Redletter (Closed for CGRaven)

[Mephistophelily]

Sara had always asked "why" as a toddler. It wasn't that miraculous a thing- every child did it, and it was a favorite word for so many children for a very long time. But Sara never lost the inquisitive nature as she grew; in fact, hers developed further. It wasn't just about the Why, but What... When, Where. How come? What was the neighbor doing in his garage so loudly each afternoon? How come there was always a weird stain in the school driveway the second Wednesday of each month? Like other kids, she made the radio shows via tape recorder- but hers were with the news stories she investigated around her.

The world was fascinating and she wanted to share what she could find.

As time went on, so did Sara's curious side. The part that wanted to see what was going on. School newspaper. Yearbook staff. College radio. Intership with the Independent News Agency.

Now that one. That was the best.
That was now.

Her parents had feared Sara's move into a college dorm would deter her studious side, but visits to her college proved far from it. Notebooks of information littered her desk and shelves, more cans of energy drinks than beer bottles left in her trash can. The twenty year old's focus on her studies may have impressed her parents, but her roomies were less than enthused. "We need to get you out more! No wonder you have no boyfriend!"

Reluctant agreement to girls' nights out came from it, even a day of makeovers that left the natural brunette with reddish-blonde locks. She hadn't really wanted it, afraid the stereotype of blondes would be her undoing at the newly gained position at the station, but her friends insisted upon it. Well... Maybe it wasn't THAT bad...

It did catch the eye of one of the guys from the mailroom when she went back into work on Monday. Eric, the tall guy with a chipped tooth that drew attention to that great smile... He jokingly pointed to her ID bag as it hung from her shirt collar. "Need to get the photo reshot, hun. Doesn't even look like the same girl...."

She smiled at that, beaming still as she made her way to the newsroom. There was already a bustle going about, early morning scrambles to find the top news for the day. A few were watching the television perched on the far wall, a story on recent events in Africa involving pirates and a small yacht.

"Again?"
"They claim it's something they need to do to defend themselves..."
"Right, because there's nothing more threatening than a rich guy."
"More raids from warlords. They claim they need the money.... "
Sara glanced up at the screen herself, frowning. The passing banner at the bottom of the screen explained the blurry image of the sinking boat in flames, people on the shoreline barely visible. A terrible scene, to be sure, but it was a journalist's dream. Covering something like that was what gave credibility. It was the true mark of someone who knew their field- by being IN the field.

She perched on the edge of her desk and continued to watch for a moment, jumping slightly as a hand touched her shoulder. "Mister Hansen wants to see you."

Hansen... The Station manager. She drew a breath, slipping off her desk and heading into the man's large office. "Sara! There you are. Oh, look at you. I like it, I like it. Perfect for your next assignment. I've been considering your request for travel... To go out and get into the thick of it. Got something perfect for ya. Let me just... Now where did I-" He started pawing through papers, chuckling softly as he searched. "One moment, dear... I seem to have lost my papers for you."

Sara's heart jumped with joy. He was actually sending her out to cover a real story?! "Thank you so much, Mister Hansen..."

"Ahh, here we are." He tossed a flier before her, pamphlets on the latest fashion show in Paris. "You and Tiffany from Style Weekend. Can't be letting our intern wander Paris alone... Swept away by her own Pepe LePew or something, right?" He chuckled again, waving toward the door. "Your flight leaves Wednesday. The whole itinerary is with Claire over in requisitions. Pick up your presspasses and tickets from her. And have fun, dear!"

She stepped out of the office, that overjoyed feeling sinking away. Fashion show? That wasn't news! That wasn't what she had asked for at all! Heaving a hard sigh, she shook her head and wandered back to her own desk. At least her classes had come to an end for the year, the summer bringing more hours here- and, it seemed, the ability to go to France.
"But I don't like France..."

She stopped to see Claire at lunch, waiting for the lady to return to her own desk as she sat down. There was a full pile of agendas settled on the desk, Sara staring at them with curiosity. Who else was headed out? Peering around, she decided to just... Steal a peek. What harm would it do?

England for updates on Olympic plans...
California for latest Hollywood news..
Her own packet, along with Tiffany's...
Somalia.
She paused, staring at it. Someone- was covering the pirate story? Another quick peek around, then into the envelope. Two passes were gone... The rest of the crew had already been here. Sara licked her lips lightly.

She could trade.
She could go.
No one would realize... Not until she was gone. These passes were for tonight, not Wednesday. She could pack, leave, be there... With the crew...

They would fire her.
But the story- if she covered it incredibly. If she got an interview no one else could... If she got info no one else thought of... Maybe they'd promote her. Give her the stories she dreamed of. See her as a legitimate journalist...

She snatched the packet, quickly stuffing her own in to replace it. Let whoever-it-was handle Paris.

Claire came back moments later, smiling at her and settling into her own chair. "You look nervous, sweetie," the older woman chuckled. "Afraid of planes?"

"Y-yeah."
Claire thumbed through, the outer packet still reading as Sara heading to Paris. "Ohh, how niiice. Okay, let's get your presspass set! Over by the wall and smile pretty!"

Within minutes, she had what she needed- the thick plastic tab with her image, "Sara Mitchell" embossed beneath the INA logo.

She left early.
"Very sick. Stomach killing me. Please. Nerves? Maybe? Puking."
Last word got it.

She was packed and in a taxi by 7 pm.
Doing it... She was really doing it...
God she hoped she didn't get fired for this.

 

[cgraven]

The latest reports of piracy off the horn of West Africa had shown, once again, that the region was in chaos, controlled by roving gangs of local militia, and all centralized control had broken down in the impoverish and draught ridden region. Nature had not been kind to the region, devoid of natural resources; crops failing the people had few options in a world now more concerned with their own financial crisis than the horn of Africa. It seemed a retired couple from England had been sailing around the world through the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean when they had been seized by local pirates. These pirates took any vessel they could from pleasure craft to major cargo vessels and oil tankers. They claimed that it was the only way to support their families in the war torn area, and to fend off the outside War Lords. The couple’s release, after an adsorbent ransom had been paid, had spawned headlines around the world and a shadowy figure emerged from the obscurity of West Africa, General Kummel Mustafa.


The strongest of the local warlords in the shadowy world of West Africa was General Kummel Mustafa. His communiqués released over the internet were surprisingly well written and lucid, and proclaimed he was a Patriot not a Pirate. They lacked the revolutionary rhetoric or the religious fanatic zeal so common to the region. Where others willingly granted interviews General Kummel Mustafa had not, making him an illusive enigma to the outside world. Obviously there was a well educated individual behind his communiqués but was it the General? Yet what of the man? The more one tried to discover about him, the more and more illusive he became. Few details were known other than that his headquarters was presumably located in the northwest region in a village known as Kala Gangi. It was remote, isolated, and at the apex of the Horn of Africa. It would take determination to reach Kala Gangi and General Kummel Mustafa

http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd399/cgraven/Story%20Illistrations/633729637_726540.jpg

Kummel Mustafa reclined on a chaise that was so common to the area. Once more colonel Kamal was arguing against granting any interviews with the western new agencies. He hammered two salient points home, first reporters had their own agenda’s and were biased because of their concepts of western morality and if they discovered the bases for the General’s wealth it could prove quite dangerous to all. The second point was that if it was necessary for the reporter, to as he put it disappear, embarrassing questions would be asked. Kummel Mustafa waved a dismissive hand.

“My dear Kamal we shall choose a little known reporter for the interview from a smaller news agency then if all does go well we shall have gained much credibility with the international community. It is important that we be seen as well educated and so very concerned with the welfare of our people.”

Kummel Mustafa had been educated at Oxford University, Kings College and knew very well the power of a positive public image in the western press. Yet he also knew that his organization could not survive too close scrutiny.

“ I think this shall be our interviewer the Independent News Agency. INA is respected but has few resources in the region and if their corespondent needs to disappear Colonel few if any will be looking for them.”

He paused for a moment considering just how to present the image he wanted to present to the world at large.

“ Make the arrangements Kamal offer them an escort for their safety and stress on them the need for security,”

When INA arrived they would find a Spartan military camp at Kala Gangi with rag tag soldiers feeding starving villagers from their own meager rations. What would be hidden from her would be what really went on at Kala Gangi that was unless they became too curious for their own good.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Though the original story to Claire about a fear of flying was believed to be a lie, Sara soon realized that she did indeed have a problem with planes once her fight took off. Things seemed to be going rather smoothly so far, a surprising thing. The camera and sound men really seemed less than concerned when Sara met up with them, one even commenting on how this was 'a much nicer surprise than the asshole he expected'. No questioning on how she ended up with it, no doubts on her story of the original assigned anchor becoming unavailable. All they asked of her was to take her fair share of luggage when it came to loading taxis.

"Of course, guys. We're all doing the same thing, right?"
The cameraman chuckled. "She hasn't gotten the attitude yet. Newbie."
"Leave her alone, James. Listen, kid. You gotta be careful on these other country things, okay?" The sound guy shook his head, frowning as they moved on through security. "Things are way different than they are here. For one thing, a girl like you... You can get yourself into a helluva lot of trouble without intending to. I've seen a lot of shit go down overseas, kid... not just when I was in the military."
"In the military-!," James scoffed, giving a doubtful look their way. "Aaron was a fucking web designer."
"Computer. Programmer. Asshole." Aaron glared back at him, then looked back to Sara. "Okay, fine. I wasn't exactly front line. But I still saw what happens in situations like that. Just stay close to us, alright?"
Sara nodded slowly. She was certain she could handle doing all this, but at the same time... this was a little... unnerving. But a true journalist would choke down their fears, and focus on their story. She wasn't some little 'kid' as Aaron here kept insisting on referring to her as.

Boarding the plane, Sara was surprised to find that she was given a seat in First class, while the two crew members were placed in Economy. "But- I thought... we were all riding together....," She called out to them as the stewardess guided her up.

James laughed again, waving to her. "Not as equal as you think, sweetie. Enjoy the ride- and don't let it go to your head, right?"

She frowned as she took her seat, glancing around the buttons and various little lights. Good lord it was worse than her father's car. "Pardon me, but... how long is the flight?"

"We should be arriving in 15 hours. Get a good rest, and by the time you wake, we'll be serving coffee and starting a new film." The stewardess smiled, handing Sara a pillow and reaching up to turn off the light for her. "Local time will actually be about 7 pm tomorrow when we arrive."

"Oh..."
Her phone went off with an email alert, a sound that caused the stewardess to glare at her. She quickly reached down, turning off the connection but leaving the email open. When Claire had signed out her paperwork, the computer's scan of the agenda placed the information with her- 'the reporter covering the Patriot Movement'. Well, that would be her now, she supposed. Skimming through the note, she nearly shrieked, clasping a hand over her own mouth as she stared at it in shock.

General Mustafa was granting communications to INA. To... her. She and her crew were to be given specialized escorts from the General himself, and allowed the chance to interview the man who deemed himself a revolutionary for his country.

She was shaking now... Something that left her doubtful of even possibly managing to fall asleep at any time at all.

Sara was asleep within the hour.

The warmth of a hand on her arm roused her, slowly waking to find Aaron grinning at her. "Did you get the email?"
"Yeah. That's... That's just amazing. I thought he was avoiding the media..."
"Seems we're someone he thinks he can trust. Now, be careful with this one, kid. Phrase your questions PERFECTLY. Do not say ANYTHING that could offend this man in ANY way. The wrong word, wrong syllable... You could get us all killed. No pressure or anything." He patted her arm again, heading back to his own seating as the stewardess came to shoo him away.

His warning was something that lingered on her mind as they landed, her notebook out and in her lap as she jotted away possible inquiries. No, not that, that would certainly upset him. Maybe rephrased- yes, that was innocent enough. Maybe- No, no... Not that. She wondered if perhaps he had a list of pre-approved subjects he was willing to discuss? Her nerves- god, her nerves... she was shaking.

Shown off the plane, Sara quickly found that things were much different than back home. The crew was already waiting for her, their bags of gear and luggage stacked beside them, along with her own. "Figured we'd give you a head start, Sara." James nodded to her bags, then pulled his own up onto his shoulders. "Don't forget- you promised to pull your weight with luggage!"

"I know, I know...." Hiking as many as she could up over her own shoulders, she grimaced a bit, trying to catch up with the two. There was still the matter of the second smaller plane- "Puddlejumper", as James called it, to carry them to the village.

That flight was much shorter, but far rougher- little chance of writing anything on that one. The landing was merely on what seemed to be a dirt road, various people still wandering past the plane as though it were just another part of the daily scenery. She reached into her purse, pulling out the little camera she had brought along, snapping pictures of the movement around her- the passing people, the surprising actions of the soldiers handing out small portions to the hungered around them. "This... is all... Mustafa's work?," She asked softly, lowering the camera slightly and glancing to her crew.

"Looks that way," Aaron agreed slowly, pulling more bags from the storage of the plane.

A few more pictures taken by Sara's camera, only to pause as she noticed a man in camo standing before a large jeep and staring at her- a curious look on his face. Was that a very awkward try at a smile? "Probably hard to smile very often with all this around you," She noted to herself, tapping James on the shoulder. "I think we have someone waiting for us..." She cleared her throat, readjusting herself mentally and starting over to the man. "Hello there. My name is Sara Mitchell, I'm here from The Independent News Agency. I believe a representative from your group has been in contact with our organization?"

 

[cgraven]

Colonel Kamal leaned against the battered World War II jeep and watched the venerable twin engine DC-3 come in for a landing on the rutted dirt road that served as the air strip for Kala Gangi. He was quite pleased at the show that was being put on for the benefit of INA news. The performance was good enough, that if he did not no the truth behind the deception, he would have believed it himself. The two men that emerged from the plane were exactly what he had expected, late thirties, early forties most likely ex-military, men. That one would expect to see in a war torn region such as the horn of Africa. What he did not expect to see was the blue eyed beauty with the tawny golden hair that stepped from the DC-3. She stood there talking with the two men for a few moments. Kamal saw her glance once or twice in his direction, then drawing herself up to her full she started over towards him with a purposeful stride.

"Hello there. My name is Sara Mitchell, I'm here from The Independent News Agency. I believe a representative from your group has been in contact with our organization?"


As Sara extended her hand Kamal studied her from behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. Where the men were exactly what he had expected she was far from it. She wore no head scarf and she showed too much of her pale ivory skin to be a seasoned field reporter in a predominately Muslin country. The way she boldly extended her hand to him, her youth, and her beauty did not fit with what he had expected and therefore he was uneasy. Was she a distraction and one of these two men the actual correspondent?

“Colonel Kamal of PCE….”

He smiled to himself as he saw a momentary questioning look in the young girl’s clear blue eyes. His pause was no more than a heart beat as he continued.

“…….the Panafrican Congress for the Equality and it is my pleasure to welcome you to Kala Gangi. I am sure that you are eager to meet General Mustafa Miss Mitchell”

Kamal took Sara’s bags from her and tossed them in the back of the jeep. He gave several sharp commands in his native language and his soldiers went on the double to assist Aaron and James with their equipment. Before Sara could object Kamal started the Jeep and placed it in gear.

“My men will follow with your crew and their equipment.”

They drove for a half hour perhaps a little more as the Colonel told Sara that the plane had actually landed at an out post of Kala Gangi and that he was sure she understood the necessity for security in such an unstable region. At last they arrived at what was obviously a governmental building from a past and more stable regime. Sara was ushered inside and down a corridor to a sparsely furnished room. A man perhaps in is early fifties was standing studying a military map of the region. He was dressed in the same tiger pattern desert camo and wore the red toque of an English paratrooper.

Sir!

Kamal snapped to attention and saluted smartly

Miss Sara Mitchell of INA News Sir.

“ Stand easy Colonel Kamal.”

Turning he gave Sara a most disarming smile.

“ A pleasure to meet you Miss Mitchell.”


General Kummel Mustafa spoke with a soft Oxford accent. His voice was deep, dark and richly. A voice that was almost felt as well as heard.

“ I believe you have some questions for me.”

It was a statement of fact rather then a question.

 

[Mephistophelily]

“Thank you, Colonel. I am certain that our time here will be beneficial and give... us.. time..." she trailed off as the man took her bags and tossed them into his vehicle. A hesitant glance was given back towards her crew, Sara jumping slightly as he shouted something out to his own men that spurred them into action. The two crew members gave a look of their own, more concern shown in Aaron's face than James'. Taking a deep breath, she joined the colonel in the jeep and keeping her bookbag in her lap.

The grip tightened as the man explained further on the situations surrounding them, Sara's gaze wandering along the scenery of the compound. Heightened security, armed guards, wandering patrols to protect his people... She made notes on all of this, snapping further pictures along the way. The building that was their final destination received a shot as well, the camera lowering slowly as the colonel slipped from the vehicle.

Following after him, Sara held onto her notebook, bag slung over her shoulder as he led her through the building. Her nerves were growing more and more as they walked on, the questionss racing through her mind. Once they hit their destination, she found herself with a loss on what to do as the colonel saluted and spoke with his leader. When the general addressed her, she nervously smiled, the man's voice seeming to add to her worry.

She had srudied so long... waited for a moment like this.
The chance of a lifetime to prove herself... and yet now, it felt as though all that prearation had drained from her. Her hands shook slightly as she flipped through her pages, struggling to find her own voice.

"On behalf of INA, I just wish to thank you for the opportunity to speak with you, General. The- the chance to relay your side of all that has taken place with the world... " she paused then, glancing around. "My crew has yet to arrive, sir, but I would like to use this as a chance to get a few preliminary questions started?"

She stared at her notebook a moment, then drew a breath. "There are numerous concerns over the events of the last few weeks involving ships and personal watercraft. Is this something that can be addressed in our conversation? Are there any subjects you wish to discuss?"

The warning Aaron had given on the plane still lingered in her ears, worries on accidentally offending this powerful man resting heavily on her mind. God she wished the two men were here now...

 

[cgraven]

General Kummel Mustafa was quite surprise when he turned to see a very young and obviously very nervous young western beauty standing before him. As he extended his hand in greeting he loved the stark contrast between her soft, smooth, lily white hand his rough calloused ebony hand. That brief hand shake, the way her hand shook slightly, the nervous sweat, the way her sparkling clear eyes seem to naturally avoid his told the General that this was no seasoned reporter.

"On behalf of INA, I just wish to thank you for the opportunity to speak with you, General. The- the chance to relay your side of all that has taken place with the world... "

As Sara paused to catch her breath in an attempt to clam herself, Mustafa could see she was unsure of herself and obviously out of her depth of experience.

"My crew has yet to arrive, sir, but I would like to use this as a chance to get a few preliminary questions started?"


There was something quite adorable about this young western beauty as she fumbled with her notebook as she so desperately tried to become the independent field report she obviously was not.

"There are numerous concerns over the events of the last few weeks involving ships and personal watercraft. Is this something that can be addressed in our conversation? Are there any subjects you wish to discuss?"


Kummel Mustafa took a seat behind a Spartan wooden desk. There was no other chair in the room, which left Sara Mitchell standing in a little pool of bright white light from the ceiling fixture. Her escort Colonel Kamal leaned casually against the door jam. His dark eyes studied every facet of the young beauty’s body.

“Miss Mitchell I will answer whatever questions you have of me, ….of course with the exception those affecting the security of my forces and the people of Kala Gangi.”

General Kummel Mustafa had his fingers tented before his face. He had dark eyes that took in everything without appearing to look at anything in particular. Yet he could turn those same dark piercing eyes on you as if he could see your very soul. He noticed the nervous way the tip of Sara Mitchell’s little pink tongue slid across the sensual bow of her lower lip. He now turned that piercing gaze on the young novice reporter from behind his tented hands.

“………..Miss Mitchell you must understand that we are a poor war torn country in the grip of a devastating sub Saharan drought. My people are starving, we have no oil, gold, diamonds or resources that the West desires! If we do not take from the sea, if we do not hold the cargos that the West desire then how are we to obtain the money to buy food for our people.”

His words had the impassioned flare of an accomplished and polished humanitarian and yet the general had very skillfully glossed over the taking of captives. He had not addressed the question of the taking and holding for ransomed people like the English couple that had so recently been in the head lines. As he spoke he wondered just where Miss Sara Mitchell’s true value lay.

 

[Mephistophelily]

A small glance was given towards the doorway as the General moved over to his desk, finding the Colonel still standing in the room, merely watching as the two spoke. A touch of nervousness slid down her spine with that, suddenly finding even the lightweight buttonup she had worn to be far too warm.

She looked back to the General as he addressed her, nodding in return. "Thank you, sir. I understand. I would not do anything to jeopardize the safety of your people...."

With his explanation on why what had happened with the ships had come to pass, she at first hadn't even thought to bring her pen to the paper, spooked slightly by the powerful tone of his voice. When the thought to write finally hit her, she hastily scribbled down everything, her heart racing. She now wished even more that her crew would arrive. Aaron could have given her better signals on safe ways to speak with this man- now she was starting to doubt her own methods. It seemed she had already managed to slightly offend him, one of the big things the former military man had warned her to avoid.

Sara was sweating. It wasn't a sheen or a little glow. The light above was far too warm, and the two men watching her was getting too intense. She hesitantly reached down, undoing a few of the buttons hiding beneath her low-laying scarf.

"A sort of modernized Robin Hood," She commented as she looked over her notes, glancing back up to the General. "You take what you believe would further your people, from those you believe already have too much... But sir, there has been mention of some of those associated with the cargo ships not returning home. Do you have any comment on what may have happened to the missing French Captain?"

The approach of more footsteps caused Sara to pause, glancing back towards the door that the Colonel still stood before. A knock sounded, their language called out- and a mention of her own name.

"Sara?"
Aaron! Her crew had arrived! That must have been their escort calling out to announce their arrival and asking permission to enter.

"If it is alright with you, General, my crew would like to set up our equipment and record the further of our interview- that way, the world can have a better understanding of who you are..." She smiled to the man slightly, though that questioning still ran through her mind.

 

[cgraven]

General Kummel Mustafa was still debating with himself what the fate of Miss Sara Mitchell of INA news would be. A favorable article would lend certain legitimacy to his regime and cast him in a more favorable light on the world stage. Yet Miss Mitchell pale creamy ivory skin, her youth, beauty and obvious innocence also gave her a value. There was no doubt that she would be worth her weight in gold. Often momentous decisions turned on the most insignificant of events and so it was in Sara Mitchell’s case. The first was that the novice reporter hadn't even thought to bring her pen to the paper, which did not give the general the confidence that she could deliver a favorable article that would meet his needs. The second was when this young beauty hesitantly reached down, undoing a few of the buttons hiding beneath her low-laying scarf, calling attention to her firm young breasts and what her value would be in certain markets.

Mustafa was hardly listening to Sara as she softly thanked him and then just blurted her next question. It was phased in such a way that it came out more as a statement. One that could be taken in many ways.

"A sort of modernized Robin Hood. You take what you believe would further your people, from those you believe already have too much... But sir, there has been mention of some of those associated with the cargo ships not returning home. Do you have any comment on what may have happened to the missing French Captain?"

The question about the French Captain was most indelicate, especially when there was no one she could call on for aid if things became strained between herself and the General. With those few questions Kummel Mustafa had made up his mind as to where Miss Sara Mitchell true value to him lay and it was not in her skills as a reporter.


The soft knock at the door stayed Sara fate for the moment as Aaron called

"Sara?"

"If it is alright with you, General, my crew would like to set up our equipment and record the further of our interview- that way, the world can have a better understanding of who you are..."

For the next hour General Kummel Mustafa answered all the questions that Sara put to him while still skillfully avoiding the questions on captives, the disappearance of young white women, who had been members of some of the ships crews, with a deceptive ease that a more seasoned reporter might have pressed with a more diplomatic choice of words. At the conclusion of the interview Aaron and James were once more separated from Sara dismissed with a suggestion that they get some background shots for the article documenting the plight of his people. For Sara there was an invitation for her to share his meager rations. The general escorted Sara Mitchell up stairs to his private quarters, colonel Kamal her ever present shadow trailing in their wake. The rooms that Sara was brought to were far from the Spartan office of the interview. These rooms were decedent, and showed a quite different man than the humanitarian she had seen below. These rooms were those of a man who enjoyed his creature comforts.


“Miss Mitchell I noticed in my office you seemed quite warm……”

His dark piercing gaze held Sara’s soft clear eyes captive as a snake holds the sparrows before he strikes.

“…………..I am sure you would be much cooler if you removed your clothing Miss Mitchell.”


Miss Sara Mitchell of INA news was about to be come part of the story, rather than the reporter, a story of white slavery


“ Colonel Kamal arrange for an attack to be witness by INA News with enough evidence to convince them of the tragic death of Miss Mitchell.”

He had never taken his eyes from Sara’s.

“Your clothes Miss Mitchell or do you need some assistance.”

An evil smiled bowed the General’s lips.

 

[Mephistophelily]

The crew took only a few moments to set up, the camera and microphones easily in place while Sara reorganized her thoughts. She had hoped Aaron's presence would help to spur her into more acceptable questions, but at points it seemed the General was either avoiding her queries or found them questionable to the welfare of his cause. Indeed, the glance to her operations team did received a doubting look from the duo, Sara's nerves rattled slightly.

But, with all things considered, the man did seem to at least attempt a cordial interview, and she felt that perhaps her own hesitance on the matter had started to fade. She was handling this. She was doing this!

As the interview winded down, the two crewmen started to take down their heavier peices, agreeing to take the offer of further footage and sound clips from Mustafa's compound. It was rare enough to be allowed the entry, let alone the chance to take such a view for an outsider.

"Be careful, Sara," James warned softly as the two left, Sara taking her own attentions to the General and his Colonel.

The offer of a meal with the General certainly wasn't something to be declined, especially with the powerful tone of the man's voice. "Thank you, General. That would be wonderful."

Following the two through the building, her worries at first started to fade... Then suddenly began to get the questionable feeling. A doubt. That moment when hair on a neck rises with no reason at the time...

The room they entered certainly wasn't a reflection of where they had been. This was lavish, a room of greed. A room designated to someone of power that influenced their motives.

That feeling made sense now.
Sara had been lied to-!

"General, I would like to rejoin my crew," she blurted quickly, starting to turn for the door, only to find the colonel standing there. The General's deep voice seemed amplified by the room as he spoke to her, his demand draining the color from her face.

"Sir, that is not something I will be doing. I apologize if my actions in your office offended or gave you wrong impressions. I request again that you allow me to return to my crew!" There was a frightened rattle to her sharp words, a scared tone held in the attempt at being firm.

 

[cgraven]

"Sir that is not something I will be doing. I apologize if my actions in your office offended or gave you wrong impressions. I request again that you allow me to return to my crew!"

Mustafa dark evil grin only broadened as the depth of Miss Sara Mitchell’s naïve innocence became ever more apparent. The quiver in her sweet angelic voice. The way her stunningly beautiful eyes darted from Colonel Kamal to the bared windows, to the General’s own piercing gaze, he could taste the sweetness of her fear. He savored the look in the young western beauty’s eyes as she slowly began to realize that all avenues of escape were bared to her.

“ You could scream Miss Mitchell and if you did it would not change your fate my dear it would only mean the death of your companions.”


The General’s voice was quite calm and matter of fact. His deep Oxford accent seeming so out of place given Sara’s circumstances.

“ You see Miss Mitchell I have assessed your value to me and I fear my dear Miss Mitchell as a reporter you have very little value. Yet your smooth pale skin, your youth and your beauty make you quite valuable on the White Slave market. In fact Miss Mitchell you are worth your weight in gold.”


As Mustafa spoke he took a step closer to Sara. The back of his hand caressed her flawless cheek. He traced the line of her jaw with a single finger tip. It slid across the bow of Sara ripe moist lips as Colonel Kamal stepped up behind her, his muscular body pressed intimately to hers. The general’s finger tip slid down sensual curve of Sara’s throat. He loosened the thin blue scarf Sara wore and drew it from around her neck. Her pale pearl grey blouse gaped open from were she had loosened the buttons earlier, and show a generous amount of her soft ivory skin along with her daring little white silk camisole.

“ I am sure that the Colonel would be more than willing to help you Strip Miss Mitchell.”

As if to punctuate his point Colonel Kamal’s hands slipped around to cup Sara’s breasts as her drew her body back and tighter to his. Mustafa placed a single finger on the young girl’s lips to silence her.

“ Remember Miss Mitchell one little scream and your crew is dead. Now you clothes……………..STRIP!

The look in General Kummel Mustafa dark soulless eyes left no doubt that he meant exactly as he said. James and Aaron’s life were in her hands. At a nod from his General Colonel Kamal let his hands slip from Sara’s breasts yet he did not take a step back leaving young Miss Sara Mitchell caught between the two powerful ebony giants in whose hands her fate rested.

 

[Mephistophelily]

His calm tone only added to her fear, Sara's blue eyes widened as far as possible as she stood shaking in the middle of his room. This was... impossible... He threatened to kill her screw, the men she had only recently felt she had developed a friendship with, the two that had tried to keep this from happening. That little time of separation, and she had caused- this...

The words leaving the General were slow to register to the young woman, lost more in the haze of fear and disbelief as she felt her knees growing weak. Certain words clicked through finally, leaving her shaking. Her value... Slave Market? Weight in gold-

"S-stop.. please, stop, I beg of you, this can't... This can't be real, please- I'll tell the story you wish for the world to hear, I won't mention anything of this, please, just let me go home, let me be with those men- Don't hurt them-"

She choked on her words as he stepped to her, his hand against her skin. Dead silent, only shaking even more, horrified at what was happening. She managed a weak whimper as he ran his fingers against her lips, his Colonel pulling in close behind her and bracing her in for the General's inspection. She nearly screamed as he took away her scarf and peered at the now exposed skin, simply biting her lips together and closing her eyes.

His demand for her to remove her clothing came once again, the threat of helping hands and the testing motions of his Colonel causing a sharp gasp to leave her. The reminder of what happened if she truly made a scream brought tears to her eyes, realizing he meant every word of it.

The hands dropped, but she was still boxed in, both men waiting for her to comply. She felt so weak, so dizzy, the tears finally coming through with the thought of Aaron and James' deaths because of her. "Please don't harm them. Please...," She choked out, shaking her head as she closed her eyes and began to undo her blouse. The silk shirt dropped to the floor, Sara reaching down to undo the khaki dress pants and letting them fall as well, leaving her to stand before them in the thin camisole and her panties. She slowly looked back to the General, her lips trembling. "Please... Just... Let them go..."

 

[cgraven]

"S-stop.. please, stop, I beg of you, this can't... This can't be real, please- I'll tell the story you wish for the world to hear, I won't mention anything of this, please, just let me go home, let me be with those men- Don't hurt them-"

How many times had he heard it before the sobbing, the pleading, as the young beauty tried to escape her fate and yet General Mustafa never tired of it. The way they looked as slowly it dawned on them that escape was not an option.

"Please don't harm them. Please...,"

Sara Mitchell made one last little plea just like so many others that had proceeded her. Then came the moment he so savored that moment of her first surrender as the young beauty’s hands dropped, and Sara Mitchell of INA News with trembling fingers slowly undid the buttons of her silk blouse. The general smiled at the way Sara’s eyes had fluttered close as if she could not see him it would some how ease the reality of what was happening to her. Mustafa smiled approvingly as Miss Mitchell’s blouse fluttered to the floor to pool around her delicate ankles. The little shuttering breath, as Sara’s fingers went to the waist band of her khaki dress pants and they to soon slide down her sculptured legs, leaving the stunning young beauty to stand before them in the thin camisole and her panties.


“Colonel collect Miss Mitchell’s clothing and put on a little show to convince her companions of her untimely death at the hands of an attack by our rivals.”

Mustafa paused, what would come next would be a double edged sword and prove to the young beauty that his threat of death was not idle. Additionally it would serve to demonstrate to the naïve young American beauty that her safety lay in obedience.

“ Oh Colonel Kamal the French girl the one that bit you, Captain Corbeau’s daughter. She is about the same build and coloring as Miss Mitchell I believe she will be perfect for our little drama.”


“Yes Sir.”


“ Come Miss Mitchell I want you to see this and learn well that rebellion here has its price……"

When Sara hesitated to obey immediately the General simply said,

"........must I force you my dear Miss Mitchell?”

Shortly a young woman dressed in Sara’s clothing carrying her bag and lap top, emerged from the building were Sara was being held. The girl could, at a distance easily be mistaken for Sara herself. She quickly climbed into the battered World War II jeep.

“ She has been a very headstrong young lady Miss Mitchell. She thinks that she has been ransomed.”

A young soldier slammed the jeep into gear and careened down the road until it stopped on a little rise. The girl waved to Aaron and James, some distance away, as they were shooting the background footage. Suddenly their was the screaming of artillery shells and the jeep took a direct hit. The jeep was a burning hulk. Small arms fire broke out just as Aaron reached the jeep. The mock attack drove him back before he could do more that see the bodies of a western woman and an African soldier dressed as a colonel. There was just time for Aaron to grab Sara's INA Press Pass from the flaming inferno.

“ In an hour your crew will be taking off for the civilized world as we can not guarantee their safety. By tomorrow evening the announcement of your death Miss Mitchell will be common knowledge.”

Mustafa paused as his words and there true meaning hit Sara like a fist. There would be no one looking for her. Even as Sara’s mind was reeling General Kummel Mustafa took her by her trembling hand and led the terrified young girl from the window to stand before him in the middle of the room.


“Miss Mitchell you may continue to STRIP

Miss Sara Mitchell of INA News was dead to the world. Her life and her fate were in the hands of a man who had just sent a young girl to her death to convince the world of that fact.


“Miss Mitchell I would not try my patience If I were you!”

Again that cool dark voice, those dark piercing soulless eyes that leisurely took in every sensually seductive curve of Sara's magnificent young body. Those eyes that seemed to mentally strip her of the few little scraps of lace and silk that offered the young beauty at least some little measure of modesty.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Sara was too frightened to understand. The Colonel had taken her clothing, a confusing order involving some other girl was given- something she realized was given in English to frighten her even more, as she heard the Colonel reply in his native tongue. If the two had wished to keep this secretive, no English would have been used. This other girl- the daughter of... the Captain she had inquired about?

...Little drama...

"No, sir, please don't- Please don't hurt anyone else, I swear I'll-" Sara stammered out a quick pleading to the General, cringing as he simply demanded she come to his side to view the window. No... No, she didn't want to see this, she didn't want to see what he had planned....

"........must I force you my dear Miss Mitchell?”

Sara cringed, slowly moving to view out the window. She didn't want to look as he spoke further, telling about the girl currently taking a seat in the jeep. A man climbed in with her, the two driving off into the distance. At first Sara didn't quite get what was happening, but the knot in her stomach warned of something horrendous. She started to give a scream as the vehicle exploded, quickly clapping her hands over her mouth to stop the sound. Tears streamed her face as Aaron raced to the remains, lingering there before soldiers pulled him away.

Mustafa explained it all in a firm voice, how it all came into play.
Sara Mitchell, in the eyes of all who knew her, had just died...
...in a freak war accident...
...after having stolen media credentials.

"Oh my god..." The words choked out of her throat, horrified by it all. She barely felt his hand take hers, the leading pull back away from the window. This was surreal. Like watching a horrific movie... She didn't register his demand once again, staring at him a moment until he hissed out a warning. It felt like someone else was doing it, foreign hands taking control of hers and tugging the camisole up over her head, her light lace bra that supported her modest C breasts soon joining it on the floor, the thin lacy panties following moments after. Left naked before the General, Sara stared down at the floor, her hands folded before her in an attempt to gain at least some coverage of her shaven sex. She felt sick, truly sick- her shaking body felt ready to collapse at any moment.

 

[cgraven]

"Oh my god..."

The words had slipped from the Sara’s lips at the realization of what she had just witnessed. Was it a prayer for the French girl or herself?

Mustafa watched as the shocked young beauty, as if in a daze, slowly began to comply his order. Her hands trembled as Sara tugged her silken camisole up over her head to stand before her captor in just her little white lacey matching bra and panties. The young girl’s light lace bra that caressed her firm young breasts soon joining Sara’s camisole on the floor at her feet. Her thin lacy panties were the last of her clothing. He smiled as Sara Mitchell hooked her thumbs in to the waist ban of her lacy panties and slowly worked them over the swell of her hips and down her long sculptured legs to stand naked before him. Sara demurely lowered her eyes to stare at the floor as she blushed crimson, her hands desperately trying to hide her shaven pussy.

The general picked up a riding crop from the table by the side of his chair. He rose and leisurely circled Sara like a tiger circles its pry. He stopped before the young girl and lifted her chin with the supple leather tab of his crop so her eyes met his.

“Hold your head up Miss Mitchell for you really are quite beautiful my dear.”

Those dark soulless eyes, that deep darkly rich voice so polished, seemed in such contrast to each other.

“Place your hands at the nape of your neck Miss Mitchell as I wish to inspect your body now.”


Again the tiger circled his pry. Mustafa let his fingers tips graze the seductive curve of Sara’s firm ass. His thumb brushed across her right nipple as if he was gauging just how responsive her body was.

“The Last time we spoke Miss Mitchell we talked about me. Now we shall talk about you, and your future. Tell me how old are you?”


Again he circled her. He gave a stinging flick of his riding crop to the girl’s firm flanks to encourage Sara to answer quickly. With sharp little taps the general adjusted Sara posture to better display her gorgeous young body to him. Mustafa had Sara spread her legs a bit farther apart so he had a better view of her little pink shaven pussy.

“You know I am going to sell you in to slavery Miss Mitchell. Girls of your beauty and youth are worth their weight in gold. Tell me how many lovers have you taken?”

Again Mustafa stood be fore his latest acquisition as he waited her answer.

 

[Mephistophelily]

She shuddered as she heard his chair move, drawing a sharp breath, trying desperately to control her emotions. She had caught the smile on his face when she first let tears fall. She could be strong, she was certain of it. Try harder. Don't let him frighten you. Don't let him-

A quick gasp left her as he pushed her chin up with his crop, her eyes widening as she stared at him. She let a noise of disgust leave her lips as he "complimented" her, looking to the window instead as he pulled the crop away. Her arms refused to move at his request to raise, Sara yelping as he slapped her flesh with his toy to make her comply and hastily raising them to rest her fingertips along the back of her hairline.

She wanted to scream. To force his hands off her, fight back, kick him- something, anything, besides just stand here and give in. But after seeing what he had done... That poor other girl, and no second thought by the man... She was scared to death. Her body stiffened as he touched her, a sharp breath drawn in as her skin bumped. His fingers were rough, as was his actual touch against her. The shudder that pulled through her as his fingers roamed her breast infuriated her, closing her eyes a moment to refocus. No. Refuse to cry again. Don't!

His voice was impossible to ignore. It bore into her, demanded response. He wanted her age. She hesitated, finally hissing it out from clenched teeth. "Twenty. I'm twenty."

More stinging smacks of that thing, causing her to jump, spook, readjust. Her open legs and arched back left her feeling disgusted and frightened, shivering still. She stared at him as he inquired further, the reminder of his intent brought up once again. She didn't want to say anything more to him... Nothing that encouraged him...

"Two." She choked the word out, closing her eyes again.

 

[cgraven]

"Twenty. I'm twenty."

The girl was trying so hard to maintain some control over her own supple young body and the fear that was clawing at her.


“So young Miss Mitchell………”

He caressed Sara’s cheek with the soft supple leather tab of his riding crop. Slowly Mustafa let it slide down the sensual curve of her slender neck, down across her heaving chest to the sweet scented valley that lay between her firm young breasts. He watched her as that leather soft leather tab seductively explored the contours of young Miss Mitchell’s breasts. He smiled at her reaction as it sensual circled her right breast’s dusky pink areola until it was a puffy little pillow capped by a ridged pale pink rosebud nipple before turning his attention to Sara’s left breast.

Mustafa noticed every little change in his captive’s breathing, the way she turned her face from him, how her stunning blue eyes fluttered behind her closed eyelids, and the way her pulsed raced just below the surface of her silken skin at the hollow of her neck.

"Two."

She choked the word out, as that soft leather tab slid down across the quivering plane of her flat abdomen. Its madenly soft sensual caress slid lower to caress Sara’s lily white inner thigh.

“Just two lovers Miss Mitchell?”


There was a hint of disbelief in that rich dark voice that wrapped around Sara Mitchell’s senses once more. The riding crop crept higher, the braided shaft nestled against Sara’s labia. Slowly the General slide the braided shaft the length of those sweet dewy lips. Each pass of the crop pressed a little more deeply until each ridge of the riding crop’s shaft caressed, coaxed, and massaged the girl’s hooded clit.


“Then there is nothing to keep me from sampling your charms Miss Mitchell……….”

He paused for a moment as he continued to study the naked beauty.

“………..Sara I think, for there is no need now for such formality as Miss Mitchell as I shall get to know you quite intimately now.”

Again he paused.

“Now you would not be foolish enough to lie to me now would you Sara.”

The tormenting riding crop slipped from her an instant before Mustafa’s huge ebony hand cupped Sara’s sex and he slid a long thick finger along the sweet folds of her dewy little pussy.

“ Shall we see if you have lied to me Sara?”

Slowly that long thick finger pressed in to the girl’s tight chaste young body.

 

[Mephistophelily]

If he hadn't equated her as unexperienced in the field before, he was most likely aware of it now. Her age was too young for a seasoned reporter,something he noted lightly with a comment on her age. Sara simply sucked up her strength, trying desperately to not let the absolute fear that left her heart buried in the pit of her stomach completely overtake her.

That crop of his refused to leave her skin, pressing her cheek, her neck, drawing paths as he looked her over. It's trail against her breasts caused a weak noise to try and pull from her lips, her back stiffening a bit more as she tightened her eyes closed. His words only added to it, the shivering young woman before him feeling so helpless to everything he did.

The draw of the braided end against her sex made her whimper, the redness of her cheeks something she could even feel as he continued, letting it rake against her and finally bringing about a soft cry. He questioned her response on partners. Sara sobbed gently at his suggestion of just using her now if she had already been taken, his words backed by the sudden rough placement of his hand against her mound. She shook her head quickly, crying out again as his finger pressed into her. "S-stop, PLEASE!," She screamed, shaking her head as she started to cry. "I'm a virgin, I am- Please, stop!"

She had thought the lie would decrease the value he was so set upon fetching from her... But not that he would see it as open offers for his own use. The feel of his heavy hand against her left her shaking, hating both him and the reaction of her body to his touch. The General's thick finger threatened further press, Sara's spread legs trembling as she tried to stop her tears.

"I lied- please, don't... You'll lose all that gold, won't you? Y-you were so set on that price on me... You do this, and no one will pay what you ask!" A sudden burst of words that she shouted more to the ceiling than the man, an attempt at bravery through her fear.

 

[cgraven]

Each little whimper, each little gap that Sara tried to choke off pleased Mustafa. He smiled wickedly as he watched the young girl’s body respond the sensual caress of the supple leather. He inhaled the first intoxicating musky fragrance of Sara’s growing arousal.

"S-stop, PLEASE!,"

Sara screamed, shaking her head, her tears trickling down her soft flawless cheek.

"I'm a virgin, I am- Please, stop!"


Her desperate pleas were not necessary for from the moment that Mustafa’s finger had slipped within Sara’s tight little pussy he had known the truth. Her gorgeous young body was trembling now. The conflicting emotions and sensations that burned through the confused young virgin’s body brought forth a desperate plea for Mercy.

"I lied- please, don't... You'll lose all that gold, won't you? Y-you were so set on that price on me... You do this, and no one will pay what you ask!"


The fingers on General Kummel Mustafa’s right hand entwined into Sara Mitchell’s silken mane Her drew her moth to within a breath of his own.


“Do not resist me girl”

His mouth crushed to Sara’s silencing her pleas. His tongue forcing its way into the sweet warm cavern of Sara’s mouth, his tongue entwining with hers. That sinful unwanted kiss lingered and deepened and the finger that had slipped with in her chaste virgin body now began to slowly move in and out of her virgin pussy. God but she was tight, and Mustafa continued to finger fuck the young virgin until the tip of his finger brushed her maidenhead the thin barrier that marked Miss Sara Mitchell’s chaste innocence. He broke that unholy kiss his eyes held Sara’s in his unblinking gaze. There was a dark fire that burned in the General’s eyes as snapped back Sara’s head exposing her throat more fully to him. He bathed the bow of her throat with sensual little kisses. He explored the contours of the girl’s breasts with sensual little kisses, seductive little nips, and darkly erotic tonguing. The tip of his tongue circled Sara’s areola of her right breast. His lips closed over her taunt nipple as he suckled it greedily. Mustafa held the throbbing bud between his teeth and inhaled deeply drawing a cool stream of air across the feverous little rosebud. As he slowly pressed Sara to her knees and then to the floor. His finger still impaling her innocence now rolled her throbbing clit beneath its pad.

 

[Mephistophelily]

It hadn't worked. None of it. He simply didn't care at all on what she had to say-
She screamed out as his hand twisted into her hair, closing her eyes tightly and squirming, finding herself even more trapped between the new hand and the grip helping to keep his finger buried inside her. He pulled her down, her face barely away from his and her eyes faintly cracking open, the soft whine in her throat as he warned her further.

"Please- please, d-" She shrieked against his lips as he forced them against hers, his tongue plunging in to claim her own. She tried to push against him, to get him off her, but the General was too large a man for a small framed girl like herself... Sara's whimpers and soft cries were lost to his mouth as he continued to probe into her, managing only to gasp for breath as he pulled away, frightened still by the stare in his eyes. Her lips trembled for a moment, only to part with another sharp cry as he yanked her head back, shaking as he attacked her skin.

Her body jolted as he brought his mouth to her breast, sounds of fear and tiny pantings leaving her as she tried to keep from reacting to this horrible man and his use of her body. The continued thrust of his finger, the harsh bite of his teeth, the yank of his hand- Sara was lost, trying to escape her own head and all he caused inside her.

His hand tugged, pushed, forced her to the floor, her knees falling down against the ground first as he guided his other hand down to tease against her aching flesh. She hated herself now. This man was a devil, a horrible thing- and look what she was doing... Her body was aching for more, drawn to his hand and his touch as much, the scent of her own arousal drawn free with every stroke of his hand- as she despised every second of it. She shook her head again, screaming out as he moved and continued, wishing now she had been the one on the jeep.

 

[cgraven]

Nothing in Sara Mitchell’s young life had prepared her for what General Mustafa was doing to her or how her own treacherous young body was responding to him. He was no fumbling boyfriend in the back seat of a car, or some urbane college bow trying to impress her with his with and charm. He was a man who knew what he wanted and was not afraid to take it. Though her mind might recoil from the obscenity of it as Sara sobbed her desperate plea,

"Please- please, d-"

He had loved Sara’s pitiful little struggles the way she had fought for her honor , her chastity. Yet in the end there was no mistaking the intoxicating fragrance of her arousal as it filled both the general’s and Sara’s nostrils. Nor the wanton way that her traitorous supple young body now eagerly arched to his touch. Her gorgeous young body was a fine instrument and he was the Master of it. Mustafa turned his attention to Sara’s neglected breast and nipple and continued his sensual torment of the young virgin. When he had wrung a soul shattering gasp from her he slowly began to kiss, nip and tongue his way gown the quiver in plane of her belly. His tongue reamed out her little belly button, a seductive little nip to the soft hollow here young Miss Mitchell’s hip and thigh met. His hot moist breath washed over the girl’s shaven pussy. He lifted his soulless dark eyes to hers and it seemed as if the fires of hell danced with in them Slowly Mustafa’s head lowered and his tongue snaked out to take his first taste of the little virgin. Slowly his tongue replaced his finger and he feasted on Sara’s innocence as he lashed her succulent little pussy with mouthy lips , teeth and tongue. He drove the hapless young beauty to the very edge of that dark abyss that promised her such sinful pleasure. With a flick of his tongue Mustafa sent the tittering beauty spiraling down into that dark abyss of sinful forbidden pleasure.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Sara's cries had left. Instead, she only felt the rise and fall of her chest, the attempts at further sound, nothing left but heavy breaths and choked noises. He had taken all the fight from her not with threat, but by forcing betrayal. Her head was against it all, every horrific touch of his hand, every disgusting pass of his lips. Her body, however- it ached for more, rose and fell to his silent command.

The feel of his mouth against her previously untouched breast brought a moan to her lips, her back arching up to bring her closer to him, the tears in her eyes remaining as his actions drove her further. She wanted to get away, leave this all behind, never go back to any of it- not the News group, not the two men she had met- she wanted them to forget her, forget all this herself... The noise that left her was one that maddened her. How dare such a sound come from this man's touch-! But there it was, a loud, deep groaning gasp for air that left her shivering.

Had he just laughed? Or was it her own mind playing tricks?

He kept going, moving down her flesh, claiming it all with his mouth, marking her with his lips. Past her stomach, down further, teasing and agonizing it all out. She glanced down to find him staring up at her, as if demanding she stay watching as he traced his tongue along the path of his finger. Sara clapped her hand over her mouth, shrieking into it as he delved into her, the strong muscle flexing and twisting in, leaving Sara as a whimpering mess on his floor.

She hated him. Horrendously.
But then why were her hips raising up from the floor like that? Why did she long for more? The confusion between her head and her actions left her reeling, the hand still on her mouth as she shook her head. Stop, stop it- Stop enjoying this, what the hell is wrong with you?

 

[cgraven]

Colonel Kamal had returned and he smiled at the sight that greeted his eyes. The proud haughty Miss Sara Mitchell of INA News laying there her hand cupped over her mouth as the General feasted on her sweet innocence. He loved watching the young white beauty’s seduction as the General slowly was becoming her Master. Kamal had seen several western beauties pass through Kala Gangi but none were as young or as beautiful as the naked angel that was arching her pussy to General’s demanding mouth.

Kamal leisurely walked over to knell beside Sara. He did not say a word but merely smiled down into the girl’s passion glazed eyes. He took both her wrist and drew her hands from her mouth. His own mouth pressed to Sara’s and his tongue sought the sweetness of her moist warm mouth. Like the General Kamal was no stranger to the sensual sectets of a woman’s body. As his kiss deepened and lingered he gathered Sara Mitchell’s dainty wrists into one of his hands and stretched her arms over her head. The finger tips of his other hand brushed across her peaked throbbing nipple. Kamal rolled the taunt bud under the pad of his finger.

While the Colonel assaulted Sara’s mouth and breasts Mustafa drove his tongue deep into her virgin body. He let it fluttered over a little rough patch he found in all her moist silken perfection. Again and again the tip of Mustafa’s tongue fluttered over that sweet spot. The General and his colonel skillfully pulled the strings of their adorable little virgin puppet. A little lick here and a soft sensual gasp muffled against the colonel’s kiss. A flick of Mustafa’s tongue there and Sara pressed her sex wantonly to his mouth. They were the Masters and Sara their adorable little puppet who dance to the tune they piped. Oh she would dance for them and Miss Sara Mitchell would dance for them until her body’s final betrayal. For nothing but the young girl’s screams of shameful ecstasy, and her complete surrender to the pleasure they were wring from her gorgeous young body would satisfy her tormentors.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Sara's little cries turned to a horrified shriek as her eyes opened to find the colonel standing over her, the man's gaze set down upon her like a beast surveying prey. Her scream grew louder as he grabbed onto her wrists, yanking them free of her mouth and forcing them above her with one firm hand, his mouth muffling her sounds as he too chose to claim her lips.

His free hand roaming her breasts, teasing heavily against her raised nipples, only added to the frustrating, infuriating work of his commander. Sara jerked upward as the general found- oh god, what was he-

She howled frantically into the colonel's tongue as it forced into her mouth, muffling her sounds as she fought to control herself- an impossible fight, as the young woman's body shuddered and spasmed up against the unknown tongue that buried into it, Sara lost in the overwhelming flood of bliss and dizzying rush that poured over her as she tried to breathe.

They... They had...
The realization began to creep in as her head returned, the sweating, shivering mess that she was, having been brought about from these men giving her her first real orgasm...

She felt sick once again. Horribly ashamed of what she had done, simply going limp beneath the two.

 

[cgraven]

It was not long before Mustafa was rewarded with Sara’s wild screams of her unwanted pleasure as the hapless young beauty was engulfed by a savage orgasm. Colonel Kamal let his lips slip from hers. Yet he kept her hand captive above her head and his fingers seductive assault on Miss Mitchell’s breast and nipples continued.

Mustafa raised his head his dark evil gaze once more capturing Sara’s. His mouth and lips shimmering with the sweet dewy nectar of her shame, the undeniable proof that her treacherous gorgeous young body had truly betray her to the beast that was between her legs. Mustafa had seen that look before. The look that condemned her for the pleasure her body had grasped at the hands of her rapists. He knew well that her young mind must be confused at what had just happened to her and as a virgin, would have no real reference to the sexual hungers of her own young body. As the General gazed up Sara’s sweat shimmering body, her beauty, and raw passion were undeniable. His dark firry soulless eyes held her passion glazed eyes, he smiled as he slowly began to lower his head once more. The General held those stunningly beautiful blue eyes as his tongue snaked out once more. Then his head dropped and once more it was time for Miss Sara Mitchell to dance to the tune her captor piped.

General Kummel Mustafa and Colonel Kamal wrung a series of cascading orgasms for Sara’s gorgeous young body. They pleased her body and tortured her young mind with her own body’s betrayal of her for over two hours, until the ivory beauty fainted her body spent and exhausted. Mustafa scooped Sara Mitchell’s body into his powerful arms and carried the exhausted young beauty to his bed.

When Sara awoke, as her eyes fluttered open, she was looking into Colonel Kamal’s dark lust filled eyes, his mouth crushed to hers in a short savage kiss. Powerfull finger laced into her silken tresses and her head was snapped around to face General Mustafa.

“I see your are awake Miss Mitchell.”

He drew her closer to him as his mouth slowly lowered to hers. Sara now found herself naked and laying between Mustafa and Kamal on a huge bed.

“Tell me my little virgin are you accomplished at any sexual act?”

Again his voice and those dark soulless eyes that seemed to be able to see into the most secret corner of her innocent soul held her in their grip once more.

“Colonel I do believe you are making Miss Mitchell nervous. Leave us.”

The General waited until Kamal had closed the door behind him.

“Well Miss Mitchell… or do I have to school you in the arts of pleasure?”

Mustafa had mastered Sara body know he would master her will.

 

[Mephistophelily]

She had no dreams.
Her mind refused to play anything for her, almost as though punishing her for allowing such things to happen. No lying images of home, no pretending she had imagined the whole thing. Simply darkness of overexertion, and soreness in her body. Sara had never gone through that much in a day, let alone done anything like.... like that.

Part of her prayed that when she opened her eyes, she'd be back in her room. She'd be home, and her roomies would be there laughing over how much she had finally drank after a night dragged to a frat party...

But as soon as she opened her eyes, she found the Colonel, who immediately captured her mouth with his own and forced a kiss into her lips. She shrieked softly into it, grimacing as he yanked hold of her hair and turned her to see the General. His greeting received only a glare of fury, clawing at the bed as he kissed her as well- not the same animalistic force as his underling, but unwanted just the same. She let out a furious sound as he pulled away, trying to push herself further up the bed like a frightened dog baring its teeth.

It didn't seem to phase him at all, carrying out his words with the same nonchalant tone.

“Tell me my little virgin are you accomplished at any sexual act?”

She didn't say a word, simply glared between the two. What they had done left her even more angered than before, now wanting to refuse to say a word. Her heart felt like it hadn't stopped the racing beat since all this had began, her mind raging through all her anger and fury. She wondered if she could find the strength to bite one of them if they tried to kiss her again-
Or the 'acts' the General inquired about, a second attempt to get her answer happening again.

She shook her head furiously, clutching at the top of the bed. Sara refused to open her mouth, to say a single word.