaming her. Running. Running. Running.

At the edge of wakefulness, she rattled in her chains, and screamed.

~~**~~**~~**~~

She woke up panting, unsure if her scream had volume or was only in her head. She shook the chains and reared back into the man laying behind her. He flung a leg over hers; he moved his arm to wrap her waist tightly. She felt his other arm slide under her neck reaching out for her hands. She shivered in his embrace.

"Sshh, S C, shhh. You're safe," he whispered. "You're safe here. You're safe with me. I know you don't believe me. You're safe with me now. And I promise I will do everything I can to keep you safe."

She cried then, tears for her losses. She cried silently, thinking, 'The only promise He ever broke was that we would survive together.'

But she moved her hands to twine her fingers with the General's.

++~~++~~++~~++

In the morning when she stirred, the General was already awake. He'd remained in the same position, embracing her with his arms and his leg draped over hers. He waited until she moved, until he heard the tattletale of the chain. She heard his breathing change. She felt his morning erection insistent at her backside. She felt him shifting, his leg moved back behind both of hers. The hand under her snaked around and engulfed her breast, squeezing up, pushing them together. His rough palm rubbed on her nipple.

His upper hand slid down her front, to the join of her legs, cupping her mound. He pressed the flat of his hand into her, clamping her body between his limbs and his torso. His prick settled between her cheeks with only his sweat to ease his movement. He held her still as he rocked behind her, and she realized he wasn't attempting to penetrate her, but was content to slide himself in that cleft, using her body as some kind of masturbatory sleeve. She rolled her eyes, and tried to counter his movement.

His fingers found her other split, and began their slow tease of her most sensitive nerves. He probed gently but unceasingly, opening her even as she attempted to press her knees together. He used his motion behind her to gain purchase between her legs, until his fingers and thumb found their prize. The fingers of his other hand worked on her breasts, alternating between them, alternating pinching and rolling her nipples with more gentle movements which incorporated the whole globe of her breast. The heat off his body seeped into her. She soon began sweating also, and this addition gave him a more fluid glide in the crack of her ass.

He completed his control over her by laying his head down on hers. He pressed her into the pillow, then she felt his tongue and lips on her ear. He licked her earlobe, lightly, and behind her ear. She rolled her eyes again, not in disdain or exasperation, but in enjoyment, despite herself. He kissed her neck, his mouth pressed hard into the pulse just below her chin. He moved his mouth lower, his tongue flicking under the edge of the collar, and then drawing on the skin at her shoulder. Involuntarily, she tilted her head, and he moved against her, now capturing her earlobe with his teeth. He held her firmly, pulling, but causing no pain. Instead she felt a flood of memory again, that overwhelming sense of familiarity which disoriented her.

In her momentary confusion, she relaxed into him. He pressed his advantage by diving his fingers more deeply into her sex and redoubling his pace at her back. His fingers found her clit, and worked it relentlessly, pressing the nerves into her mound and flicking his finger over the end as rapidly as he could. Unthinkingly, she matched his pace, now pumping her hips into his hand as he pumped behind her. Once more, she orgasmed, cursing him in her mind even as she cursed her own body. Even as her mind spun and she attempted to divine if there really were the similarities she believed, or if she was inventing things to assuage her own guilt. For surviving. For being alive when He wasn't. For not making them kill her when she had the chance.

He spurted onto her back, with a few final jerks and a low growl. His hand spasmed on her breast, and his voice vibrated in her ear. His sweat dripped onto her just as his semen squirted onto her. He peeled himself off of her, and she rolled, as best she could, onto her stomach. She could push her hands up some, but her there wasn't enough slack in the chain at her ankles to move her feet. She twisted as he yanked the sheet and blanket off of them both. The mattress shifted again as he got out of bed. She buried her face in the pillow, wiping her tears and her sweat and not wanting to see him.

She listened to him shuffling around, scratching, getting dressed. Her stomach growled. Her bladder was full. She was no longer sore. She still felt tired, though she judged that she had slept more since her recapture than she had in weeks. She decided to blame the drugs from the beverage the day before.

The General appeared next to her, leaning down to unhook her arm restraints from the bed. He disengaged the chain, only to affix it to her collar. Then he unhooked the ankle restraints. He thumbed a button on the control fob, and her restraints detached from themselves, giving her mostly free movement.

"Come on," he said, somewhat gruffly.

They walked to the back of the tent, and he again gestured for her to sit on the toilet. She did, and once more, she stared at him, refusing to relieve herself.

"No," he said, more sternly. "I'm not turning away. Let me watch."

She pressed her knees together, leaned her elbows on them, and glared at him.

"I know you're not shy. Let. Me. Watch."

'How can you know anything?' she thought, even as she prevented herself from responding to his tone. She prevented herself from assuming His favored position, when He wanted to watch her. She sat up straighter, and the General immediately wound the slack in the chain around his hand, holding her head.

"I can stand here longer than you can hold it, S C."

'Wanna bet?' she thought, as she narrowed her eyes, tossing her head.

He sighed, glanced up, and muttered something under his breath.

When he looked at her again, he said, "Ok. Let me watch you, and I'll take off that harness for the rest of the day."

She thought of the gentle pulse from the implanted vibrator when she'd made eye contact with him. And now this promise.

'You like to deal in reward as well as punishment,' she thought.

She decided it was worth indulging him, to get the metal from around her chest. She sat back, placed her hands at the inside of her knees, and spread them wide. Spread very wide, her hands pressing and holding her. The General stepped toward the toilet, gathering the chain as he went, until he could peer down at her.

She let her bladder go. She noted that his eyes immediately went to her sex, to where her stream of urine exited her. She watched his nostrils flare as he breathed deeply, and saw the hint of a smile play at the corners of his mouth. She leaned back, on to the back of the toilet, and had a sudden memory of Him, watching her in the same way and then stepping forward to relieve Himself on her. The memory caught in her mind and she swallowed a smile.

As she finished, the General did step forward. He did unzip his pants and reach to pull out his now flaccid member. He moved closer, one hand wrapped around the chain at her neck, and his other on himself. He aimed, not for her body, but for the space between her legs. He let his water join hers in the toilet and only a few drops splashed onto her legs and crotch.

When he shook himself, she once again had to resist an urge, to lean forward and suck the last drops from him. She had to resist the thought that maybe this General might taste like Him. She closed her eyes against the impulse. She shook her head.

The General tugged on her chain and led back to the main area of the tent. Near the cot was also a small table and a couple of metal chairs. The General reached up, clipping the other end of the chain to a large metal hoop. He turned her to face him, and pressed a series of buttons on the fob. There was a click in the metal bar at her sternum, and a slight decrease in pressure. The General reached forward, pulling the two halves of the front apart, and then pulling them slightly wider. That relieved the tension at her sides and the back half of the harness came away.

She sucked in a very deep breath and inclined her head. He returned the gesture. He motioned for her to sit at one of the chairs, and then brought two bottles similar to the one she'd had the day before.

She eyed the bottle, suspicious. He took a sip from one, and then put it in front of her.

"These don't have any medicines in them. You won't fall asleep. They're designed to provide all needed nutrition. Remember, I'm not going to allow you to kill yourself, so refusing to eat isn't going to help you."

He stepped away from her. "Between the track above you and the length of the chain at your collar, you should have plenty of distance to use the toilet or even lie down on the cot if you want. You can walk in circles if you want. You won't be able to come closer to where I'm working. And I have a meeting later today and I'll need to restrain you in one of these chairs before I go. But while I'm here, you have some movement."

He walked away from the table, and she took a tentative sip. It was similar to what she'd had the day before. A little sweet, a little tart, less creamy, more icy. But especially refreshing to start the day. The General reappeared with a tablet.

"There are some games, some activities on this. It has some highly limited access to news. But I'm not sure you want to see that. It also has about a thousand books, classics and modern literature from both our countries. He said you like to read."

He dropped the tablet and walked away. She sat there, stunned, comprehending his statement, but not fully believing it. For the first time, she almost lost her will to stay silent. She almost asked the General a question. But he was gone, at the other end of the tent. With shaking hands, she picked up the bottle and drank deeply.

She put the bottle back down, and stared at the tablet. She made no move to pick it up or trigger any of the programs. She blinked back tears, trembling still. She slumped back in the chair and allowed a cascade of memory and emotion to flow over her. At some point she laid her head on the table, covering it with her hands. She ran her fingers through her shorn hair, tugging on what was left and toying with the idea of pulling the rest of it out. Her fury rose, but was soon swamped by confusion and sadness. When the storm of emotions passed, she noted that her fear had vanished.

She drank more of the beverage slowly, pausing to gauge whether the General had lied to her about its contents. She felt no drowsiness, no ill effects, and her stomach seemed to settle. She sipped while she mused and reminisced.

The memories were brief snippets, flashes, snapshots held in her mind of her life with Him. His steely blue eyes, amused, or angry, or aroused. His soft baritone in her ear, cajoling, correcting, or comforting. She thought of Him, weary after a long day of work, taking His ease in her body. His mouth on her, His hands kneading her flesh, His hot breath in her ear. Pictures and pieces of memories of her long years with Him, learning to anticipate His needs, learning to ignore her own wants. She thought about all she'd allowed Him to teach her in that time. Her self-control. Her ability to manage her fear, to endure pain, to separate her body's reactions from her mind's. She sat, thinking and beginning to weigh her options.

++~~++~~++~~++

She decided to test the limits of her restrictions. She walked to the cot and laid down; there was slack in the chain. She walked the perimeter of this central area of the tent, listening to the attachment sliding around the metal hoop. She went into the toilet area, using those amenities again. She went back to the table. She sat, picked up the tablet and activated it. She absentmindedly riffled through the options, the library, some juvenile games. Nothing attracted her attention.

She thought about the few things the General had said. She had a half formed desire to ask how he thought he knew anything about her. She strode toward the General, and the chain brought her up short level with the support pole in the middle. He was at least five feet further away. She watched him for a while as he seemingly paid no attention to what she was doing. As he was apparently content to trust the confines of the chain at her neck. In watching him, her question faded, replaced by a resolve to maintain her silence, and give him no more clues about her. She looked past him down the length of the long bench. She saw more equipment, and at the end, hanging on a hook in a support pole, his camouflage jacket, and what looked like a belt.

At midday, he came back to the table carrying two mugs full of stew, and two glasses of clear water. He sat at the table with her and they ate. He didn't attempt to talk to her. She watched him eat, observing the details of his appearance and mannerisms. She puzzled over his statements, and she reluctantly admitted to herself that he seemed to know what her body liked. But she reasoned that she was not so different from most women, and his skill might be meaningless.

He cleared away the dishes when they were done eating, but quickly came back to her.

"I have to leave for a couple of hours. You should use the toilet, because I am going to restrain you in this chair while I'm gone."

She did as he suggested, and took a few extra circuits around the room before he reached up and hauled her to him by the chain.

"Sit," he said, angrily.

She did, and immediately each ankle locked itself to a chair leg. He took each of her arms and folded them behind the back of the chair, wrist to elbow. The forearm restraints locked together. He took up all the slack in the chain at her neck, pulling it taut as she sat upright in the chair. The chair was positioned almost directly under the hoop. The rest of the chain hung down and he looped that end around her forearms, then he squatted to pull that loose chain through the cross brace of the chair legs and around one ankle. He connected the end back to the length of the chain. She sat there impassively while he was finishing his work. When he was done, he cupped her chin with one hand and tilted her head.

When she looked at him, he said, "There are sentries posted. You won't be able to get out, even if you could stand up from this chair." He jerked his head toward the tent opening. "You know what's out there, too. I'll be back later."

He stroked her cheek, and smoothed back the short hair which flopped into her face. He moved the table closer to her chair and propped the tablet up so she could see the screen.

"It's voice activated, too. The command 'Library' will get you to the books. Say 'Resume' and it'll open up where you left off. 'Turn' to change the page."

She looked at him, feeling oddly triumphant that he had so badly misjudged her silence. It wasn't about a refusal to talk to him. She ducked her head, smiling, that he had inadvertently renewed her resistance. He turned and walked away. As he disappeared from her sight, the implanted device sitting atop her internal clitoris started vibrating. It was a low, soft rumbling, which served to attract her attention and divide her will.

'Shit,' she thought. 'Maybe that bastard knows what he's doing after all.'

++~~++~~++~~++

By the time he returned from his meeting, she was a mess. The device had continued to vibrate at a low intensity, interspersed with occasional electrical impulses. The slight shocks kept her from drifting off completely. The setting of the device had served to frustrate her arousal. She was covered in sweat, and her skin was flushed. The short hair curling at her forehead and the nape of her neck was wet and now stuck out due to her repeatedly shaking her head violently. Her crotch was completely drenched, and at some point she'd urinated again. Her scent was thick in the air.

She'd been close to orgasm for so long she couldn't tell the time. She'd bucked and rocked on the seat of the chair, but it was too smooth, and once her lubrication made the whole thing slippery, there was nothing to cause the friction she needed. She wore herself out attempting to get that last bit of stimulation that would trigger a climax, and her frustration grew with each passing moment. She couldn't have paid attention to the book if her life depended on it. She couldn't have slept or rested or eaten. Her body was one raw nerve.

Her mind was roiled, confused flashes of memories, some good, some bad, some fantastical. A mixture of sweat and angry tears rolled down her face. Her head lolled back and her eyes fluttered shut. Then another impulse from the device jerked her eyes open and a soft moan fell from her mouth. She didn't hear the General approaching. After one jolt, she opened her eyes and saw a form in front of her, standing at the other side of the table and watching. She couldn't focus, and her eyes slipped closed again.