"Duty" {Uther} (Mf rape viol) 

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This material is Copyright, 1996, Uther Pendragon.  All rights 
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All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as  
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination  
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly  
coincidental. 
  
                              ____  

                              Duty 
                            by Uther 
                            Pendragon 
                     nogardneprethu@gmail.com


Daughter?  No that is a very old snapshot.  I keep it on 
top of my desk to remind me of what it cost me sit at this desk.  
People in your country think that we grind the peasants and live 
without a care.  That is not true.  Military people like myself 
keep this country together.  And before we received positions of 
leadership, our predecessors made sure we had the same dedication 
that they displayed.  I test the younger officers for dedication, 
as well.  I pray that they will continue the dedication and the 
testing. 

When I took this picture I was a new first lieutenant.  I had 
been through one minor campaign in the South and studied at your 
School of the Americas.  Then I was sent to command a platoon in 
the West where the real fighting was. 

We swept up to one village in helicopters.  They tried to run 
but we landed on all four sides.  We followed standard 
procedures, moving everyone into the square, tying the men and 
boys, lining them all up, searching the houses. 

My captain asked several matrons where their husbands were.  
When one couldn't answer, he knew he had the wife of a rebel.  
The second in command had a taste for young girls.  Once I'd made 
my choice, rank wouldn't override it.  I reached Consuela, the 
girl in the picture, before the soldiers had dragged a bed out of 
the largest house.  I spoke to her while they were tying the 
matron to the corners of the bed. 

"Do you want that?"  Clearly she didn't.  "I could take you 
there in front of everybody.  Your fiance would know that you 
resisted."  I assumed she had a fiance or intended.  I also 
assumed he was with the rebels.   There were five women thirteen 
to thirty for every man that age. 

Tears were streaming down her face while the matron was 
stripped.   "Please, please, no."  The captain got between the 
matrons legs and enjoyed her struggles for a moment.  Soon, 
however, he signaled the man with the cattle prod.  The shock 
hits them so hard that they take a moment to scream, and he 
entered her in that pause.  From where the prisoners stood, it 
looked as though his entry had caused that scream. 

"I could take you there.  Do you want that, or do you want to 
be my sweetheart.  We can be alone in a house, only I will see 
your body, I'll be gentle with you, your friends and family won't 
see a thing.  Is that what you want?"  She was looking hopeful.  
"Would you rather be my sweetheart?   I have to hear you say 
it." 

She nodded.  I waited.  "I will be your sweetheart." 

"Then you have to act the part of a sweetheart, you have to 
court me as I court you."  She nodded again and hung her head.  I 
didn't push for words that time. 

During my study in your country, I learned many things;  but 
this, the most important, I learned in a social setting rather 
than a classroom.  I saw an instructor's wife deal with her son.  
"Do you want to take Fuzzy Bear to bed with you, or Snoopy?"  
Clearly, the boy didn't want to go to bed at all.  But, given a 
choice, he made a choice.  That is how to deal with these girls.  
Give them a choice.  Then they are participating.  She asked me 
to take her virginity in privacy. 

I asked her what house had been her family's and told the 
first sergeant to assign it to me.  Since it was far from the 
best, no one would object. 

My platoon was left in the village while two others marched 
off into the forest, and a third provided cover.  Duty took me 
away from Consuela for a while, but my platoon provided the guard 
over the women.  They wouldn't 'forget' that I had claimed her 
for my own. 

After dinner, I set my sentries and then went to fetch her.  
On the short walk to her old house I asked her age, and she told 
me that she was three months shy of sixteen.  After she showed me 
which bed had been hers, I set a bright electric lantern to light 
that area.  She helped me off with my boots and shirt.  Then it 
was time for her to undress.  She was reluctant. 

"If I have to tie you down, it will be on the bed in the 
square.  And I can still gather an audience."  This started her 
moving, but she still blushed deeply.  By the time she was naked, 
the blush had reached her breasts.  These were somewhat larger 
than you would expect for fifteen, but still had the firmness of 
that age.  Once she was naked, she hurried into the bed.  Before 
I could follow her, there was a shriek from down the street.  
Someone was moving faster than I. 

This stiffened her body while it quelled any interest she had 
in conscious resistance.  "Please be gentle," she begged. 

"I will be gentle, but you must cooperate.  Gentleness cannot 
work if you fight everything."  She lay there accepting my mouth 
on hers and my hands on her breasts.  I kissed her mouth and 
sucked her breasts.  There was a small tussle when I parted her 
legs, but it was more within her than between us.  What I found 
between those legs, however, was nearly dry.  In the end, my 
gentleness consisted mostly of spreading Vaseline. 

When I was against her entry, I felt that muscles weren't the 
only tightness resisting me.  It was no surprise.  Those village 
mothers try hard to guard a daughter's virginity.  By this time 
there were at least two others down the street sobbing hard 
enough for us to hear.  "It hurts much less if you push back 
against me," I told her.  She nodded and started to raise 
herself.  Then I drove in.  I tore her and lodged myself halfway 
in with that first thrust.  She cried out but not loud enough to 
be heard down the street.  "That was the worst of it," I said.  I 
waited while she tensed for the next thrust and while she 
relaxed.  Then I thrust to the bottom. 

Fully within her, I took time to kiss away her tears.  "That 
hurt," she said. 

"I never said that it wouldn't.  You knew it would.  It hurts 
every woman the first time.  But do you think that you hurt as 
much as those you hear crying?" 

"Not really." 

"I did what hurts least, and I told you how to make it better.  
Now I'm going to start moving again.  Do you want it to last, or 
do you want it to be over quickly?" 

"Please, as soon as possible." 

"Then you have to cooperate now.  You have to widen your legs 
so I can move freely.  Hold my thighs and pull me to you.  That 
way it will end quickly." 

I kissed her before I began moving.  She whimpered a little as 
my organ brushed her torn flesh, but she sucked my tongue as I 
drove back and forth in that tight, newly opened, tunnel.  True 
to my word, I made no effort to hold back.  I sped up as soon as 
she relaxed enough to let me, and soon I drove all the way into 
those depths again and pulsed within her. 

Despite what I said about tying her down, I took the 
precaution of handcuffing one arm to the bed frame.  She slept in 
my arms all night. 

One must balance the physical with the psychological.  That 
conquest had been a glory in both senses.  I had controlled her, 
occupied her mind -- as we occupied the villages -- before 
occupying her body.  She was mine, body and soul.  The feeling of 
victory as I burst into her was as heady as the feeling of 
friction.  The tightness was more than physical.  The release had 
been as mental as it had been glandular.  I felt myself beginning 
to swell again as I fell asleep holding my conquest. 

With such thoughts in my mind and such delightful warmth 
against my body, it was no wonder that I was stiff again in the 
morning.  "Do you want me to keep being gentle with you?" I 
asked.  She nodded.  "Then you must act to reduce my lust."  I 
told her more about oral sex than she was going to remember.  She 
knelt down and took me in her mouth.  There is pleasure that 
comes from expertise, but there is another pleasure which comes 
from being first. 

She kissed and licked the head at my direction and then took 
it into her mouth.  It was warm and moist, an echo and a promise.  
I made sure that her lips and tongue were protecting me from her 
teeth.  Then I provided the movement.  Knowing that she had never 
had a man in her mouth before was as exciting as the warm, 
smooth, friction.  I moved in and out slowly as long as I could.  
"Suck!" I told her.  Then I increased my speed until I lost all 
control.  I thrust into that upper cavern until she gagged, and 
then spilled my seed into her mouth.  She, in turn, spilled it 
out.  I made no objection.  I have never understood why you 
Yanquis see a virtue in the woman swallowing. 

When she had herself under control, I told her to clean up the 
mess and herself.  By the time I returned her to the guard on the 
women no external sign told of her experience in the past 
night. 

Our strange courtship proceeded from there.  We never 
pretended that we were not enemies, but we were man and woman 
sleeping together.  After that night, I moved us onto the bed of 
her parents.  The memory of pain had to compete with the memory 
of rustling sheets and creaking bed.  She soon was moist for my 
petting.  I taught her to kiss me back, and I taught her to put 
me in her. 

By the end of the first week, she was responding more and more 
to my caresses.  The evenings were quieter, as well.  Only the 
senior lieutenant's girls were crying loudly enough to be heard.  
That evening, I spent a long time kissing her mouth and face and 
breasts.  I was stroking her lower lips at the same time.  She 
began rocking her hips and tightening up.  She knew what was 
coming and fought it.  She didn't fight me, however, and I kept 
stroking her and sucking her nipples until she had an orgasm.   
She blushed as deeply as she had when she stripped the first 
time.  "You really are my sweetheart," I said.  "Put my cock in 
you." 

She turned her head away and cried, but her hand was gentle 
and warm as it obeyed me.  Her tunnel, too, was hotter and wetter 
than I had ever known it to be.  It was still tight, but the 
tension that I had guessed was resistance was now gone.  I held 
back as long as I could to appreciate the liquid velvet that I 
was moving within.  Then I plunged to her utter depths as I 
pulsed my seed into that warmth.  Once done, I did not withdraw.   
Rather I lay on her and kissed the tears off her face.  Only when 
I had shrunk and come out naturally, did I cuff her to the 
bedstead and cuddle beside her. 

That morning, I began petting her as soon as I was awake.  She 
resisted more than she had the night before.  At last, however, 
she was moving and breathing as she had just before her orgasm.  
Then I entered her.  This brought more resistance, but one hand 
was still handcuffed to the bed frame.  I was in her, and moved 
through warmth, and wetness, and her unwilling tightening.  I 
stroked the little bud an inch above her tunnel.  She contracted 
around me and gasped out.  While she had her completion and cried 
in shame, I stroked slowly to my own.  The crying provided almost 
as much motion around my organ as the climax had.  I finally 
shook and collapsed onto her. 

"I hate myself," she said. 

"You shouldn't.  You are keeping your word.  You 
*promised* to be my sweetheart." 

"I didn't mean it." 

"Do you want to be on the bed in the street and have all my 
platoon fuck you one after the other?" 

"Would you do that to me?" 

"No, I wouldn't.  That is because I keep my word.  Then you 
try to break yours." 

"I won't do that again." 

"Admit that you are my sweetheart.  Remember it.  Being my 
sweetheart protects you.  You enjoy it too.  You don't have to 
tell anyone else.  But in this bed with me, you have to stop 
denying it." 

It took me two more days, but she came around.  She kissed me 
back, kissed my face and nipples, thanked me -- rather than 
cursing herself -- for the pleasure she received while I was 
within her.  I took the picture soon after that.  Doesn't she 
look enticing?  We were both very happy that day. 

I had expected our company to stay in that village for a 
month, but orders to move out came two days after I took the 
picture.  The tactic of taking the home villages of the rebels 
had worked.  They were fighting set battles around another 
village, and the company was needed there.  We were ordered to 
move out in the morning.  Camp followers were clearly 
impossible. 

Our last night together was bittersweet.  She must have known 
something.  Perhaps she sensed my mood, perhaps she had heard 
something.  Military secrecy is an ideal which is seldom 
achieved.  Anyway, she was more eager to please than ever before, 
kissing me with real passion, responding to my caresses with 
motions and moans.  I took longer than ever before, as well.  I 
knew that I would never kiss those breasts again, and I kissed 
each one all over before I reached the bright, hard nipple on 
top.  I spent a long time on each of those, licking, then 
sucking, then licking again. 

She was flowing down below.  I spread this lubrication over 
her entire valley.  Finally, I bathed my member in it, repeatedly 
rubbing it along the whole groove and especially against the 
little nubbin on top.  I was reluctant to bring this to its 
conclusion, however delightful.  She was begging me to enter her 
before I finally let go of her hands.  She placed me in her entry 
and pulled me into her. 

Almost immediately, she had a climax.  I rode it out, the 
first time I had done that with any woman.  Then I stroked within 
her tight, smooth wetness until she was ready again.  She was 
throwing herself against me when I thrust her back down to the 
mattress and exploded within her own explosion.  I lay in her and 
on her for a quarter of an hour before I had the strength to move 
off.  I put the handcuffs on and held her tight to me for the 
whole night. 

I had expected that to be my last time within her and that the 
morning would provide one more time of pleasure in her mouth, at 
best.  Instead she woke me early and nearly pulled me inside.  
That was a quiet, slow, strangely sweet experience.  By the time 
we finished, nearly together, my morning duties were about to 
begin.  While she was still in the cuff, I told her about the 
company moving out.  I explained why I couldn't take her with me, 
but she didn't really understand. 

What does the English poem say?  "I could not love thee half 
so much, loved I not duty more"?  Something like that. 

Anyway, that morning was our last time together.  But no 
relationship since has ever been that intense for me.  That is 
one reason that I keep that picture.  Also it reminds me of what 
I have given up for the sake of duty. 

I think, though, that I would remember her always, even 
without the picture.  That's because she blushed so hard before I 
first saw her naked, and pushed back so bravely before I burst 
her hymen, and cried so piteously before I shot her. 


     The End 
     Duty 
     Uther Pendragon 
     nogardneprethu@gmail.com
     2002/02/25
     2004/04/12
     2010/06/21


For a quite different story of a woman losing 
her virginity under quite different 
circumstances, see:
rampant.txt 
"Rampant"  


The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr.org/~Uther_Pendragon/index.htm