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For those who skipped the first part of the story: Jenny had left her wild interlude with the General behind and was heading back to the routine of research and academia. However, everything was not to go so smoothly and Jenny was about to learn something that would become very important in her life.


I woke early and showered contentedly. The interlude had been pleasant but it was time for me to become the career doctor again and return to the corridors of academia and research. I took breakfast in my room, a little sheepishly because I actually didn't want to say goodbye to The General, and slipped down after everyone had left for the conference to check out and take a taxi to the airport. Everything seemed quiet and I was a little surprised I had not received a knock on my door. Strangely, that made me discontent - it seemed out of character for the General, who had been so direct earlier. Perhaps he had accepted the inevitable Friday departure.

Shrugging the feeling of faint regret away I headed to the Customs Barrier to present my passport and tickets. The long queue shuffled forward and finally I faced the dark faced, uniformed Customs Officer. He took my passport and ticket, asking my name as he glanced at the passport. He paused and took a long look at the passport. For a moment I thought my changed flight details were giving him cause to double check passport and itinerary, but he unsmilingly shut my passport and gestured to the right, where two other customs officers stood. "Please accompany these officers, Doctor."

My startled look and the beginning of a question were cut short as the one of the men gently took my arm and steered me away from the curious eyes and ripple of interest from the waiting queues. Annoyance built at this cavalier treatment and I said to myself if this was the General's idea of a joke I'd have a few words to say, but I kept telling myself it must be the changed flight details as we walked in silence to an interview room.

I turned to ask for an explanation, only to have the door close firmly behind my escort. The empty silence of the room pressed in and I felt the first stirring of doubt - just what the hell was going on? Falling back on my usual pragmatism I settled down to wait in the wooden chair next to the small table. It was nothing, I kept telling myself, and contemplated getting the laptop out to start reviewing a paper destined, or maybe not depending on my decision as to its merit, for a scientific Journal.

However, the slight unease prevented me from doing so and I found myself pretending to go over my conference notes, making meaningless corrections along the edge of the notepad. I wondered when someone would come back or if they would come back before I really needed to visit the "Ladies." Annoyance faded to calmness as I worked on familiar thing and I didn't even bother to look up as I heard the door open, merely remarking, "I really would like to ring my Embassy NOW."

The door closed, but there was no answer and I looked up a little crossly. "Jxxxx, thank goodness. Just what is going on?" I stood up, all thoughts of having a few words about his arrogant way of ensuring I said goodbye gone. I was just pleased to see his solid dark shape, even if he was in unfamiliar crisp green colours of an army uniform. He padded over to the table and looked at me, his face impassive.

"Doctor," he began. The look and tone of his voice alerted me to something. What that something was I wasn't quite sure, but a sudden wave of cold weakness ran from the pit of my stomach down my legs and up to my throat and I found myself sitting in the chair, hands resting on the table to still them.

"Jxxxx--" I tried again but he was not being very helpful.

"You were reluctant to use that name earlier," he interrupted and continued coolly, "You won't use it again

"Then tell me what's going on, why am I here?"

He sat on the table next to me and looked down. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye. I can't allow that."

How could he not allow that, I wondered. Then it hit me - he could, he had. Here in his country he was an important man and this country was not like mine. Different history, different culture, different rules. Here I could disappear and, apart from an initial flurry of desperation from the Embassy, it would all die down in a week or two. I'd be just another woman who had refused to take travel advice about "dangerous places to visit." The realisation didn't take that long to sink in - I was in trouble.

"General, what do you want?" I looked up at him, appealingly I hoped, and shifted my hand to rest on his uniformed leg. He was quiet for a long time and I found myself actually too frightened to move. The fear was like a solid ball in my throat, so tight I actually thought I would not be able to speak, even if he demanded it.

"Tell me you want my black cock so badly you'd fuck me here across the table if I permitted it."


The solid ball of fear got bigger and I found myself staring at the one way mirror/window at the other side of the room. My white face and startled eyes were reflected back at me but who, I wondered, might be watching through the glass. The General sighed heavily and stood up. He walked away, towards the door and I realised he'd walk through and leave me if I didn't do something. "Jxxxx...." The thoughts tumbled, I shouldn't say that, oh god, what should I say. "General, please." The wooden chair clattered to the floor as I jumped up and took three desperate steps across the space between us to cling to his hand. He turned in response to the fear in my voice and eased his hand from my grip to fold his arms across his chest, looking down at me without smiling, his black eyes unreadable.

"I.... Oh shit.... Jxx.... General, please, this is a joke and it's not funny."

But it wasn't a joke. The hard look in his eyes told me that and, unable to stop myself, my knees buckled and I slipped to my knees, my hands dragging down his body to support my weakness. The room stopped swinging and I found myself leaning against his legs, wishing desperately that I didn't feel so much like a frightened little girl. With effort I convinced myself there was some steel in my body and looked up at him. It didn't help, because he loomed over me, distant and remote, and his face told me I only had one choice.

"General," I whispered. "Fuck me, fuck me now."

Once I said it I realised it was true. I could feel the heat between my legs and wondered why, in this dingy interview room, with this man standing over me, I was becoming aroused. Recollection that there might be someone watching through the one way mirror only made my nipples harden and my hands tightened on his thighs before I could control the wave of need that washed over me.

He lifted me up and stepped away.

"Strip, everything off now."

There was no hint of any gentleness in his voice. He was impatient. I could feel it, but I didn't know why, only that I'd better find a way to ease his impatience or I would regret it. I could feel the hardness of my nipples against the fabric of my bra and began to undo the buttons on my shirt, trying to catch his eyes as he watched my fingers move. The shirt dropped and I kicked off my sandals and undid my skirt to stand, embarrassed to be in this place, in this position, clad only in my white silk bra and pants.

He looked directly into my eyes then and a wave of ice cold fear washed over me. I was not mistaken in that feeling. He was going to take what he wanted and that was that. I licked suddenly dry lips and stepped back nervously.

"I do not like repeating myself," he said conversationally. "I said 'strip, everything' and I said I wanted to hear you say - what did I want you to say...."

It was not a quite question, but the tone demanded an answer and I stammered, "I want your black cock so badly that I...." My voice trembled into nothing and continued, "Please, General, please don't--"

I was unprepared for his sudden movement and the hard, controlled slap across the side of my face.

"Enough. I want to see your tits, get the rest of your clothes off."

Gulping I did what he wanted. What else could I do? The bra fell from my strangely clumsy fingers and I stumbled a little as I pulled the thin silk panties off. I stood naked and pale in the cool, dim room. All the light was on the table and I was glad that I stood facing him, my back to that cursed one way mirror and whomever might be watching.

He smiled then, softening a little and I felt a rush of pleasure that I might be pleasing him. The moment was all too brief as he gestured to the table. There would be no compromise.

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

The tears pricked my eyes and I said dully, "I want you to fuck me with your black cock, doggie style across the table."

He took my arm, turning me unresistingly towards the table and walked me over to it. I couldn't lift my head, thinking of the mirror and the bright light over the table, revealing everything about me to whomever might be behind the glass and I hoped there was no-one. My feet dragged but his grip was firm on my upper arm. The shame was overwhelming, but worse was the shame of the realisation that I was wet and the area between my legs was tingling. At some deep level I was responding to him and I couldn't stop it, or him.

A push brought me to the edge of the table and I embraced the hard top willingly, pressing my breasts against the wood and turning my head to the wall, pressing the stinging cheek he had marked with his hand against the cool wood. At least no-one could see my face or my breasts, not in this position. The General was not so compassionate. His hand gripped my hair, pulling me up so that my nipples just brushed against the wood, forcing me to look at the mirror. One strong leg pushed between mine as he kicked my legs apart. Not satisfied, he kicked them wider, holding me still by my hair.

He smiled into my eyes in the mirror and told me to stay in that position. I closed my eyes, and opened them again as I positioned myself on my elbows, seeking what little comfort I could on the hard surface. My will was slipping away as he stripped every last thought that I might retain some dignity. His repeated command to stay there didn't stop me from jumping as one hand caressed my buttocks and I heard him chuckle deep in his chest. His hand brushed over the folds around my cunt and he could feel the dampness and the heat. He pushed one finger between the folds and down to caress the nub that formed my clitoris. I groaned at the waves his touch elicited and he leaned close to my ear.

"You are so wet you are dripping, you want this, poor sweeting, you are just a cunt waiting to be filled."

My mind swung back to the night I'd whispered in his ear that it was just a fuck, that he was just a fuck. He was right. My body was telling him what my voice would not. I did want him and my cunt was aching for his cock. His finger tracing a path from cunt to clitoris made me whimper, "Please." I didn't know if the 'please' was for him to stop or continue.


His touch stopped and I was left leaning across the table. I lifted my head to look into the mirror and watch him undoing the belt on his uniform pants, undoing the zip to release the hard shaft from his clothes. He didn't even smile at me as he moved directly behind me and I cried out as he suddenly thrust two fingers deep into my cunt, stretching and twisting inside the warm flesh.

"What do you want, sweeting?" The endearment was as humiliating as if he'd called me a whore or a slut, but I knew not to avoid answering.

"Fuck me, General."

There was a plea in that tone. I told myself it was because I wanted the ordeal over so I could leave this damned place, but his fingers stretching open my cunt were wet and the tingling from my clitoris told me otherwise. I wanted him to fuck me. He withdrew his fingers, hands pulling my cheeks apart so he could gain better access to my exposed cunt. I dropped my head, unable to look at him or the mirror and felt the huge swollen head against the entrance. One hand left my buttocks as he guided his cock into the opening, the head resting just inside. I closed my eyes, the tears pricking against the lids as both hands gripped my hips. There was no sign of the considerate lover I'd enjoyed last night and I could not stop the cry of pain when he dragged me back against him as he slammed the full length of his cock home.

He ignored my whimpers as he rammed his shaft in again and again. The table edge was hard against the tops of my legs and my breasts swung wildly as he fucked me. Satisfied that I could not move from beneath him his hands moved to enclose my breasts, squeezing them together, kneading them so hard I bit my lip to stop my whimpers from becoming little cries. If anything that made him more determined to elicit a response and his fingers pinched my nipples as he squeezed the soft mounds.

"No, please, please...."

I had not been able to prevent the words and he laughed, continuing to slam his cock deep into my unresisting body, holding me against him with his hands on my breasts as he hit deep inside. My head dropped lower as I struggled to maintain composure. What he was doing was brutal and raw. Despite my shame I realised that, at some deep level, I was enjoying the primal savageness of his body slamming into mine and the feel of my breasts captured in his hands that left me grunting each time his cock filled and stretched my swollen cunt.

His hands released my breasts, but not me. One hand shifted to the small of my back, pushing me down against the table until I thought he would break my back; the other tangled in my hair and pulled my head up to watch him in the mirror.

"Fuck, you are so sweet, such a tight little cunt."

The physical force of the thrusts was so intense that I knew I'd have huge bruises on the tops of my legs and stomach tomorrow and my breasts felt hot and heavy. They too would be bruised tomorrow, marked with his fingers where he'd squeezed them so roughly. Whatever we'd shared before was gone. This was an assault that battered at my very being, but it no longer mattered as my eyes locked with his as he took my body without any consideration. It no longer mattered because it was what I wanted; it was stirring something in me that I had never experienced before. The strange knowledge that I was an object for this man was bringing me close to an orgasm that I no longer wanted to hold back.

As though he knew and did not want to give me this pleasure, the General slammed into me one last time, ramming me against the table so hard that I did cry out in pain. I felt the quivering hardness of his cock and the warmth of his come filling me. I was aching with the need to come, but his body was pressing against mine and I closed my eyes to avoid the triumph in his. His hand still pinned me to the table, but he let my hair go and my head dropped. I stayed quiet and still apart from the harshness of my breathing, too confused by my body's betrayal to his domination to want to draw his attention to me again.

But The General had not finished with me. He withdrew and I heard his voice, stark and compelling.

"Lick me clean."

I did not even consider refusing. Even if I had wanted to I knew he would not allow me that petty defiance. I dragged myself up from the table and turned to begin. His hands found my shoulders and pushed me down to my knees on the hard, dirty floor in front of him. Above my head his black cock swung, still half erect, and I found myself moving to take the base in my hands, my mouth opening to engulf the head.

"I said lick me, nothing else."

Once again, my body betrayed me at the sound of his voice, at his demand. My nipples contracted and hardened and my cunt tightened, his come leaking down my thighs. My tongue began to lick the last of his come from the tip. The taste of it, mixed with my own fluids, along with the smell of sex, made me moan. His hands cupped my head, but gently, letting me continue to lick the juices from his softening cock and then his balls.

"Do you want to suck me, to make me hard again?"

The voice was gentler than the earlier hard commands, but still demanded a response. The tip of my tongue pushed his balls apart as I licked upwards, stopping long enough to whisper yes quietly, before returning to swirl each heavy orb with my tongue, cleaning the last of our juices away. He chuckled, not at all pleasantly and tightened his hands to draw me upwards to stand in front of him. I stood passively, eyes down, watching him tuck his now soft cock away and do up his uniform and belt. I wanted to squeeze my legs together to ease the unfulfilled ache. Even worse I wanted to ask him to please let me make him hard again, to fuck me and make me come.

I yelped, partly in surprise, partly in fear, as his hands closed on my waist and he swung me up to sit me on the table. One muscled leg pushed my knees apart and my eyes flew to his face. Without thinking my hands closed on his arms and I gasped as his hand brushed over my stomach, up to cup one breast. Not harshly, as he had before but softly, his fingers running over the nipple like a butterfly kiss.

"Aaaaarh, yes."

Part cry, part groan as I leaned into him, my forehead against his chest. His hand moved downwards, cupping the curled red hair covering my mound and one finger traced around my clitoris. My hands made small fists in the cloth of his uniform as I clung to him and my legs opened even further. The finger left off tracing the hard nub and pushed downwards into my cunt, deeper and deeper until it could go no further. Another joined it, lazily working amid the mix of his come and my wetness. I was pressing my clitoris against his hand as hard as I was pressing my forehead against his chest.

"Please, I want to come, please make me come."

"Make you come? Oh, Sweeting. You know better."

There was a note of amusement in his voice and the fingers were still. I no longer cared if anyone was watching or how much of my being he had stripped from me. He had also shown me something about myself. The entire centre of my being had been drawn to the clitoris pressed against his hand and his fingers working against the walls of my cunt. No other man had managed to take my body and now my soul was being taken from me too.

"Let me come, please, let me come."

The fingers moved again, his hand was warm against my clitoris. My breathing was getting shorter and harder until that moment when his fingers withdrew and slipped up, one on other side of the clitoris to pinch it and stretch it. I exploded. The come covered his hand as the world became nothing more than one great orgasm that left me struggling to breathe. He let me recover until the panting was no longer hard and ragged then brought his fingers up to my mouth and I sucked them willingly, like a greedy child until he drew them out to rest his hand against my cheek. There was just one thing left.

"Say my name."

I shuddered, my nipples contracting again with want, because this time I couldn't avoid saying it. The first was hard to say -- it stuck in my throat -- but once said it was right.

"M-m-master. My master."

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