War Prize Ch. 02

She relaxed into the restraints, she had more than enough experience and practice to know that struggling would only tire her out and make her more uncomfortable. She allowed her head to sink into the pillow wedged behind it, and rolled her hands and feet periodically. There was enough give that none of her joints felt stretched. The blanket covered her mostly, the top edge having landed on her chest and only her feet peeking out from the sides. She was warm and not uncomfortable. Especially as compared to some of the situations He had left her in. That He delighted in leaving her, to test her endurance or her willingness to obey Him. Not knowing how long she'd be left there, she allowed herself to close her eyes and her mind to drift.

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

She'd met Him when she was a month shy of her twentieth year, just over a year from official maturity and therefor that much closer to no longer being under her father's authority. He'd been disappointed in her since her birth, having convinced himself that he was owed only sons. When she had been notified of her acceptance into the state's sponsored university near their city, he'd laughed and marked it a sign of the failures of the new government.

She met Him in a class. He was a graduate level teaching assistant, furthering His studies in a subset of the same general social psychology program she was taking. He was back in school following several years in the military and was eight years her senior. At first, she barely noticed Him. But she made a comment in class one day and His reaction was positive and encouraging. She noticed His kind blue eyes and His wavy hair, and the dimple in one cheek when He smiled. A few classes later, He asked to speak to her afterward, and gave her some constructive criticism on the paper she'd just completed. They met often after that, talking, enjoying each other's company. He loaned her books from His personal library and they discussed how her horizons broadened.

It was more than six months into the relationship before He kissed her, and that was a chaste simple brush of His lips on hers as comfort when she was upset by some missive from her parents. It was another six months, after the celebration of her twenty first year, that He took her to bed. She readily admitted her inexperience and her trauma, and He'd been gentle and thorough and kind. He'd held her tightly afterward, when the emotions of their act left her sobbing.

It was later, over the course of the last year of her schooling, that He began teaching her what He wanted her to know, and eliciting the responses from her that He desired. She took each correction and exploration to heart, finding pleasure in pleasing Him, and strength in submitting to Him. She taught herself to read His moods, and anticipate His wants. She strove to please Him, pushing herself to participate in acts that would only have disgusted her in years prior. She understood that the pain and her tears were integral to the process, and she basked in His praise when she earned it.

The next year her father surprised her by deigning to attend her graduation ceremony. She introduced Him to her parents and her father reacted with his trademark derision. After the graduation reception her father claimed he had managed to find a suitable spouse, a marriage advantageous to him, despite her obvious shortcomings. Her father demanded that she return with him to her childhood home, and threatened to disown her if she disobeyed.

She remembered, vividly. She stood in the hallway of the auditorium, her father glowering at her and Him behind her, leaning on a wall. He said nothing, made no argument, nor attempted to persuade her. She realized later that He'd had no need to. She was already His.

When she turned and walked toward Him, stretching up to kiss Him, her father was apoplectic. She took His hand and He led her away. They went to His apartment, and until the invasion, they had never been apart. He continued to test her, continued to mold her to His desires. He never failed to encourage her successes. But He also never failed to punish her transgressions. He was a harsh taskmaster, but also taught her to love and respect herself. It was an unequal Partnership, by design, but no less a truly reciprocal bond.

And now she was alone. He was gone, a victim of a war He'd advocated. And she was trapped, imprisoned, chattel, claimed by a man purporting to be His long-lost kin.

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

She drifted at the edge of sleep, sometimes dozing, sometimes acutely aware that time ticked slowly by. She wasn't uncomfortable, but she was truly bored for the first time in a very long while. There was only so much information she could glean from the play of shadows along the upper edges of the tent wall. Some hours later, a young soldier entered the room, unhooking her silently and leading her to the bathroom. She was somewhat surprised at his lack of surprise, but thought of all the time she'd spent unconscious in the tent, and wondered who'd been able to gawk at her when she was insensate.

She didn't resist when the soldier brought her back to the room and began reaffixing the chains. She did almost ask to be brought the tablet, so she could listen to a book, but something about the grim set of the young man's mouth and the rapidity with which he moved told her that her request would have been ignored.

He adjusted the chains a little bit tighter than the General had, and covered her haphazardly. After a while, her shoulders began to ache, and the blanket slipped, leaving her chest mostly exposed. Too uncomfortable for slumber, her mind raced about the possibilities of this lengthy meeting that had taken up most of the General's day. She strove to listen to the sounds of the camp, but couldn't divine any meaning from what she heard.

Finally, after the noises of the camp had quieted for the night, she heard the sharp tone of the General's voice addressing someone near the tent. Moments later, the flap concealing his bed jerked open and he strode into the curtained off area. He glared at her, reaching down, snapping the blanket off and tossing it to one side.

"You are governed by fools," he said, his voice gruff. "Bigger fools, even, than I am governed by."

His eyes had darkened somehow, or his pupils were dilated. He breathed as though he'd run most of the way to this destination. He ripped off his clothes as though his uniform was suddenly unbearable and glowered down at her with a mixture of anger and raw need that caused her heart to beat rapidly. And caused her loins to fill in anticipation. She briefly closed her eyes, memories flashing brightly even as she listened to the General muttering and stalking around the room.

She was surprised when the implanted device thrummed into action, revving at a high rate and causing her to dig her hips into the mattress. When she opened her eyes, the General stood at the end of the bed naked, his penis tumescent and his eyes narrowed. As she writhed and rocked in concert with the vibrations inside her, his erection grew thicker, longer, and darker. She moaned, arching her back, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her, but once again not quite enough to allow an orgasm. Her feet strained in their cuffs as she futilely attempted to draw her legs together, to add friction and get the release she needed. Her hands rolled and grasped in their cuffs impotent to touch herself where or how she needed. Her body clenched around itself, muscles in her stomach contracting and releasing, followed by brief spasms lower, but still no relief.

She made herself look at the General. He stood stock still, his arms crossed on his chest, hands in fists, his erection thick and protruding, and the anger pulsing from him in time with her heart. He stood there, the very epitome of maleness, some ineffable masculinity radiating off him like an intoxicant. She almost cried out, she almost asked for him to mount her, but bit her own lip instead. He seemed to take that as some kind of cue.

She expected him to pummel her, to use her mercilessly and without regard to her need. Instead he crawled onto the bed and laid with his face in her crotch. He tasted her, his tongue darting out to part her lips before he touched her. Then he drew her apart with his fingers and sucked, her clit and her inner lips. The pressure of his mouth changed the feeling of the vibration and a small orgasm tripped through her. But the insistent beat of the device overwhelmed her again. Then his tongue took a more deliberate swipe, up the length of her from hole to hole, and then concentrating on her clit. The device ramped up again, now sending delicious small impulses of electricity through her, jolting her in counterpoint to the vibration and the General's touches.

It was too much, and she climaxed loudly, crying, and groaning despite her best intentions to be silent. The General was relentless, teasing her with his tongue, his lips, and now his fingers. He plunged two deep inside her, fucking furiously, tapping that favored spot in front, and adding a new sensation. She struggled in her bonds, her legs and arms shaking, her body demanding that she clamp her legs onto the mouth that drew this response from her. Her hips bucked up, into his face, and she felt him laugh, felt the vibration of his breath on her as he responded by slipping a finger into her ass and using it to anchor her to him.

Then the final straw, the final evidence that her Mate had given up all her secrets. When The General withdrew slightly, rolling onto one shoulder, and met her upward thrust with hard, sharp slaps on her mound. When he shut off the device, and pulled another orgasm from her with a quick dose of pain that left her skin reddened and her grunting and breathless. He kept smacking, making her ride the valley after the orgasm into another climax until her whole body shook and she squirted onto his hand.

Only then did the General shift position, laying over her, but not entering her. He waited, poised, propped on his elbows with his hips resting on her pelvis. He waited until her last shudders had subsided, until her breathing slowed, until she was able to open her eyes.

When she did, he leaned down and kissed her. His lips insistent against hers, and his tongue seeking in her mouth. She was too spent to fight, too overwhelmed to do anything other than allow him in. She felt his fingers winding in the remains of her hair, slipping behind her neck, and drawing her to him. Deep in the kiss, almost out of breath, she felt him begin to enter her. His cockhead breached her entrance and slipped in. She was so wet that her body accepted him without struggle.

She was too far gone to pay much attention, but she noted his girth, and the weight of his body on hers. He entered her slowly, settling down on her even as he continued to claim her mouth with his tongue. When he was fully inside her, he stretched out, clasping her hands in their cuffs with both of his.

Then he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead onto hers. She stared at him, her whole body tensing in anticipation. He moved again, drawing one hand down her arm and across her cheek, then wrapping the hand around her neck. His body shifted, his penis sliding out and then seating deeply in her again. His weight shifted further, allowing him to caress her breast, rolling her nipple between thumb and finger. When he shifted back, he pressed both elbows on the bed just above her shoulders.

He kissed her softly again. She trembled under him, her heart pounding and her every sense telling her that this was just a prelude to what the General was about to take from her. He slid his prick out of her, and slipped it back in again, slowly, gently, settling himself on her. He ducked his head, kissing her on the swell of each breast and the just above the sternum post of the metal harness.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark, and she felt the tension in his body, the coiling of his muscles, and stiffness as he held himself back from something. She met his gaze, widening her eyes but holding herself as still as he was. When he started to withdraw from her again, she clenched her vaginal muscles around him and his eyes widened slightly.

Then he slammed into her, grunting loudly and cursing. She grunted in turn; the sound knocked from her lungs with the force of his thrust. He did pummel her, pounding rapidly and deeply into her. His thrust stopped hard by his hips knocking into her thighs. She cried out, half begging him to slow down. Her utterances seemed to drive him more as he shifted his weight to slam into her harder. He unleashed whatever fury was driving him, and she felt the anger propelling him and pushing him to go at her with as much force as he could muster.

Her eyes watered and she arched her back, digging her head into the pillow. Her mouth gaped open as she panted in time with the collision of his body into hers. She tried to pull away from him, but the chains on her ankles and his elbows prevented her. He pounded into her still, the bed creaking and the mattress bouncing as he crashed into her over and over. He grunted and groaned, and occasionally muttered a profanity, but otherwise said nothing to her.

Her body ached from his assault, her breath continually driven from her lungs and her insides both compacted by his weight and stretched by his member within her. Tears welled up in her eyes. He responded by once again increasing his speed, and leaning down to bite her jaw. He held her with his teeth, marking her, and she felt herself giving in to him, giving in to his need. When she looked at him again, her eyes were bleary, and his face was a grimace. His lips curled back and his teeth gritted together, his eyes narrow and his nostrils flared.

He pounded into her, his lust seemingly endless, or renewed as his anger seemed to be, each time he looked at her. She found herself mesmerized, unable to look away from him, even though her fear ratcheted up. When he straightened his arms, changing his angle, and distancing his face from hers, she followed his gaze and maintained the eye contact. She had no thoughts in her head, only her instinct, and her experiences with Him, when He needed her to act as a vessel and nothing more. Pain welled up in her, and not the pleasurable kind of pain that He had nurtured in her. This was pain of endurance, pain of disregard, pain that required her submission, willing or otherwise.

The General over her grunted again, loudly, cried out, and shuddered to a stop. Sweat dripped from his chin and landed on her face. He pulled out of her abruptly, still half hard, and left the room. She heard the shower. She lay, bound in the bed, drenched in her sweat and his, her cum and his beginning to drip out of her, and her tears. She shook, drained, and cold. When he returned to the room a few moments later, he continued his silence. He unhooked her legs so she could draw them closed. He moved her arms to the side of the bed, leaving the bonds clamped together, but allowing her enough slack to make herself comfortable. She drew her legs up, knees almost touching elbows as he clambered into the bed and pulled the sheet and blanket over them both.

Her first sob came as a surprise to her. She'd thought herself done with crying. But maybe the exhaustion that she'd thought drained her emotions caused them instead. Another sob hurtled from her and she bit down on her fist to try to stop it. When the General pulled her into his embrace, wrapping himself around her, she lost all control. She wailed, gasping for air between high pitched keening and deep throated cries. He held her closely, stilling her shaking with his presence and his sheer weight. He held onto her until her bawling subsided, and then simply stroked her hair. He held her silently, until she was calm, as though her reaction was completely expected.

When she was still, he loosened his embrace, but remained behind her, one arm draped over her waist. She fell into an exhausted sleep.

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

The next morning the General took her through the usual routine, and affixed her collar chain to the hoop in the middle of the tent.

"I'm going to be gone all day again today," he said by way of explanation.

He showed her the cooler that contained the premade nutritional beverages. She tried to attend to what he was saying, but she was sore, unsettled, unnerved by what happened the night before, and her reaction afterward.

They sat at the table, and she shivered uncontrollably. She tried to drink. He watched her closely, suddenly rising and going back to his room. She stank of his cum and his sweat, and her own. She craved a shower, but knew the chain wouldn't reach into that compartment. She dared not ask him for that or any other favor. He still looked angry, as though he was anticipating more of whatever had stoked his fury the day before. When he returned with a shirt and a clean blanket she was surprised.

The shirt was an old button up, and surprisingly soft. He tossed it at her, and she slipped it on over her manacles and the chest harness. She buttoned it, and he immediately reached over and unbuttoned it. He left one button, in the middle, nearest her navel, closed. While the shirt didn't help her nerves, the warmth did help her unsettled feeling, and the concern it showed helped calm her.

"My government," the General started, "has decided to attempt to craft a peace treaty with yours." He snorted. "I have no idea why. But that's politics, right?"

He took a long pull on the bottle in front of him. "I fucking hate politics. But I can't escape them now."

He looked at the ceiling of the tent, and then back at her. "Sometimes I think I should have turned this promotion down. But," he leaned forward, and stroked her cheek. "But then, I'd never have been allotted a reward like you if I had."

She'd flinched at his touch and she noted the frown that flashed across his face.

'Please don't let him turning that fucking thing on. I can't take that after what he did last night,' she thought, unsure who she was thinking it to.

He stroked her jaw, turning her head slightly. He ran his thumb over the mottled imprint of his teeth. "I'm sorry," he said. "This was unintentional."

She pulled away from him, staring down at the table, turning the bottle incessantly in her hands.

"Look at me," he said. When she met his gaze he continued, jerking his head toward the front of the tent, indicating the camp outside. "There are still thousands of my soldiers out there. They still want blood. Now, these locks are supposed to be unbreakable, but you should know something. First, this tent is located just about dead center of the camp. Second, that device inside you also tracks your whereabouts. If you were to get too far away from this area, it would run an electrical stimulation program designed to prevent your legs from working. You'd fall to the ground, in agony, and twitching. And nothing would stop it until they dragged me out of my meeting and I was standing over you."

Her eyes had widened, and he nodded, emphasizing the rightness of her concern.

"I'm trusting that you're too smart to do anything so stupid. I'm not going to lock you down to a chair or the bed. I really don't know how long I'll be gone."

He stood, and she watched him leave her once again. He'd left the tablet for her, and she remembered his comment about its access to news. She attempted those programs first, and found only what looked like propaganda. Short videos and articles proclaiming the victories of the forces of the New Gallatian Empire, testimonials from citizens of her country claiming to be happy to have been conquered. Profiles of her former leaders, emphasizing their worst characteristics. She turned the program off, realizing that she'd get nothing useful from it. There was no mention of peace negotiations, or any indication that there was any of her country left to negotiate over.