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It took me ten days before I could walk normal again, and after 13 days my body felt all fine, no more aching or soreness or anything. Now I'm sitting in front of the computer writing this. I have a tight armless top on, no bra, a short miniskirt, no panties and a couple of high healed shoes and no stockings. When I'm finished, I'll take a taxi into town, find me a pirate taxi and tell the driver to drive me home. But I'm just bringing enough bucks for the taxi into town.................
It was the second day of the air war and Air Force Major Diana Barker was feeling very unhappy. Part of this was attributable to the fact that she was sitting in the back of an Iraqi army truck with her hands tied behind her back and a bag over her head. She was thirsty, her body ached from the jolt she received when she ejected from her F-16, and she was afraid. But most of all, she was pissed because she knew that she had blown it. After all the hype, the first woman combat pilot had let herself get shot down on her first combat mission. All she could think of was how this was going to screw up her plans for getting a star. She had spent the last ten years of her life working toward that goal.
She had used every resource at her command to get ahead in the air force, discovering in her first year at the academy that it was not so much a case of how good you were as how well you could manipulate the system. She soon realized that the Air Force's equal opportunity program was the perfect " ticket to ride" for someone like herself with a lot of ambition and few scruples. Those superiors she couldn't or wouldn't fuck, she blackmailed.
As a woman, the pressure on her superiors to ensure that she succeeded was already great; adding the threat to file a sexual harassment complaint made it irresistible. This attitude earned her the nickname of " Nutcracker." Instead of angering her, Diana was proud of the nickname, so proud that she used it as her radio call sign. A year ago when the Air Force opened fighters to women, she had been an obscure if talented captain flying C-141 transports. Now at 32, Diana Barker was a high speed, low drag major and the darling of the media. Unfortunately, the media demands of her " superstar" status had not left her the time or the inclination to master mundane matters like counter-SAM drills.
As she rode, Diana began to think that she could come out of this OK. Aside from some groping by the soldiers guarding her, no one had mistreated her. Nor was she the type to be afraid of a little " grab-ass." Diana was almost six feet tall with the buff physique of a body builder combined with a 36" chest. She was proud of her body; like everything about her from her short and sassy haircut to her choice of cars, it was part of the " Top Gun" image she had created for herself.
Diana could feel the change as the truck moved on to a hardtop road and hours later could detect the increase in sounds as they entered a city. She surmised that she must be in Baghdad. Eventually she felt the truck stop and she was hustled out and into a building. There was some conversation in Arabic which she could not understand and then more walking, this time down some stairs and through numerous doors which clanked ominously behind her. When the guards released her arms and spoke, Diana could see light through the bottom of the bag covering her head and sense the presence of several other men in the room besides her escorts. Diana was very proud of how tough she had been at the Air Force's survival, escape, and evasion school. She thought she could handle a camel jockey.
Watching her from his seat was Captain Vahid Yazeed of Saddam's special security service, one of his most promising young torturers. He had been personally selected by the Great Leader to break the first American pilots captured and turn them into propaganda weapons. Yazeed understood that the information he extracted was of minor importance. His job was to break the pilots' will, so that they would be pliable tools in the battle for American public opinion which would be waged using their own media. Though he was surprised that the first POW was a woman, it made no difference in his orders and made the task that much more appealing to him. A through sadist, Yazeed had been eagerly anticipating watching his men rape an American male pilot. Now that he had a female pilot to work on, he looked forward to participating in the rape as well. For rape was a primary tool of his trade, used to break the subject, man or woman, psychologically.
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Although he had tortured Iraqi and Kurdish women, Diana would be his first Western female. Yazeed found the idea of having such a woman under his control very exciting.
" Strip her," ordered Yazeed as he leaned back in his chair and watched.
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The guards untied Diana's hands and unzipped her flight suit, then pulled it off her and set it carefully aside. Then they ripped off her T shirt, bra and panties, leaving her nude but for her combat boots, dog tags, and the bag covering her head. Diana did not try to resist them; instead she concentrated on breathing slowly and calmly. She had been told to expect this in survival school. Stripping a person of their clothes was meant to stripped them of their confidence, her instructors had told her. Still, knowing that didn't make her feel any braver right now.
Yazeed examined her body at length. He found the large breasts with their little finger size nipples to be fascinating. The breasts and particularly the nipples were a very sensitive area for a woman. He would enjoy working on a woman so amply endowed.
Her muscular body was foreign to an Arab but nevertheless appealing. Not only did it arouse him, but it would serve his purposes well since she could suffer longer before she reached her physical limit. Only her neatly trimmed pubic hair repelled him.
Unlike this Western slut, respectable Arab women shaved their pubic hair. Though he knew that he should wait longer to let the humiliation of standing nude before unseen men play upon her, Yazeed could not wait to see her face. Half afraid he would find an ugly hag, he ordered the bag removed from her head. He was pleased to find a beautiful, mature face framed by reddish brown hair.
Diana remained at attention when the guard pulled off the bag. Unaccustomed to the bright lights, she could see nothing until her eyes adjusted. Then she saw two men in front of her. One was seated; he was a clean shaven man about her age wearing a well tailored officer's uniform whose rank she did not recognize. Standing behind him in the classic flunky position was a younger, very worried looking man in a shabby uniform.