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Authors: Cara Layton

Forced to Submit

BOOK: Forced to Submit
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Davin’s luminous
green eyes scanned the noisy, humid shack where he and his buddies often drank
the nights away.  The familiar group was as loud and boisterous as ever.  Glasses
clanked and clattered.  The light foam from the tops of their beers sloshed every
which way, causing the entire make-shift bar to be eternally coated by a stale,
sticky layer.  Between that and the musky smell of men fresh from the front
lines, the place affectionately called ‘The Hole’ certainly lived up to its
name.

A pretty
young woman, dressed in a tight corset and an ill-fitting hoop skirt, sauntered
up to Davin with a tipsy stagger.  She rested her hand on his shoulder and took
a deep puff of her short cigarette.

“Hey
soldier,” she hollered over the din, “how was it today?”

Davin
knocked back the last half of his warm beer and slammed it down onto the
counter.  The white foam stuck to his stubbly upper lip, prompting the woman to
reach out and flick it away with her finger.

The women
that littered the gathering place were there for, as the brass put it,
“morale”.  Of course anyone would have known that they were basically hookers
on the government’s dole, not that any of the men minded.

In fact,
“morale” had never been higher.

“Not
tonight, Sandy.”

She
frowned and tossed aside her spent smoke.

“Oh come
on honey,” her hand slipped down over his shoulder and onto his tight chest,
“what’s bothering you?”

The
twang of hard liquor followed her hot breath as it rolled past Davin’s ear and
down onto his shoulder.  He sighed and turned on the barstool where he was
seated.  The corners of his pouty lips were locked in a firmly straight line.

“All of
this,” he swept his hand around quickly, “all of this shit.”

The
tipsy prostitute grabbed his wrist.

“Let’s
go.  We can talk.”

Davin didn’t
fight back as she led him past tables full of dirty, ragged-looking men with
more alcohol in them than sense.

The long
hallway that contained all of the girls’ rooms was just as dirty and stale as
the rest of the decrepit building.  It’s biggest saving-grace was that it was
cool; free from the sticky body heat that was eternally present in the main
drinking hall.

Sandy’s
room was the last one on the right, hidden by only a faded floral sheet that
she threw to the side with what almost looked like contempt.  Inside of the
tiny room were a creaky old bed and a solitary, nearly empty dresser that was
missing all but one of its brass handles.  In the corner, near the window, was
a chair with peeling white paint flaking off of its legs.  Sandy flopped down onto
the bed and motioned for Davin to sit.

“How
long have you been here, soldier?”

She lit
up another cigarette as he lowered himself down onto the dubiously-stable
chair.

“It’s
been over a year,” he sighed and rubbed his forehead, “and there is no end in sight.”

Sandy
leaned forward on the bed, her already buxom cleavage nearly spilling out of
her top, and tapped the ashes down onto the wooden floor.

Davin
continued, “I’m thinking about volunteering for a black-bar spot.”

“No,”
Sandy shook her head, “you know as well as I do that nobody ever comes back
from those missions.  It’s like trying to use a shotgun to fish in the ocean. 
What good does sending men in blind do, huh?”

She was
becoming visibly agitated.

“I see
all of these men run off for those missions, thinking that they will be some
kind of savior.”  She threw her cigarette onto the ground and smashed it with
her foot, sending embers flying in every direction.  Her pale brow was furrowed
and a trickle of smoke leaked out of her mouth as she spoke, “There ain’t no
savior in this situation.”

Davin
rested his elbows on his knees, “I guess.”

His eyes
wandered over her curvy body.  Even in the heat of war there were some things
that a man just needed, including sex.  As his sight swept across her collar bones
and down over the rounded mountains that were perched on her chest, his cock
started to twinge and rise.

Sandy
could see the look in his eyes.  She stood up from her bed, reached behind her
waist, and unhooked the top loop of her billowy skirt.  The garment fell to the
floor at her feet, leaving her in only her corset and a thin pair of panties.

Davin
looked over her body once again but said nothing.  After a long silence, Sandy
shifted her weight onto her right leg, forcing out the smooth curve of her lace-laden
hip.

“Well?”

“Well
what?”

She
licked her rouge-stained lips.

“Well do
you want to get fucked before you,” she cleared her throat, “before you really
get fucked?”

The
swollen erection in Davin’s pants gave an obvious answer.  For a moment he was
taken aback by its solid persistence in spite of everything that was waiting
for him the next day.

“What
the hell,” he muttered and stood up slowly, “maybe a little pick-me-up would do
some good.”

Sandy
took his by the hand and pulled him in close to her.

“That’s
the spirit.”

She
reached down to his thick bulge and squeezed, releasing a swirling flurry of
tingling throughout his fit body.  The sensation made him almost feel like he
was melting into her touch.  Over the top of the rock-hard pinnacle, the crotch
of his denim had grown uncomfortably tight.

As if
coming to the rescue, Sandy deftly unbuttoned his fly and allowed the throbbing
pole to spill out into her petite hands.  She immediately began to stroke it,
moving slowly at first.

Davin
groaned and wedged his hand between the tight corset and her undulating
breasts, where he found one of her already hardened nipples.  He closed his
eyes and toyed with her as she did the same for him.

Within
minutes of groping each other, the pair had stripped down to nothing but bare
skin.  Their movements were frantic, sending clothing flying every which way.

Once
naked, Sandy ran her hands through her copper locks and smirked before shoving
Davin back onto her tiny bed.  The ancient springs creaked menacingly under the
weight as she crawled up over him.  She stopped only once her already moist
folds were rested on the slight curve of Davin’s shaft.

“Here,”
she said as she pulled a condom out from under her pillow.

Davin
quickly grabbed it, tore it open and rolled it down over himself.  Within
moments of securing the rubber, Sandy lowered her body down onto his rock-hard
member.  She immediately started to bounce up and down, her moans growing with
each pass.  Davin reached out to her swaying breasts and gripped them tightly.

After a
few minutes, Sandy leaned over and pressed her tits against his face.  He
grabbed each one and took turns licking her perky, large nipples.

“Wait,”
he said to her.

She
sighed, “What?”

Davin
shoved her off of him and onto the bed.

“Bend
over.”

Sandy
bit her lip and moaned softly as she took up a position on all fours.  Davin
was right behind her and shoved his cock into her channel right away.  He
forced the top half of her body down onto the bed, pinning her right where he
wanted.

Without
mercy he pounded into her until he felt the familiar twinge of an orgasm
looming.  He curled his fingers against the soft skin on her back and slapped
inside of her a few more times before his dick exploded his hot seed into the
rubber.

As he
watched the prostitute climb up from the bed and start to dress again, he
couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing.  The sensation was a
welcome one, however, as it served to strengthen his resolve to accomplish the
impossible.

Once
both of them dressed, Sandy took out another cigarette and offered one to him.

“Oh,” he
waved his hand, “no.  I know how much those things cost.”

Sandy sipped
one out of the plain white package and forced it between his lips.

“Don’t
worry.”  She was regarding him like a man on the way to be hanged, “It’s the
least that I could do.”

---

Dawn
broke over the expansive camp in a fiery fashion, but Davin was already awake
and particularly un-phased by the spectacle.  His sleep the night before had
been restless.  There was little that one could do to prepare for the mission
that he was about to undertake.

A
“black-bar mission”- as it was called by the soldiers -was operated on a
volunteer-only basis.  Nobody knew for sure what exactly happened; only that
none of the volunteers ever came back.  The assignments were billed as the
saving grace for the Alliance powers: heroic missions that could lead to the
nation’s triumph, if only just one man were to succeed.

But it
wasn’t a desire for fame or redemption that led Davin to step up to the
challenge.  He had been serving on the front lines for a long time, but he had
suffered under the effects of a nation at war for almost all of his life. 
Then, one day after coming back to his tent and kicking off the worn boots that
were barely held together, he realized that enough was enough.

It was
time for him to do his part to end the conflict, whether he survived or not.

Just
after breakfast in his tent, one of the captains poked his head inside and
regarded him from behind a wide pair of sunglasses.

“It’s
time to go, soldier.”

“Yessir,”
he stood up and absentmindedly dusted off his gray shirt, “let’s do it.”

Davin
left behind all of his earthly possessions, however few there were, and was
deposited near enemy lines as twilight began to set in.  He was instructed to
make his way into the main city of Kabarash, where he would get as close as
possible to the enemy leader.  Once there, he had six bullets; six chances to
make the shot.

The
dividing line between the two groups was fertile and lush, fed by the ancient
river that had flowed through the area for generations.  On each side of its
banks were ferns, trees and moss that extended as far as the eye could see. 
Davin had only heard rumors of the area before and it almost felt un-real for
him to actually be standing there; to see it with his own eyes.

He knelt
down into a tall patch of foliage and looked across the muddy waters with a
small pair of binoculars.  There was no movement.  The air around him was
silent and still.  Not even the birds dared to enter the area anymore.

For the
rest of the evening he stayed in position, waiting until the night fell before
beginning his trek across the icy river and up the steep bank.  His boots
slipped in the sticky mud as he trudged up the hill, trying his best to move
quietly.

Once he
had reached the top, he went back down onto one knee and looked out over the
enemy turf with his binoculars.  Far in the distance, a glowing orb of light
over the capitol city of Kabarash shone into the black night sky.  The mere
sight made Davin’s heart race.  Few people had gone far enough to actually see
the city with their own eyes and, of those that did, none of them had ever
returned to tell the tale.

He
lowered the binoculars down and shoved them into the small pouch that was slung
over his shoulder, contemplating what his next move should be.

It was
then that a swift, hard blow fell on to the back of his head with a sickening
crack.  The world around him went dark almost instantly.

---

Davin
awoke to a flood of icy water being thrown in his face.  He jumped up
dramatically but was kept next to the wall by the shackles that attacked his
wrists to it.

“What
the hell?”

Whoever
hit him had also taken the liberty of stripping him completely naked, allowing
the water to flow over him.  His large nipples instantly hardened and started
to prickle.  Small goose bumps formed everywhere that the liquid touched.  Even
the flesh covering his flaccid cock tingled.

“Who is
there?”  He demanded.

Near the
back corner of the barren room, a deep voice echoed out from the darkness.

“Well,
well, well.  Look who finally decided to join us.”

Davin
pulled on the restraints with all that he had but they didn’t budge.

“Let me
go now!”

The man
just laughed and took a few steps forward, allowing Davin to get a good look at
him.  Only a few feet behind was another man, though he was quite a bit
shorter.  Both of them were dressed in matching olive uniforms.  The one in
front held a long, sheathed sword in his hands.

“Do you
know who I am?”

Davin
scowled, “How would I know?”

The big
man laughed, “Exactly!  You
wouldn’t
know, would you?”

“Cut to
the chase, you ugly son of a bitch.”

The
smaller man chuckled and ran a hand over his bald head, “He’s got balls.”

BOOK: Forced to Submit
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