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Naked

By

M. H. Keplar

FOREWORD

This is a record of a fantasy, not an attempt to describe a real life POW situation, about which I know almost nothing.

DAY ONE

The sun was Hot and the air dry. Lt. Luke Henderson stood naked on the packed gritty earth in the center of a semi-circular amphitheater. About twenty-five feet in front of him a dozen or so enemy soldiers lounged in plastic Adirondack chairs. Where did they get those? Drinks were on small tables beside them. About twenty feet to their left Miller, DeAngelo and Beaubain sat on their heels in front of three soldiers who held them by their hair with knives at their throats. The translator had made it crystal clear that one of them would have his throat slit if Henderson resisted them in any way, which was why he remained motionless even though he was not physically restrained. The implication of having three there was that they could move on to another man if one had to be killed.

Fifty feet off to his right was a cage, built into the foundation of the amphitheater. The front of it was a barred wall with a similarly barred door in the center, so that everything inside the cage was visible from the outside. The remains of his platoon were there. Less than two dozen men, no non-coms left.

Blood from the several small wounds on his chest and thighs had dried. The wounds happened when his clothes were cut off of him with knives. Poor prospects for getting dressed again.

The expressions on his three comrades’ faces were stoic, as was his. His mind was as empty as the landscape. There was no point in trying to guess what would happen next. He concentrated on his resolve to do whatever it took to save his men. He straightened a bit.

Five men in the group of enemy soldiers stood up and began to walk toward him. Three were dressed in fatigues, one in a service uniform, and the other, his demeanor suggesting he was of a higher rank, was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis. Henderson watched them approach, but his mental image was that of the three men with knives at their throats. As they drew closer Henderson’s heart began beating in near panic as he realized that the black object in the hand of one subordinate was a leather facsimile of a circumcised penis, complete with testicles that could be used for a handle. He clenched his hands and stiffened his back further and stared hard at the officer in the middle, as much to avoid looking at the leather thing as to bolster his courage.

But it was worse. When the men arrived the one in the Hawaiian shirt said something to the man in uniform, who then turned to Henderson and said, in heavily accented English, “Lieutenant, what the commander wants from you today is a show.” The commander flipped Henderson’s penis, and spoke again. The translator said, “This won’t do. If you can’t give us a show, we’ll slit the throat of that man over there.” Henderson looked toward his three men in front of the bench. A small trickle of blood was already running from DeAngelo’s neck. Oh, God! Oh, God! Di Angelo was just nineteen. He looked terrified.

Henderson’s fear of assault was replaced by fear for his men. Getting aroused wasn’t something you could command. The fear left no room for plans or ideas about what to do.

And then it came to him. He did know what to do. He would have to reach down to a seldom acknowledged aspect of his psyche. The prospect of going down that path in the real world caused a mental shudder. But needs must.

He had experienced a yearning for abuse and pain and humiliation that would allow him to surrender so totally that all other thoughts would be driven away. He knew it could result in an intense sexual response, but he had never experienced these things in reality. Now he must. He shut his eyes and cast about for a feeling of surrender, but he couldn’t discover it. He opened his hands and pressed his palms and fingertips into his bare thighs, a gesture evocative of being bound, or self stimulation. Then he forced himself to stop struggling and simply surrendered. He dropped his shoulders and took a long breath, so his whole body loosened. He focused mentally on his nakedness, nakedness under the gaze of these five captors. He shifted his feet so his stiffening cock and balls hung even more exposed. He opened his eyes and watched is cock swell and stiffen until there was a straight path from his balls to the tip. He felt profound humiliation, to be seen by all to be aroused, but also profound relief. He raised his eyes to the chief officer and knew that he would do whatever that man commanded. He also knew that his men would be safe.

The officer stared back with an expression of sneering ownership. Henderson took this in and his body came awash with a sense of subjugation. His breathing became more rapid and shallow as he focused on the eyes of the officer. His genitals throbbed. His torso became sensitized so he wanted the men to touch him, to hurt him. Squeeze his nipples. Dig their fingers into his muscles. Sexual tension engulfed him. Finally he shifted his gaze to the dildo, desperate to be impaled.

The translator left and two of the remaining fatigue clad men came up to him and gripped his wrists, bending his arms and holding them rigid, to provide purchase. They were about his height, but bigger in all other methods; larger bones, more muscular. Their hands could almost encircle his wrist. He focused on the intimacy of their touch, of being imprisoned by their four locked elbows. He focused on the sneering face of the officer who had him in his power. His whole body became fluid except for his cock which was engulfed in need.

The two imprisoning him dug their fingers into his buttocks and pulled them wide aside. He embraced the feel of their hands, being handled this way. He watched the soldier with the phallus walk behind him, felt its tip begin at the top of the cleft between his buttocks and slide down to his anus where it rested. Henderson braced expectantly for a sudden, painful thrust, but he was denied the dignity of a brutal assault. Instead the instrument was twisted slowly from left to right as it was eased in and his sphincter relaxed. When the small ridge on the phallus passed his sphincter, his whole pelvis was flooded with warmth and his erotic surrender was displayed for all to see. The men released his buttocks and they close around the shaft, heightening the sense of invasion.

At each subtle movement of the dildo Henderson’s cock throbbed. His breath was quick and shallow. He was increasingly in need of release.

During this time the officer had fixed his eyes on Henderson’s, just occasionally looking down at his rigid erection with a half smile on his face. It was this look, rather than the invasion of his Ass, that caused Henderson’s abdomen to convulse erotically. The officer’s smile broadened to a grin.

Finally he gripped Henderson’s penis, squeezing and stroking just enough to cause Henderson’s swollen testicles to contract and shoot out a strong stream of semen. His involuntary cry was a mix of pain and pleasure. The men around him and those in the chairs cheered. He would have collapsed but for the soldiers holding his wrists and elbows. He felt a sense of loss as the phallus was slowly withdrawn. When his panting ceased and he could stand on his own, they let him go and motioned for him to return to the cage. The four of them went back to their drinks.

Henderson stood there for a few moments, waiting for his cock to return to some semblance of ordinary. His thoughts were, paradoxically, of completion. He had completed the task of saving his men, but he had also completely surrendered to his tormenters. If more of his men’s lives were to be put at risk, he hoped he would be forced to save them again in the same way.

He absolutely did not want to face his men. Surely some had figured out what might actually be going on, but there was nothing for it. He had to understand how to handle this and fast. He couldn’t let his men become part of the sado-masochistic scene in his head. He fought the urge to cover himself with his hands, and instead tried to muster up the feeling (or absence of feeling) he would have if he were just coming out of the Shower back at the base. No big deal. He finally turned and headed toward the cage. He had about fifty feet before he had to come up with an approach. With about twenty feet left it came to him. His shoulders relaxed. He knew what to say.

He entered the open door to the cage and the guard outside clanged it shut. The men were all standing, watching him expectantly. He knew them all well. He knew where they came from, their family situations, their military records. But it was clear that now they’d begun a journey of knowing him in an even deeper way. He took a deep breath and sat down gingerly on the splintery wooden bench, the only one in the space, and leaned his forearms on his thighs.

He paused for a moment to watch MacKenzie apply the two band aids DeAngelo had been given to his neck. DeAngelo caught his eye and pressed his lower lip up in a kind of inverse smile, conveying thanks and apology and sympathy, reminding Henderson that much more was at stake than his or his men’s self image.

Then, “OK, guys, pull up some dirt, have a seat and listen up. I think these people want three things. He lifted his forefinger. They want entertainment. They’re gonna get it and there’s nothing we can do about it. He lifted his middle finger. They want to leave you leaderless. They want to destroy all respect you have for my authority. Well, I’m not resigning. Three,” he lifted his ring finger. “They want to destroy your morale. One way, of course, is to put you all in fear for your lives. Will you be picked next? Beaubain and Miller and DeAngelo were legitimately terrified.”

He paused and gently bit his lip, to take a moment to process some emotion. It was sadness. He was sad at the loss of his nearly seamless public persona. He suppressed a sigh and continued.

“It would be crazy to tell you to relax, but I think I can say that I’ll rise to the task of protecting you.” His wry smile was met, not by chuckles, but with sympathetic looks and smiles.

“I may be over thinking on these last two things, but that’s my guess. But, whether that’s their plan or not, we’re not going to let that happen. You’ll have had a lot of different reactions to what happened out there today.” He tilted his head toward the amphitheater. “That’s OK. The way not to lose morale, not to fall apart, is for all of us to accept our feelings. Did I expect to get a hard-on from having a dildo shoved up my Ass? No. I did not. But there’s nothing to be gained by running from what you’re feeling. If I want to deal with it later, when we get out, fine. But I’m not giving these guys the benefit of making me upset or guilty or demoralized. And I want you to do the same.

“I know you have a whole host of feelings. Some were aroused and are now feeling guilty. Some were aroused and are not feeling guilty.” He smiled in acknowledgement of the two openly gay men in the group. “Some of you were nauseated. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s OK, because, you know what? We’re human! We accept our feelings. And we take charge of our actions. We thank you nauseated ones for taking charge and not throwing up in our home.” Scattered smiles. “If you need to jerk off, just wait for dark and go for it. But while we’re here we don’t get involved in personal attachments, or angry acting out. Accept our feelings. Control our behavior. OK? Repeat after me, ‘We’re human!'” Almost all did. “Work on it.

“We need to keep busy, and one thing is we’ll do a half hour of calisthenics twice a day, once after breakfast and once after the ‘entertainment hour.’ It’s a good way to release nervous tension. Barbo, you’ll be in charge of calisthenics. If you decide on jumping jacks, I’m going to invoke executive privilege and do something else, like sit ups. There’s just so many assaults on my dignity I can handle,” he chuckled.

McSpadden spoke up. “Hey, Loot, while you were out there a bunch of us thought it might be a good idea if we stripped down too, sort of for solidarity, you know? But the guards out there,” he motioned in the direction where a few guards were gathered out of site, “they put a stop to it.”

Henderson smiled. “Sounds like a brilliant idea to me. Too bad you couldn’t implement it.”

Later in the afternoon he gathered them around again. “Men, we have to stay occupied and focused on things outside of here. I have an idea to address that just a little bit. Each day we’ll do three things. First, we’ll play a game between two teams, divided equally among us. Second, we’ll figure out the logistics of having the losers reward the winners when we get out of here. You’ll have to take into account that we might not all be physically together forever. Third, you’ll invent a game for the next day. To get you started, I’ve invented the game for tomorrow. We’ll divide ourselves into two teams and will all stand on one foot. The team of the last man standing is the winner. Finally, tonight you need to invent a way to reward the Remainders when we’re back home. The Remainders are those guys who were never on a winning team. The logistics of rewarding winners will be recorded in an imaginary log, one page per day. We’ll need to review the log regularly so we can refer to it when we get back to base.”

“Hey, Loot.” The gravelly voice was MacKenzie. “This is stupid. No way am I going to play games like standing on one foot.”

“Sorry, MacKenzie, but this is an order,” he said in a conversational tone that belied his words. “If you decide you want to disobey orders in this hell hole, then we’ll just deal with it back at base.”

That night, being in a desert like environment, the temperature dropped precipitously. Henderson was curled up on the floor, trying to sleep, but the cold was getting unbearable. They had been told that if anyone gave him clothing, they would be shot in the gut. They would die slowly. If Henderson was given clothing and the donor couldn’t be identified, someone would be shot at random. His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, the sound clear to everyone in the group.

McSpadden whispered to his neighbor. “Angstrom, come over here.” Then he crawled over to Henderson and said, “Loot, turn on your stomach.” Henderson did so and then McSpadden said, “Angstrom, lie down next to Henderson like I’m doing. Put your leg over his and your head on his shoulder. Put your right hand on his head. Link your fingers in mine so we can relax and our hands will stay in place. That’s the best way to warm someone up. Keep the scalp warm. And Malmstrom, lie down so the soles of his feet are pressed into your stomach.” Slowly the warmth penetrated their uniforms and reached Henderson. “Thanks, guys,” he mumbled and fell asleep.

DAY TWO

Henderson slept through the night after he had warmed up, but in the morning he threw himself into whatever activity was available, such as the complexities of positioning twenty-two human checkers in the grid they had traced into the dirt floor of the cage.

After lunch, the same cooked grain in two large bowls that they’d had for breakfast and for supper the night before, Henderson wondered some more about what was likely to happen that afternoon. Would he be able to pull off the same psycho-sexual parlor trick he had accomplished yesterday? Probably yes. He’d tapped a powerful part of himself.

At mid-afternoon two soldiers came to the cage and indicated that Geminiani, Schultz and Barbo should head for the bench near the head of the amphitheater. Then they gestured for Henderson to follow them to the center, where he’d stood the day before. The translator was absent. The officer came up close and stared appraisingly at Henderson for a moment. Then he took Henderson’s hand and placed it palm forward against his own sizeable erection pressing against his khakis, and rubbed it slowly up and down. He had a thin see-what-I-can-make-you-do smile. Henderson’s penis swelled. His breath became more rapid and shallow and anything, do anything, filled his mind as he returned the officer’s gaze. His whole body seemed to melt into his now fully engorged genitals.

Then two of the soldiers pushed on his shoulders until he kneeled and then one put his cheek on his own crossed forearms and pointed to the ground in front of Henderson. Henderson positioned himself as indicated, with his Ass on display. He concentrated on the superior officer who was standing about five feet away. His penis throbbed. He relaxed his shoulders and let his chest press into the ground and waited for whatever was to happen.

“Hey, Loot,” came a voice behind him. It was Miller. What did they want with Miller? “Loot, they… they… I can’t do it Loot! What am I going to do?”

Ah! “OK, Miller, just think about those guys over there.”

“It’s Gemi, Loot. They’ve already cut him!”

“OK. Then we’ve got to pull this off. Just pull down your pants and masturbate yourself a hard-on. You can do it. Everyone can do it!”

Miller let out a long moan of distress. A few anxious moments later he said, “OK. I got it.”

“Now stick it in me!” He felt Miller kneel behind him and put his hands on his waist, but nothing at his anus. He felt Miller’s erection lie between his buttocks and then he felt it wither.

“Loot! It’s gone! It’s just gone!”

“OK. We’ll fake it. Keep your legs together and lean down on my back and just fake it. For Gemi!”

He could feel Miller push into him a half dozen or so times, breathing as if he were climaxing. When he stopped Henderson immediately said, “Don’t get up! We can’t let them see a totally limp dick so soon. Stay there and jerk me off.” The reason he gave Miller was true, but he also needed help keeping his own erection. It was too much of a balancing act to take charge of Miller and abase himself before the enemy officer at the same time. After a few awkward strokes, accompanied by Miller’s moans of distress, Henderson achieved the lamest Orgasm of his life, but achieve it he did. As he sank onto his heels the officer kicked him in the ribs. Not hard, but contemptuously and said something scornful. But he did signal to let the three hostages return to the cage.

Miller pulled up his clothing and gave Henderson a hand up. The two walked back to the cage in a somewhat awkward silence. Henderson wished he could say something that would help Miller over this psychological hump, but “Good job, soldier” didn’t seem the thing at the moment.

When they were once again locked in the cage Henderson stood next to Miller and put his hand on his shoulder. “Today, guys, you saw a show. Most of what Miller and I did was fakery. You need to give us a good round of applause.” They dutifully applauded and added hoots and hollers. “And look me and Miller in the eye. We’re all human!”

A ragged response. “We’re all human!!” Not everyone, but it would do.

Many times over the rest of the afternoon and evening Henderson wondered about how disappointing his experience had been, how diluted. A little in contradiction to his advice to his men, it was disquieting to realize how thoroughly these cravings had permeated his consciousness.

But being naked among his men didn’t address these cravings at all. He was royally tired of being naked. He really wanted to get dressed.

That night Henderson’s two human blankets didn’t have to warm his scalp as they covered him before he got chills.

DAY THREE

On the third day, as soon as three men were chosen as hostages, Henderson felt a frisson of anticipation wash over him. He went immediately to the front of the cage, so the men couldn’t see his swelling Sex. He gripped the rusting bars and pressed himself against a cross bar until the guards gestured for him to come out. As he walked to the center of the amphitheater, even as his limbs felt weak from dread, he had to admit that there was pleasure in the anticipation of being displayed and debased. As he watched the officer and his two assistants approach his penis stiffened even more. He could feel his blood pulsing in it. When it became fully erect he offered it to the commander in unspoken communication. The commander, in turn, drew his forefinger slowly and knowingly from the base to the tip. The muscles in Henderson’s thighs contracted visibly.

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