POW1.TXT -- 1/5
      M/F, MILITARY, WAR, CAPTURE, RAPE, NC, BONDAGE, GANG, HUMIL, TORTURE

DISCLAIMER; This story includes descriptions of rape, torture, and bondage. If
descriptions of sexual activity, particularly non-consenual sexual activity,
offend you, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. IF YOU'RE UNDER TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF AGE, DO
NOT READ THIS STORY.

DANGER: THIS STORY IS POLITICALLY INCORRECT. This is a work of fiction; any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This story may be electronically reproduced and distributed where the laws
allow so long as it is not changed in any way. I've appreciated the comments
and suggestions I've received from readers and welcome further comments. All
flames will be ignored.

INTRODUCTION: Largely because of the scandal caused by the Navy's 1991
"Tailhook" convention, the ban on women flying U.S. combat aircraft was lifted
on 28 April, 1993. This story is a "what-if" look at what might have happened
if "Tailhook" had happened before the 1991 Gulf War and as a result women had
flown combat aircraft during that war.

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                            The Mother of All Rapes
                                   by Conwic
                                 conwic@aol.com

                                    Part #1

      It was the second day of the air war and Air Force Major Diana Barker was
feeling very unhappy. Part of this was attributable to the fact that she was
sitting in the back of an Iraqi army truck with her hands tied behind her back
and a bag over her head. She was thirsty, her body ached from the jolt she
received when she ejected from her F-16, and she was afraid. But most of all,
she was pissed because she knew that she had blown it. After all the hype, the
first woman combat pilot had let herself get shot down on her first combat
mission. All she could think of was how this was going to screw up her plans
for getting a star. She had spent the last ten years of her life working toward
that goal.

      She had used every resource at her command to get ahead in the air force,
discovering in her first year at the academy that it was not so much a case of
how good you were as how well you could manipulate the system. She soon
realized that the Air Force's equal opportunity program was the perfect "ticket
to ride" for someone like herself with a lot of ambition and few scruples.
Those superiors she couldn't or wouldn't fuck, she blackmailed.

      As a woman, the pressure on her superiors to ensure that she succeeded
was already great; adding the threat to file a sexual harassment complaint made
it irresistible. This attitude earned her the nickname of "Nutcracker." Instead
of angering her, Diana was proud of the nickname, so proud that she used it as
her radio callsign. A year ago when the Air Force opened fighters to women, she
had been an obscure if talented captain flying C-141 transports. Now at 32,
Diana Barker was a high speed, low drag major and the darling of the media.
Unfortunately, the media demands of her "superstar" status had not left her the
time or the inclination to master mundane matters like counter-SAM drills.

      As she rode, Diana began to think that she could come out of this OK.
Aside from some groping by the soldiers guarding her, no one had mistreated
her. Nor was she the type to be afraid of a little "grab-ass." Diana was almost
six feet tall with the buff physique of a body builder combined with a 36"
chest. She was proud of her body; like everything about her from her short and
sassy haircut to her choice of cars, it was part of the "Top Gun" image she had
created for herself.

      Diana could feel the change as the truck moved on to a hardtop road and
hours later could detect the increase in sounds as they entered a city. She
surmised that she must be in Baghdad. Eventually she felt the truck stop and
she was hustled out and into a building. There was some conversation in Arabic
which she could not understand and then more walking, this time down some
stairs and through numerous doors which clanked ominously behind her. When the
guards released her arms and spoke, Diana could see light through the bottom of
the bag covering her head and sense the presence of several other men in the
room besides her escorts. Diana was very proud of how tough she had been at the
Air Force's survival, escape, and evasion school. She thought she could handle
a camel jockey.

      Watching her from his seat was Captain Vahid Yazeed of Saddam's special
security service, one of his most promising young torturers. He had been
personally selected by the Great Leader to break the first American pilots
captured and turn them into propaganda weapons. Yazeed understood that the
information he extracted was of minor importance. His job was to break the
pilots' will, so that they would be pliable tools in the battle for American
public opinion which would be waged using their own media. Though he was
surprised that the first POW was a woman, it made no difference in his orders
and made the task that much more appealing to him. A through sadist, Yazeed had
been eagerly anticipating watching his men rape an American male pilot. Now
that he had a female pilot to work on, he looked forward to participating in
the rape as well. For rape was a primary tool of his trade, used to break the
subject, man or woman, psychologically.

      Although he had tortured Iraqi and Kurdish women, Diana would be his
first Western female. Yazeed found the idea of having such a woman under his
control very exciting.

      "Strip her," ordered Yazeed as he leaned back in his chair and watched.

      The guards untied Diana's hands and unzipped her flight suit, then pulled
it off her and set it carefully aside. Then they ripped off her T shirt, bra
and panties, leaving her nude but for her combat boots, dog tags, and the bag
covering her head. Diana did not try to resist them; instead she concentrated
on breathing slowly and calmly. She had been told to expect this in survival
school. Stripping a person of their clothes was meant to stripped them of their
confidence, her instructors had told her. Still, knowing that didn't make her
feel any braver right now.

      Yazeed examined her body at length. He found the large breasts with their
little finger size nipples to be fascinating. The breasts and particularly the
nipples were a very sensitive area for a woman. He would enjoy working on a
woman so amply endowed.

      Her muscular body was foreign to an Arab but nevertheless appealing. Not
only did it arouse him, but it would serve his purposes well since she could
suffer longer before she reached her physical limit. Only her neatly trimmed
pubic hair repelled him.

      Unlike this Western slut, respectable Arab women shaved their pubic hair.
Though he knew that he should wait longer to let the humiliation of standing
nude before unseen men play upon her, Yazeed could not wait to see her face.
Half afraid he would find an ugly hag, he ordered the bag removed from her
head. He was pleased to find a beautiful, mature face framed by reddish brown
hair.

      Diana remained at attention when the guard pulled off the bag.

      Unaccustomed to the bright lights, she could see nothing until her eyes
adjusted. Then she saw two men in front of her. One was seated; he was a clean
shaven man about her age wearing a well tailored officer's uniform whose rank
she did not recognize. Standing behind him in the classic flunky position was a
younger, very worried looking man in a shabby uniform.

      Diana ignored him and concentrated on the officer. She could sense the
presence of her guards behind her but ignored them as well.

      Yazeed spoke briefly. The younger man standing behind him translated,
"You are in the custody of the security service. You are not a prisoner of war
but a criminal guilty of crimes against the state of Iraq and will be treated
accordingly. Your only hope for leniency is to cooperate fully."

      "I am Major Diana Barker, serial number 309-48-8221, United States Air
Force. I demand to be treated as a prisoner of war. What you are doing is
contrary to the Geneva Convention; you could be tried as a war criminal for
mistreating a prisoner"

      It sounded a little pompous, but Diana was just pleased to have gotten
through it without her voice breaking. She had to make this man understand that
she was someone he couldn't push around.

      At a nod of Yazeed's head the guard to her right jabbed her hard in the
kidney with a short wooden club, sending her to the floor doubled up in pain.
As she lay there, she dimly heard the translator tell her that the Captain did
not like speeches other than his own. Another order from Yazeed had the guard
haul her to her feet by her hair.

      Yazeed spoke at length before the translator turned to her and said, "The
Captain says that your country is foolish to use women in its air force and to
use them in a war. That you will be the one to pay the price for your country's
foolish ideas. Being a woman will not protect you. Nor will the Geneva
Convention protect you here. What is your unit, your base location, and what
was your mission?"

      Diana glared at the seated officer as she replied, "Barker, Diana, Major,
USAF, serial number 309-48-8221. I demand to speak to a senior officer." As she
finished her reply, a nod from Yazeed again brought a painful jab from the
guard behind her. She kept her feet this time but saw stars. As she resumed her
position of attention, the Iraqi officer left his chair and stood in front of
her. To her disgust, he began running his hands over her breasts, weighing the
heavy globes in his hands. As she clinched her fist in helpless fury, he smiled
unpleasantly and spoke to the translator, giving his words emphasis by twisting
her nipples.

      "The Captain says that you are a foolish woman who thinks that she is
going to a tea party, not a war. He says that you will not be so uncooperative
after the guards have finished with you. He says that the guards will enjoy
raping you. They have never had a Western woman before and are curious if what
they have heard of the insatiable sexual appetite of Western women is true." As
he continued, the young man's anxious expression gave way to one of real fear.
"Remember that you are totally in his hands to do with as he wishes; no one can
help you here. If you do not obey him and answer all his questions, he will do
terrible things to you. Please, what is your unit, your base, and your
mission?"

      Diana hesitated. She was not prepared for the crude direct approach of
the Iraqi Captain. She had expected captivity to be mostly mind games just as
it had been at her training course. But her training wasn't the real world of
the middle East. Now, things were moving too fast for her. She felt she had to
slow things down, pretend to give in to gain time. This sort of information was
of little value anyway; certainly not worth a gang rape.

      She replied, "I am from the 417th Tactical Fighter Squadron, 250th
Tactical Fighter Wing which is based at Dhahran. I was flying an aircap when
the missile hit me." Diana's face burned as she spoke. She was ashamed that she
had given in so soon; but since the information was all lies she knew it would
do no harm.

      Yazeed listened to the translation, consulted a black notebook, and then
turned to Diana with a chilling smile. The translator listened to him and
said," The Captain says that you are a poor liar. We are not stupid; we have
CNN here too. We saw the reporter do his story about your loss. Some of our
pilots spent a lot of time in Saudi Arabia when we were fighting the accused
Iranians. They tell us that the base he broadcast from was Al Mindhat not
Dhahran; the buildings are quite different. Nor is there any 417th fighter
squadron or 250th fighter wing listed for your active air force. The Captain
now intends to teach you a lesson in what happens when you lie to him."

      Yazeed stepped back and gave an order to the guards. They grabbed her
arms and dragged her to a long bar hanging from the ceiling. A sharp blow to
the stomach precluded resistance on Diana's part as they secured her hands in
manacles at the ends of the bar. Then the two men grabbed her muscular legs and
bent them back until the lower legs were a foot above and parallel to the
floor. A sharp order to the translator sent him to help the two guards by tying
a rope around her booted feet and then to the ends of the bar. In a moment,
Diana hung from the ceiling, her muscular arms supporting her entire weight,
with her legs tied like the short leg of an "L" behind her. As she cursed the
Iraqi guards, one of them held a bottle of clear fluid to her mouth while the
second guard used his fingers to close off her nose. As Diana choked and
sputtered, they poured the vile tasting fluid down her all the while laughing.
Even the translator seemed amused as he told her, "The bottle held a powerful
laxative. The Captain says that now you will not be so full of shit."

      The guards then gagged her with a rubber ball gag, patted her ass, and
left; Captain Yazeed and his translator remained. The officer stood in front of
Diana, caressing her prominent nipples again. He began twisting the sensitive
flesh with his strong fingers as he stared into her face. He worked on them one
at a time, twisting and squeezing the nubs until they hardened involuntarily.
The twisting was no more painful than foreplay but it was humiliating to Diana
to have this man use her body so casually. When he was satisfied with the
erectness of her nipples, Yazeed brought a pair of small metal clamps,
alligator clips actually from a voltage meter, out of his pocket. The clamps
had serrated teeth and a powerful spring. He placed each carefully on her
elongated nipples and then released both at once. The sharp teeth bit down into
the tender flesh of Diana's nipples, drawing tiny drops of blood almost
instantly. Diana screamed into her gag as the two clips bit into her nipples.
The pain was overwhelming; for a moment she thought her nipples had been cut
off. Then Yazeed took a roll of thick green tape and tore off a strip about six
inches long. Without a word, he smoothed it down over her pubic hair.

      Looking her in the face, he ripped the tape off her. Diana's head went
back as another sharp pain shot up her body. Dimly she realized that he was
pulling her pubic hair off.

      Yazeed confirmed this for her as he held up the tape with a handful of
her short hairs attached and grinned. The Iraqi officer varied the way he
pulled each piece of tape off; sometimes pulling slowly so that she felt every
hair pull out and sometimes quickly so that she didn't feel the pain until he
was holding the tape up for her inspection.

      Eventually he was satisfied by the now hairless vee between her spread
legs. He tore off one last piece.

      This one went over her anus so that she could not excrete anything until
it was removed.

      Then the officer and his flunky left as well, leaving Diana alone with
her pain.

      Diana knew that they were going to rape her. The use of the laxative made
it obvious that they intended to sodomize her. She had never allowed anyone to
take her in the ass. The thought of one or more of them using her in that way
terrified her. She could have tolerated normal intercourse, but not sodomy.
Visions of her anal rape began running unbidden through her mind, accented by
the pain of the clamps biting into her sensitive nipples and the strain of her
weight pulling on her arm muscles.

                               END -- Part 1 of 5