Message-ID: <16438eli$9810142010@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Theodore@Spoonbender.demon.co.uk (Spoonbender) Subject: ** New Spoonbender - Anthrax (forced masturbation, spy thriller) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: Theodore@Spoonbender.demon.co.uk MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3623a34f.61143632@news.demon.co.uk> Anthrax (forced masturbation, spy thriller) ************************************************ (c) 1998 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains allusions to naughty, erotic goings on. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to be archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. Note that the characterisations are mine. I do not like people stealing them for inclusion in their own efforts. The exception is, of course, Saddam Hussein and you're welcome to him! Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. Thanks to Frederick Forsyth for the inspiration and background detail also thanks to Daine for the excellent Editing This is my first attempt at a spy thriller (with sexual overtones, I might add). Tell me what you think. My email is theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk ********************************************** "You sent for me, Your Excellency?" The scientist tried to still his thundering heart as he stood before the vicious dictator, whose famous chromed pistol gleamed menacingly in its holster. The moustachioed figure, smiling benignly but with a hint of underlying menace, waved airily to a seat before the altar-like desk. "How is the research going?" he asked mildly when the scientist was perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair. "Fine", said Rais, "We have eliminated most of the problems and the new, er, weapon is almost ready for use." "Almost?" The raised eyebrows conveyed a world of horrific terror. The scientist gulped audibly. "The biological weapon itself surpasses our expectations. But we do have a problem with the delivery system." The eyebrows knitted. "The delivery system? Do we not have Al-Abeid?" The scientist was suddenly chillingly aware that he had become one of the few confidants of the existence of the Qa'ala, the fortress in the heart of the hills of Jebal Hamreen above Kifri. The fortress that contained two of the most powerful guns ever to be assembled called the Al-Abeid, the believers. Designed by the legendary Canadian, Gerry Bull, they were each capable of hurling a missile into low space, despite the frantic denials of the CIA and Mossad. Now he officially knew and so he had become inextricably linked to the success of the project. If it failed then he could expect the cold summons from Omar Khatib, the President's much feared Secret Police Chief. It, like many such trips undertaken before by his unfortunate countrymen, would consist of a one way trip to Abu Ghraib, the prison run by the feared AMAM secret Police. A humble but brilliant scientist, like many of his fellow countrymen, he had been developing a new biological weapon so terrifying that he himself woke at night in cold sweats thinking about it. But one that required careful handling. Very careful handling. And this was what was causing him his most concern. If it were not handled right then it could erupt prematurely with catastrophic consequences. Now he struggled to explain, rationally, his problems to someone who only cared about results. He took a deep breath. "When I say the delivery system, I mean the method of transporting the agent from our laboratories out into the field where it is to be used. It requires very careful, and specific handling, or it may cause us serious problems." "What sort of handling?" "For a start it must be kept at body temperature. It must be constantly shaken and every two hours it must be kneaded, like bread, or its consistency will thicken. And with the rise in viscosity will come a corresponding rise in possible explosive failure." "You are working on this problem?" "Of course," said Rais. "We have identified a possible method of transportation. But....." He tailed off lamely. Even he couldn't imagine the President would stoop that low. "But what?" The President was obviously becoming irritated, which didn't bode well for the immediate future. "The only reliable method of transportation that we have identified is, er, inside the vagina of a woman." There, he'd said it. Now he must live with the consequences. The dictator regarded him with dark, staring eyes. "And you are sure this will work?" "Oh yes," said Rais. "Our tests have proved it." "Then I see no problem." "But what about the ...er.. host?" "Ask Omar Khatib. He will have a suitable candidate." He paused, then his face lit up in a rare show of genuine happiness. "Wait, didn't we arrest that American spy last week?" "American spy?" said the puzzled scientist. "The so-called reporter. Snooping around one of my palaces. I think we have found our candidate. I will tell Omar Khatib to make the preparation. You, meanwhile, will ensure that the weapon is ready on time. Do you understand?" The scientist nodded frantically. He understood all right. It would be ready, come what may. *********************************************** Keri-May Wilkins fretted in her cold, dank cell, cursing her bad luck and worrying about the future in equal measure. The newest reporter on the middle east circuit and also one of the brightest, she had graduated summe cum laude in modern languages from a prestigious east coast university. Her proficiency in Arabic, and particularly the dialect of the Marsh Arabs in the south of Iraq, had brought her to the attention of a fast-rising media Baron who could see that Iraq would again become an explosive flash point in the powder keg of the middle east. And who wanted, lusted after, a serious presence on the ground there. So Keri-May found herself working out of the bureau's Rhiyadh office, chafing amongst the paper clips as the men dashed off on glamorous assignments. For her, unlike many other women, her looks were a positive hindrance. A natural blond, with a firm, athletic body and an almost angelic face, she had often got mistaken for one of the corporate bimbos who dropped their panties at the slightest chance of appearing in front of a camera. She called them 'News Screws', which earned her their undying enmity. She shrugged it off, her dynamism being focused elsewhere. So when she heard a couple of Iraqi refugees talking in the local souk oblivious to the fact that she may actually understand their language, she decided to approach her bureau chief, with a view to being sent on a special assignment into the heart of Iraq. To find the place where the chemical weapons were being stored, away from the prying eyes of the UN Weapons Inspectors. "It's too dangerous," was his, not entirely unexpected, reply. "But Wally, this could give us the break we need. We could show those CNN guys that we mean business." He considered it for a moment, fingers steepled in front of his lips. "Okay, I'll send Greg Hoskins." "Greg Hoskins! Why? It's my story." "I told you it's too dangerous for you." "Because I'm a woman, right? That's bullshit, Wally, and you know it. It's my story and I want to cover it." The bureau chief looked across at her. Her eyes glinted with the ferocity of a cornered feral cat. She had the determination, that was for sure. "It's not that. Well, not entirely. It's just that I can't cover you when you're there. Greg looks like an Ayrab for Chrissakes, which you obviously don't." "Look, Wally, the best camouflage is to be out in the open. They'd hardly expect a blond blue eyed spy now would they? Anyway women have more methods of escaping detection than men have." "How so?" "Well, we can wear the Chador for a start, that covers us from head to toe so no-one can see us. Furthermore everyone takes it for granted. And my Arabic is perfect, as you well know. Finally I can get more information out of a man within an hour than Greg Hoskins could in a lifetime." Wally had to concede that point. She was extraordinarily adept at extracting information from the most intractable source. Perhaps it was her bimbo looks that disarmed them. That, plus a first-class brain. He mulled it over in his mind, then tried one last time to dissuade her. "Look, Keri-May, I understand how you feel, but this sort of assignment is dangerous. I can't give you any support, except from casuals in country and the Lord knows how reliable they'd be in a crisis. The State department would deny all knowledge of it. You'd be on your own, in a hostile country where they'd all get a pat on the back, and extra rations for their kids, for turning in an American spy. I wouldn't like to send an experienced reporter into that lot, never mind someone who has only recently joined. It's too risky, surely you can see that?" "Oh come on, Wally. Stop treating me like a child, I knew what I was getting into when I came here. You get me good ID and I'll be fine." Slowly, over the course of the next hour, she wore him down, the possibility of a Pulitzer finally winning him over. The amazing thing was that she had found the dump within a week of being there. She wasn't averse to a roll in the hay to further her career which, coupled with the fact that the Officer from Tikrit was absolutely smitten with her, gave her the lead she needed. Her problems started when she was caught trying to take photographs of the compound in which they were stored. The soldiers had been rough, but not brutal and she hadn't, to her great surprise and relief, been sexually assaulted apart from the occasional fondled breast and pat on the rear, of which she'd endured far worse in her office. Reporting sure dulled the threshold level on her reaction to physical abuse, she surmised. The worst part was the mind-numbing boredom of the prison. For someone of her intellect it was the worst form of cruelty, being taken away from all forms of intellectual stimuli and forced to exist in a cold, heartless cell. With just the murmurs and occasional screams of the other prisoners for company. And so it was with a curious mixture of longing and dread that she heard the key turning in the lock of her cell door. The guard was new and dressed in a uniform she hadn't seen before. "Yallah!" he shouted and jerked his thumb along the corridor. "What's the rush?" she replied in perfect Arabic. He smiled, revealing a mess of Qat stained teeth. "A clever spy heh? But you got caught so maybe you're not so clever. Now, come on, the director is waiting." He hustled her along the corridor, past the bleak row of identical steel doors behind which terrified citizens huddled in dread. Instead of going down to the interrogation rooms that she knew so well, they ascended to the first floor. The guard paused at a plain steel door and tapped respectfully. He then ushered her inside. The laboratory was unexpected in its cleanliness. She looked around at the array of stainless steel instruments in cabinets around the wall, then her attention was drawn to the chair in the centre of the room. It looked like the gynaecological chair she'd had to endure when she thought she'd picked up a dose of something nasty at college. But this one had straps hung around it menacingly and suddenly she was afraid. The scientist darted towards her. "Excellent," he said. "Hook her up so I may get to work." Keri-May was unceremoniously stripped by two matrons, who employed an economy of effort that bespoke long practise. When she was naked she was hustled over to the chair, blushingly conscious of the lustful grins of the prison guards that stood in the room. Once she was strapped into place the scientist approached. He looked sadly at her, his inner self obviously at odds with what he was being forced to do. "I must insert something into you," he told her, almost apologetically. "Please keep still, I will try not to hurt you." "Please," she wailed, as he picked up a long, thick rubber canister from which wires protruded ominously. "Please don't. Why are you doing this?" He shrugged. "I'm sorry, it is most unfortunate, but I must obey my orders. I hope you understand." He then proceeded to lubricate the canister with a thick layer of what looked like KY jelly. Keri-May watched in fascinated terror as he approached her wide-open pussy. He paused for a second, then proceeded to push it slowly into her. She wriggled unconsciously as she felt the canister slide into her. To her surprise it was warm and if she had closed her eyes, she could have imagined it as being the penis of one of her lovers sliding pleasantly into her inner self. She groaned slightly, despite her best efforts at self control, as the 'thing' slid further in and the guards chuckled. The scientist stopped and admonished them then continued to force it into her until it was completely buried inside. He then took a small tool and applied it to a hidden screw-head at the base of the unit. A single twist and she felt the top of the device balloon outwards until it was jammed immovably inside her. The scientist tried tugging it gently and, satisfied that it couldn't be removed without the aid of the tool, he stood back and wiped his hands. Keri-may continued to wriggle at the unwelcome intrusion. It wasn't that it was painful, but it was so embarrassingly intrusive that it humiliated her. It was pushed so deep that she could barely feel it, in a sexual way, but the dangling wires, akin to the strings on a tampon, reminded her and her watchers of its presence within her. "What is it? Please tell me," she pleaded. "It is... ah ... a poison capsule," he replied, simply. "Poison?" Now the tears started to pool in her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" "Hush, dear," he said mildly. "And listen. I have placed the container inside you so it can be used to transport a certain, how shall I put it, er, weapon to the front line. This weapon requires special handling, which you have been chosen to administer. There are no choices in this. You have no choice and neither do I. Do you understand me?" She nodded. She thought she understood but was unprepared for what followed. "In order to ensure that the agent remains in a usable condition you must knead the vessel every couple of hours or so. There is a sensor fitted inside the vessel which will sound when the treatment is required, so you will be warned. The kneading must be rigorous and thorough, which can only be achieved, our tests have concluded, by you having a rigorous orgasm." "What?" she exclaimed tearfully. "I thought I had explained it adequately." He continued patiently. "You must induce an orgasm every two hours or so or I cannot be held responsible for the consequences." "Every two hours, but what about my sleep?" "Your guards have been trained to, as you Americans so aptly put it, bring you off whenever they hear the warning." "But what if I don't want to? Or I can't?" "Oh, but you must. I must stress the danger you are in if you don't. The vessel may rupture and you will die. It will not be a pleasant death. Do you understand?" She closed her eyes trying to will away the horror and her body involuntarily tried to force the container out from her, but it was held firmly in place and her efforts barely shifted it. He studied her for a second, then continued. "I will help you." With that he turned and picked up a hypodermic from an instrument tray then proceeded to draw a colourless liquid into it from a small bottle. She flinched as he approached with it. "Relax, my dear. This will help you. It is a powerful aphrodisiac that will induce a prodigiously enhanced sense of sexual excitement in you. It will help you to fulfil your task." She cried as the liquid was forced into her arm. He dabbed the needle mark carefully and looked down on her. "May the blessings of Allah go with you and may his benevolence guide you in your forthcoming trial." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, followed by the matrons, leaving her alone with the two grinning guards. "It is time to see if the drug is working, Ali," laughed one of them as he approached her helplessly bound body, his finger flexing theatrically. ************************************************* Avi Mehandin leaned forward in the rickety chair as his case officer explained the problem to him. Lean and rangy, he looked like a typical street Arab that is likely to be found idling slowly through any middle eastern town, which suited him and his bosses perfectly. He was one of Mossad's deep cover assets in Iraq and had been instrumental in providing much of the information regarding Saddam's intentions towards the west and Israel in particular. The case officer had met him, at great personal risk to both men, at a small coffee shop the Agency owned in a village close to the Jordanian border. Now they sat, two itinerant Arabs, sipping their mint tea and resting away from the sunshine, a scene repeated countless times across the area and unlikely to arouse suspicion. "We know that he has developed something new, which he is intending to target on us. What it is we are not so sure about, but, put it this way, I've moved my family from Tel Aviv. We also know that he has some new type of delivery system. We know its not the Scuds. We know where they are and we also know that most of them are out of commission. For a while we thought he might have bought some Nadong Missiles from North Korea, but we can't find any evidence of them being transhipped. Which leads us with one alternative and that is a super gun of some kind. Now we heard, from one of our agents in England, that an engineering company there had been receiving orders for, what could only be, gun barrels. We, together with MI5, allowed them to be shipped and we followed closely. Unfortunately we lost track of them when one of our agents was compromised in the docks. So where they've gone is anybody's guess. That was three months ago, since then we've heard nothing. Then we heard of an avalanche in the Jebal Hamreen hills, which killed a group of construction workers. Not one of them escaped. That sounded extremely convenient to us, so we suspect that that is where the guns have been assembled and he's covering his tracks. We managed to get some satellite time from the Americans but we've found nothing of substance. Which is where you come in. We want you to find them and call up an air-strike to take them out." The case officer leaned forward and continued. "I need not stress to you the urgency of this mission." Avi lowered his hawk-like eyes, to hide his intense anger at this new threat to the peace and security of his homeland. "Give me the means and I will do the job," he said simply. ***************************************************** Keri-May's fingers diddled her clit frantically as she tried to coax an unwanted, but crucial orgasm from her unwilling body. It had been twelve hours since she had been given the injection and it still hadn't kicked in like the doctor had promised. As she twirled her fingers and mauled her breasts she was aware of the strident screeching that came from her crotch that signalled that she must massage the container as if her life depended on it, which it patently did. Just as she started to climb her heights the door flew open and two of the guards stepped into the room followed by an unknown officer, whose lip curled in disdain at her lewd display. Her hands automatically stopped and went to cover her crotch and breasts protectively. They were all frozen in a silent tableau, while the screaming from her crotch continued unabated. "You must fuck yourself, American whore. Or we'll do it for you," sneered one of the guards, as the officer continued to stare at her. Lost in a haze of humiliation, her fingers again started their work while the officer calmly pulled out a cigarette. Perched comfortable on the rickety table he watched as she forced herself towards her humiliating orgasm. She closed her eyes to shut out the scene, but the ribald comments and the slow, forceful exhalations from the officer intruded on her senses. It was the hardest cum of her life to achieve, as her body fought against her instincts. But eventually, and to her great relief, she exploded into a welter of whimpering, sweating convulsions as the eagerly sought orgasm raced through her. After she had subsided she opened her eyes to find the men watching her in amused contempt. She wished she could have crawled into a hole and died. "Get her up," snapped the Officer. "Dress her and bring her to the truck." He then turned on his heel and walked out. They put her in a simple dress that barely covered her crotch. It was grey and shapeless through uncounted washings and did little to assist in protecting her modesty. Its main benefit, from her captor's point of view, was that it allowed unhindered access to her pussy. Which meant that they could force her into having orgasms whether she co-operated or not. The word had gone round, their continued well-being and that of most of the people in the country depended on her achieving her cums. And they weren't going to let a little thing like her willing participation stand in the way of their personal safety. Just before she was taken from the cell one of the guards injected her again. "It is the catalyst for the previous injection." He said to her unspoken query. "The scientist said you would understand what that means." She understood all right. The almost immediate tingling in her crotch signalled the start of a new life. As a cum-crazed slut. ************************************************** Avi slipped back into Baghdad later that evening. Leaving his Land Cruiser out in the Desert he took an ordinary bus back to the city, so as to not arouse suspicion. His first call was on a technician he had compromised earlier in the year. He knew that his visit could possibly destroy the asset, but time was not on his side. It threw up an interesting fact. He followed up on it, which led him in turn to a certain Colonel Rashid of the Imperial Guards. He had left town over six months ago and no-one had known where he had gone. But, suddenly he had re-appeared. A loquacious soldier had furnished the further fact that he was leaving again tonight. Avi waited on the Old Damascus road for the Colonel to appear. It was nearly dusk as he saw the small convoy approaching. He squatted down in the dust and waited for them to go by. He had been in this game a long time and he thought nothing could surprise him. But the glimpse of a semi-naked blond girl chained up and fondled by a group of laughing soldiers widened his eyes a little. His first thought was that she formed part of the Rest and Recreation package that Saddam had put together for his lonely troops. But if they were that lonely why weren't they giving it to her, there and then, instead of just playing with her? He waited for an hour, then started up his Land Cruiser and went to follow. ************************************************ The journey itself, along a road pitted with potholes, was bad enough, but the almost continuous fondling nearly drove her out of her mind. They had chained her standing, with her legs spread and her hands tied above her in the bouncing truck. Then they took it in turns to fondle her in every way imaginable, while she stood there in lustful shame. She knew she couldn't do anything about her hyper-aroused state but it still shamed her nevertheless, as they forced yet another writhing orgasm from her. Worse, they had taken bets on who could make her come the quickest and so she had to not just endure the fondling, but also the shouts and coarse laughter as they worked her body with abandon. As the journey ground on, the soldiers seemed to start to lose interest in her and, as dusk fell, they rolled themselves in blankets between the ammunition cases and fell asleep. At first she was pleased with a cessation of the continuous mauling but then, with mounting horror, she started to feel her crotch get tingly again. She endured for two hours, willing herself to ignore the urgency of her crotch, but then the alarm went off and she realised the predicament she was in. She had to cum, her life depended on it, but how? She started to call softly, but they ignored her. She tried calling louder, but still they snored on. Eventually the alarm itself provided the answer. Its raucous screech awoke one of the men who, grumbling sleepily, reached up and unlocked the handcuff that was holding one of her arms high. He then settled down to sleep again. At first she was dazed then it slowly dawned on her what she was expected to do. They weren't going to masturbate her. She was expected to do it herself. With a moan she reached down towards her tortured crotch. This was going to be a long night. ************************************************** Avi nearly stumbled upon the convoy as he followed cautiously behind. They had ascended into a range of foothills, where the track was rocky and barely discernible. He had breasted a rise to see the campfires of the troops twinkling in the distance. He found a convenient gully and hid the Land Cruiser as best he could. Removing his Uzi he started to make his way towards the campfires on foot. ************************************************* The men in the truck awoke to the delicious sight of a beautiful and half naked young woman masturbating herself furiously. Her hand kept up a steady pumping motion as her fingers massaged and stroked. Each of them had dreamed about a girl like this. And now she was here. Making herself cum in front of their eyes. It was better than any floor show they had ever heard about, because here, they knew she wasn't faking. She came, bucking her hips wildly and oblivious to their presence, just as the trucks pulled up. They drew themselves away from the girl who hung limply in her bonds. All night long she had been forced to masturbate herself. For every two hours she had been awakened and had had to do it again. Eventually she was so tired, as the result of her mistreatment and the number of good cums she'd had, she starting doing it in her sleep. She stood there, straddled, her head lolling on her chest as her fingers played lazily with her clit. Her cums were muted, but strong enough to achieve the desired effect. It was dawn by the time they eventually took her down from the truck. She didn't know which had disorientated her more, the use of her limbs again or the fact that she had been forced to remove her hand from her crotch. Finally she stood before them. The officer came up beside her and turned to address the men. "I cannot stress how important this package is. I do not want it to be damaged. Therefore you will not fuck this girl, in any way, including oral sex. At least until the package has been safely delivered. At which point her usefulness in her present capacity is over and she could be made available for more general duties. I hope I am making myself clear?" He was. He nodded. "Good. Now I don't want the column held up because of having to service some whore, and so our scientists have come up with an ingenious solution." He held up a high-tech chastity belt. The men cheered as he fitted it over her and connected the wires to the unit inside. He then picked up a large battery pack and solar charger unit and slung it over her shoulders like a rucksack. Finally he pulled her arms back and tied them together behind the batteries. He then flicked a switch. "Right, men, we have a long way to go before nightfall, let's move out." They left the temporary camp and struck off into the hills. Keri-May stumbled miserably along behind them, a young goat herd teasing her naked thighs with a switch. That was hours ago. Since then the climb had been a nightmare for her. The batteries were heavy, the trail was steep and rocky and the chastity belt kept molesting her. Now, instead of the raucous scream it merely set off a vibration unit which hummed and rubbed between her legs. Such was its power and movement, that it had her cumming within a minute or so of being activated. She remembered the first time with shame. The goatboy had tucked the back of her dress under the rucksack and was urging her on with the occasional stinging stripe across her bare bottom. The combination of his casualness and her nakedness hurt her worse than the bites, but they achieved their purpose as she stumbled on blindly. Then, just when she thought things couldn't get worse, she felt the unit kick into life and immediately she started to get hot and tingly down there. Her steps faltered as her climax started to grow and the boy was forced to lay into her naked and defenceless bottom hard in order to get her to move at all. Finally she was walking bow legged, wishing desperately that she had the use of her hands to help her orgasm along. When it hit, she stopped walking and no amount of thrashing could make her move again, as her climax soared. The combination of the searing stripes and the firm, purposeful vibrations caused her to climb higher than she had ever done in her life. And so it was, that she had the most explosive orgasm of her entire life whilst bent over with her legs apart, with a goat herd swiping her butt and a vibrator massaging her clit vigorously. Some of the soldiers came back to see what the hold up was and were fascinated as she flew like an eagle. Her screams of pleasure bouncing around the narrow gorge then echoing back to torment her, with her lewd, abandoned display of hedonistic pleasure. When the orgasm finally hit, in full force, she stretched her neck back and howled like a beaten dog. She stiffened her whole body and her crotch rotated in small bucking circles as if she was entertaining a real lover between her athletic legs. When it was over she slumped and it was only the prompt action of one of the guards catching her arms that prevented her from falling over. It was as if the orgasm itself had been her only means of support and now that it was over she was bereft of enough power to maintain her posture. "What's happening?" the officer said angrily as he strode back. "She was having an orgasm, Sir." The Officer looked at her, wild eyed and rubber legged, then smirked slightly. He was going to enjoy handing her over to the men. But now they must move on. "Get the whore moving," he ordered and turning on his heel, he marched away. It took nearly a minute of frantic thrashing before she could move again. And in a little under two hours it was going to happen again. ******************************************************* Avi had watched the display with amazement. He thought he'd seen everything that life had to offer, but the sight of a half naked beauty having an earth shattering orgasm on a rocky hillside arrested him in his tracks. As surely as a sniper's bullet. "What on earth was going on here?" he asked himself. He crouched, waiting, until she had recovered enough of her composure to shamble off again. He then followed, discretely at a distance. It was indeed fortunate that the Iraqis were so lax when it came to military discipline. This was far easier than the Be'qaa valley. ************************************************* Eventually they had to assign two guards to her, to help her on her way. The repeated orgasms had a cumulative effect of her bone-tired body and she was barely able to walk at all. So the guards held her arms and hustled her forward. It was then that she learned about having orgasms on the march as they wouldn't let her stop to savour the ecstasy, but instead kept her moving forward while her head lolled drunkenly and her crotch exploded. ************************************************** Keri-May lay half comatose on the floor of the small cinderblock storage shed. The enforced march and her numbing orgasms had sapped her very will and she ended up drifting in and out of consciousness like a wraith. But despite her privations and the terrible drain on her inner resources her body still felt tingly and alive. Especially in the junction between her legs. They had arrived just before dusk after enduring the searing heat blasting off the rocks as they climbed deeper into the pitiless mountains, through countless narrow gorges. She'd been fed, barely, on a few scraps and had been thrust into the storage shed with only an earthenware pitcher of water for company. It was sheer laziness, she surmised, that stopped them from removing the vibrator from her crotch. It was just as well as she couldn't summon up the energy to masturbate herself enough for the sort of orgasm that would keep the poison alive inside her body. It took all of her remaining resources to lie there and immerse herself in her cums. In that she had no choice as her body and the capsule both demanded that she fulfilled herself repeatedly. Her boredom had vanished and in its place was an overwhelming lethargy that bordered on unconsciousness. Gone was the bright articulate reporter and in her place there was a sexually frustrated bimbo who appeared to be kept alive purely by the longing for yet another cum. She whimpered in lust and hopeless humiliation as the vibrator set to work again, deep down in the confluence of her legs. ************************************************** Avi crouched in the lee of two large rocks as he adjusted the collapsible satellite antennae. He had pulled a sand coloured net over his upper body to help provide him with camouflage and to nullify any glints of reflected light that may come from his equipment. Finally he was ready. "Dove calling Mount. Are you receiving me? Over." A slight hiss as the squelch kicked in was followed by, "Mount receiving you, over." "Co-ordinates follow." He then proceeded to read out the map references of the site. The base followed through by reading them back which he acknowledged then dismantled his set. He'd already set his laser guides so now all he could do was wait. **************************************************** The bombers streaked in just before dawn, jinking and weaving along the steep valleys as they hove in for their attack run. The Iraqi's were taken momentarily by surprise by the scream of the jets but soon recovered and ran towards the carefully concealed AA guns. Meanwhile the radars lit the ether up like Christmas tree lights. Avi waited until the crump of the first descending bomb before he made his move. He was confident that the laser sources that he had laid amongst the buildings and, more importantly, the guns themselves would guide their charges to the sweet spots of destruction. Normally, in this type of raid, he would have been long gone by the time the bombers were called in. But there was something about that girl that intrigued him and he was determined to find out what role she had to play in the events here. So he dashed across the ground, crouching low, as the bombs started to smash into the ground around him. The Iraqis were far too absorbed in protecting both their lives and the guns to notice his silently flitting shadow making its way towards the grey block house that held the pretty young lady captive. Once he reached it he smashed open the lock with the butt of his gun and crept inside. She lay huddled against the far wall her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Do you speak English?" he whispered. She nodded dully. "Good, lets get out of here then. I think the Iraqis are not going to be too pleased once they get chance to sit down and work out what has happened and, more to the point, how." With that he stepped across and hauled her to her feet. She felt surprisingly heavy and then he noticed the heavy haversack on her back. A large knife appeared in his hand like magic and he severed the straps as she murmured, "No, no." The wires linking the unit to her crotch still held her back so he cut those too and then pulled her towards the door. A quick glance outside confirmed that no-one was taking any notice of the blockhouse as they dashed around the encampment, their figures silhouetted by the flames. He pulled the stumbling girl after him as he made his way out of the camp as fast as he could. He didn't want to be around once this raid was over. She whimpered as she forced her leaden legs to move. And her crotch tingled. ***************************************************** An hour later they found themselves in a narrow ravine just below the skyline, just as the sun started to make its presence known over the horizon. Considering her lack of energy they were making surprisingly good time, but he still wanted to put as many miles as he could between them and the undoubtedly pursuing and vengeful Iraqis. He knew Saddam of old and he didn't want to become a guest of him and his tame torturer. He knew too much. Suddenly the girl stopped and no amount of pulling would urge her to move on. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled angrily as she reached for her crotch. "I...ah...must cum," she whispered. "Lady, there is a time and a place for everything and this isn't it," he retorted. "I must. I must," she mumbled as started to diddle herself. He stepped forward and tried to pull her hands away but she fought him with a burst of frantic energy that startled him. So, seething with anger, he let her get on with it. An emotionless man he may have been. Tough, resolute and extremely dangerous but he was still a man. And the sight of a beautiful woman, her body gleaming softly in the rays of the new sun, cresting the waves of an obviously powerful orgasm caused his breath to quicken as the old familiar feeling grew in his crotch. They both squatted facing each other, he, resting with his hands tightly gripping the muzzle of his Uzi and she, with wide open legs and a hand delving under her short dress. After what seemed like hours but was in fact a minute or two she threw her head back, eyes tightly closed, as she soared to the sky. Finally it was over and she slumped onto her knees her head bent in submission. He waited until she got her breath back and then asked. "What was that all about?" "I must orgasm every two hours," she whispered, her shame colouring her cheeks prettily. "Why?" So she told him. His eyes grew hard and his mouth tightened grimly as she finished her tale. A quick swig at his water bottle and they were off again. Was it his imagination or was that a dog pack he heard echoing down the valley? **************************************************** They rested up in a small cave to escape the worst of the midday heat. He looked tenderly down at her, like a father looking sat his new born daughter, as she dozed. She looked so innocent lying there, her features slack with overwhelming fatigue. Suddenly the alarm sounded and she tried to move her hand towards her crotch. But she didn't have the strength. Avi carefully moved her hand away and gently eased open her legs. He then started to masturbate her. He thought he heard her whisper 'thank you' as his fingers worked but it was so quiet that it could just have been the sound of her breathless panting as she neared her climax. *************************************************** They crossed over into Jordan three days later with half the Iraqi army hard on their heels. Once safely across Israeli agents spirited them away and they found themselves in Jerusalem the following day. She was whisked away to hospital and he was debriefed by his commander. Everywhere there were beams and smiles and slaps on the back. They told him that she must be airlifted out to the Centre for Contagious Diseases in Atlanta to remove the capsule as the facilities in Israel were not up to the delicate task of both removing the tube and neutralising the poison. So he found himself sitting next to her on the C130 as it clawed its way into the air from Ben Gurion. He took over her masturbation duties as they lolled in amongst the packing cases. She smiled and willingly spread her body when the alarm went off. In between they chatted and touched like lovelorn teenagers. For such a long flight it was over surprisingly quickly for them. ****************************************************** The package was removed from her two days later. But they were unable to provide an antidote to the aphrodisiac. That night she and Avi went to a small restaurant and afterwards they conjugated their relationship between the cool sheets of her downtown hotel. His hard body yielded up so much pleasure that she was able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. ***************************************************** Threats to his homeland continued apace and before long he was discretely advised to take over his responsibilities again. So it was a hard time for both of them when he was recalled to his homeland. They clung together at the airport, promising to keep in touch for ever. But they both knew, deep down, that it was over. The nature and uncertainty of his work was the severance inevitable. She sat in the departure area and howled for over an hour when he had gone. *************************************************** Keri-may became an instant celebrity and was soon fronting her own news show on prime time television with a salary that exceeded her telephone number. She was particularly popular during marathon news sessions. It was obvious to even the most jaded viewer that she was hot to trot. The flush on her cheeks, her squirming posture, her panting recitation, her glazed expression. It all added up to one hot bimbo. The viewers, especially the males, just couldn't get enough of her. And her ratings soared. And best of all she was allowed to move into the marine barracks. Where morale suddenly soared. So there is a heaven after hell, after all. ***************************************************** Does anybody want to continue with tales about Keri-may? I give you my permission to use any of the characters that are contained in this story. All I ask is that you acknowledge that the characters are mine, Spoonbender's, when you write your story. And that they originated in this story. Thanks. TS -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----