Prisoners of War

"The prisoners are here, Sir." Hearing these words, he sat down his glass of buttermilk and stood up as Joe, his sergeant, entered and approached, leading his fine soldiers and their enemy prisoners.

He echoed Joe's salute, and inspected the soldiers and their prisoners they led, their arms tied behind their backs. "Great job, men!" He meant it. His men were intelligent, unlike the enemy whom they had captured.

These subhuman slime would be properly punished, this time. He would make sure of it himself. They were guilty of Apostasy; there was no worse crime on God's green earth. He would fustigate them well, with no mere Pogo-on-a-stick, this time.

The presence of his friend Daphne -- no, his *quondam* friend, Daphne, he gleefully reminded himself; Daphne was no longer any friend of *his* -- in no way reduced his gloating, his sense of Schadenfreude, over the punishment to come.

Taking another sip of buttermilk, he walked up and down the line of prisoners, looking each one in the eye, trying to glean as much a sense of the terror the prisoners were sure to feel now. He paused at Daphne, to stare her in the eyes. She stared back at him insolently. In fact, none of the prisoners seemed display any sense of the terror they ought to feel -- not even Lucy, the shyest girl of them all. Didn't they know him? Didn't they know the punishment they were going to undergo? How could they be so calm in the face of unimaginable torments?

He walked to the large rock, on which an assortment of switches and paddles lay. He selected one paddle to start with, and called out to Daphne. Daphne approached with an insolent swagger, emphasized by her arms tied behind her back. By the time he finished with her, she'd no longer swagger like that.

He reached down and took another sip of buttermilk. "You know you're to be punished?" He asked Daphne sternly. Daphne stuck out her face and said nothing. He showed her the paddle. "Do you know how you're going to be punished?"

"You're going to spank me?"

"Yes!" Smart girl! "What else?"

"Ummm, my legs will be tied together?"

That was a good idea. "Sergeant, get me a piece of rope." He quickly wrapped the rope about Daphne's feet and tied it tight.

"What else?" He continued, taunting her.

"You're going to untie my arms?"

"You've earned at least two more paddlings for that bit of insolence. Now answer me properly."

"Umm, you're going to lift up my dress?"

"Indeed. But that's not all. What else?"

"Er, um, uh, you're going to pull down my panties?"

"That's right!" He drawled. Daphne wasn't so stupid after all. He reached down and lifted up Daphne's navy-blue dress. Wow, white panties with tiny yellow bears. Sissy stuff, just like a girl would wear. He shouted to everyone, "Hey, men. Look at her panties!"

He knelt down to get a closer look. It was awkward holding her dress up, so he let it flop down over his head. It was dark, but there was still enough light to see with. He felt Daphne fidgeting with her hands behind her back. "Hold still," he snapped, and Daphne stopped moving.

He reached up and took both sides of the hem of her panties, and slid them down. There it was, the gorgeous, lovely bun which he was oh-so-rarely privileged to view on any girl. He could hardly believe he was doing this, and his breath came in short gasps. He had to show it to everyone. He slid her panties down to her ankles, and stood up, lifting her dress back up.

"Now, turn around slowly, my dear." Taking tiny rotating steps with her feet, Daphne turned to face the soldiers and the prisoners.

After taking another sip of buttermilk, he took the paddle and swatted Daphne's butt. Daphne shrieked, a light shriek that didn't sound nearly pained enough. It sounded almost like a laugh, even. He swatted her again, and again, and again, but she was almost giggling with every swat. He swatted her harder and harder, but the harder he swatted, the more Daphne shrieked and laughed, shouting, "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" He couldn't understand it. What was wrong with Daphne -- did she actually like it?

Okay, he stopped a moment and dropped the paddle in exchange for a switch. "Don't stop now!" exclaimed Daphne, which puzzled him more and more. He struck her with the switch, "YEAH!!" she shrieked and laughed. He switched her again, and again.

He finally stopped after awhile, when he noticed she was out of breath. Her butt was all bright pink, with marks scattered about. He let down her dress, wondering, had he done too much?

He didn't wonder for long, because suddenly he was on the ground with his feet and hands pinned down. Daphne was over him, laughing gleefully and swiftly tying his wrists and ankles together with the rope from which she had somehow freed her wrists and ankles. He was powerless.

"Sergeant Joe! Men! Help! Save me!" He could only see out the corner of his eyes his men and the girls they held prisoner laughing and doing nothing to help him.

His arms were hooked way over his head, on something -- he couldn't see what. Daphne sat astride his knees, and pulled down his shorts and underpants. He couldn't be more mortified than he already was.

Or couldn't he? Daphne took his thing and twisted the head about. "Aww, that little wiener's so cute," Daphne mocked. "Almost as big as my baby brother's." He felt it getting hard and sticking out; why it always did that, he had no idea.

"Now turn over," Daphne turned him over forcefully. What was she going to do to him? "Now, you're going to learn what true suffering is." She slid his shorts down as far as they would go, and his tee shirt up over his head. He couldn't see anything. He wondered what she was going to do to him. Would she paddle him?

No, not that. Far worse. She started tickling him. "No, no!" he gasped, in vain. She tickled him all over his body, under his arms, down his back, behind his knees; and once one hand slid down between his legs and tickled him there. That was awful! There was nothing he could do.

"Turn over," she order him, as she turned him over again. She tickled him some more, down his front. No part of him was spared her merciless touch. There was nothing he could do about it, and his men weren't helping him. Instead, they were all standing around him, laughing at him, laughing at *his* suffering. How could they do that to him? Betrayed, by his own men!

At that time, a voice called from the distance. "Bedtime, Dan!" Dan gasped. It sounded like Dad was approaching their clearing, and he tried to move. He couldn't be caught by his Dad like this, especially with girls around. Fortunately, Daphne quickly untied his wrists and ankles. He jumped up and pulled his shorts up and his shirt down.

Daphne seemed to be all fixed up, too. Dan looked over at her, wondering how the heck she'd escaped the ropes. He started toward the path back down to his house. As if she read his mind, she answered, "There are plenty of uses for a Skate-key."

The END