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Subject: ** New Spoonbender - Anthrax (forced masturbation, spy thriller)
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Anthrax (forced masturbation, spy thriller)

************************************************
(c) 1998 Spoonbender.  A short story of an adult nature.  Not to
be read by minors.  If you don't like this sort of stuff or you
are underage then don't read.  Contains allusions to naughty,
erotic goings on.  Can be freely distributed as long as it is not
changed, including this heading.  If it is to be archived on a
fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. 
Note that the characterisations are mine.  I do not like people
stealing them for inclusion in their own efforts.  The exception
is, of course, Saddam Hussein and you're welcome to him!

Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies
you want put into words etc.  Don't flame me if you don't like
the content or you don't like my style.   Thanks to Frederick
Forsyth for the inspiration and background detail also thanks 
to Daine for the excellent Editing

This is my first attempt at a spy thriller (with sexual
overtones, I might add).  Tell me what you think. My email is
theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk

**********************************************

"You sent for me, Your Excellency?" The scientist tried to still
his thundering heart as he stood before the vicious dictator,
whose famous chromed pistol gleamed menacingly in its holster.

The moustachioed figure, smiling benignly but with a hint of
underlying menace, waved airily to a seat before the altar-like
desk.  

"How is the research going?" he asked mildly when the scientist
was perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair.

"Fine", said Rais, "We have eliminated most of the problems and
the new, er, weapon is almost ready for use."

"Almost?" The raised eyebrows conveyed a world of horrific
terror.

The scientist gulped audibly.  

"The biological weapon itself surpasses our expectations.  But we do 
have a problem with the delivery system."

The eyebrows knitted.  

"The delivery system? Do we not have Al-Abeid?"

The scientist was suddenly chillingly aware that he had become
one of the few confidants of the existence of the Qa'ala, the
fortress in the heart of the hills of Jebal Hamreen above Kifri. 
The fortress that contained two of the most powerful guns ever to
be assembled called the Al-Abeid, the believers.  Designed by the
legendary Canadian, Gerry Bull, they were each capable of hurling
a missile into low space, despite the frantic denials of the CIA
and Mossad.  Now he officially knew and so he had become
inextricably linked to the success of the project.  If it failed
then he could expect the cold summons from Omar Khatib, the
President's much feared Secret Police Chief.  It, like many such
trips undertaken before by his unfortunate countrymen, would 
consist of a one way trip to Abu Ghraib, the prison run by the
feared AMAM secret Police.

A humble but brilliant scientist, like many of his fellow
countrymen, he had been developing a new biological weapon so
terrifying that he himself woke at night in cold sweats thinking
about it.  But one that required careful handling.  Very careful
handling.  And this was what was causing him his most concern. 
If it were not handled right then it could erupt prematurely with
catastrophic consequences.

Now he struggled to explain, rationally, his problems to someone
who only cared about results.  He took a deep breath.

"When I say the delivery system, I mean the method of
transporting the agent from our laboratories out into the field
where it is to be used.  It requires very careful, and specific
handling, or it may cause us serious problems."

"What sort of handling?"

"For a start it must be kept at body temperature.   It must be
constantly shaken and every two hours it must be kneaded, like
bread, or its consistency will thicken.  And with the rise in
viscosity will come a corresponding rise in possible explosive
failure."

"You are working on this problem?"

"Of course," said Rais.   "We have identified a possible method
of transportation.  But....."  He tailed off lamely.  Even he
couldn't imagine the President would stoop that low.

"But what?" The President was obviously becoming irritated, which
didn't bode well for the immediate future.

"The only reliable method of transportation that we have
identified is, er, inside the vagina of a woman." 

There, he'd said it.  Now he must live with the consequences.  
The dictator regarded him with dark, staring eyes.

"And you are sure this will work?"

"Oh yes,"  said Rais.  "Our tests have proved it."

"Then I see no problem."

"But what about the ...er..  host?"

"Ask Omar Khatib.  He will have a suitable candidate." He paused,
then his face lit up in a rare show of genuine happiness.  "Wait,
didn't we arrest that American spy last week?"

"American spy?" said the puzzled scientist.

"The so-called reporter.  Snooping around one of my palaces.  I
think we have found our candidate.  I will tell Omar Khatib to
make the preparation.  You, meanwhile, will ensure that the
weapon is ready on time.  Do you understand?"

The scientist nodded frantically.  He understood all right.  It
would be ready, come what may.

***********************************************
Keri-May Wilkins fretted in her cold, dank cell, cursing her bad
luck and worrying about the future in equal measure.  

The newest reporter on the middle east circuit and also one of
the brightest, she had graduated summe cum laude in modern
languages from a prestigious east coast university. Her
proficiency in Arabic, and particularly the dialect of the Marsh
Arabs in the south of Iraq, had brought her to the attention of a
fast-rising media Baron who could see that Iraq would again
become an explosive flash point in the powder keg of the middle
east.  And who wanted, lusted after, a serious presence on the
ground there.  So Keri-May found herself working out of the
bureau's Rhiyadh office, chafing amongst the paper clips as the
men dashed off on glamorous assignments.

For her, unlike many other women, her looks were a positive
hindrance.  A natural blond, with a firm, athletic body and an
almost angelic face, she had often got mistaken for one of the
corporate bimbos who dropped their panties at the slightest
chance of appearing in front of a camera.  She called them 'News
Screws', which earned her their undying enmity.  She shrugged it
off, her dynamism being focused elsewhere.

So when she heard a couple of Iraqi refugees talking in the local
souk oblivious to the fact that she may actually understand their
language, she decided to approach her bureau chief, with a view
to being sent on a special assignment into the heart of Iraq.  To
find the place where the chemical weapons were being stored, away
from the prying eyes of the UN Weapons Inspectors.

"It's too dangerous," was his, not entirely unexpected, reply.

"But Wally, this could give us the break we need.  We could show
those CNN guys that we mean business."

He considered it for a moment, fingers steepled in front of his
lips.  "Okay, I'll send Greg Hoskins."

"Greg Hoskins! Why? It's my story."

"I told you it's too dangerous for you."

"Because I'm a woman, right? That's bullshit, Wally, and you know
it.  It's my story and I want to cover it."

The bureau chief looked across at her.  Her eyes glinted with the
ferocity of a cornered feral cat.  She had the determination,
that was for sure.

"It's not that.  Well, not entirely.  It's just that I can't
cover you when you're there.  Greg looks like an Ayrab for
Chrissakes, which you obviously don't."

"Look, Wally, the best camouflage is to be out in the open. 
They'd hardly expect a blond blue eyed spy now would they? Anyway
women have more methods of escaping detection than men have."

"How so?"

"Well, we can wear the Chador for a start, that covers us from
head to toe so no-one can see us.  Furthermore everyone takes it
for granted.  And my Arabic is perfect, as you well know. 
Finally I can get more information out of a man within an hour
than Greg Hoskins could in a lifetime."

Wally had to concede that point.  She was extraordinarily adept
at extracting information from the most intractable source. 
Perhaps it was her bimbo looks that disarmed them.  That, plus a
first-class brain.  He mulled it over in his mind, then tried one
last time to dissuade her.

"Look,  Keri-May, I understand how you feel, but this sort of
assignment is dangerous.  I can't give you any support, except
from casuals in country and the Lord knows how reliable they'd be
in a crisis.  The State department would deny all knowledge of
it.  You'd be on your own, in a hostile country where they'd all
get a pat on the back, and extra rations for their kids, for
turning in an American spy.  I wouldn't like to send an
experienced reporter into that lot, never mind someone who has
only recently joined.  It's too risky, surely you can see that?"

"Oh come on, Wally.  Stop treating me like a child, I knew what I
was getting into when I came here.  You get me good ID and I'll
be fine."

Slowly, over the course of the next hour, she wore him down, the
possibility of a Pulitzer finally winning him over.  

The amazing thing was that she had found the dump within a week
of being there.  She wasn't averse to a roll in the hay to
further her career which, coupled with the fact that the Officer
from Tikrit was absolutely smitten with her, gave her the lead
she needed.  Her problems started when she was caught trying to
take photographs of the compound in which they were stored.

The soldiers had been rough, but not brutal and she hadn't, to
her great surprise and relief, been sexually assaulted apart from
the occasional fondled breast and pat on the rear, of which she'd
endured far worse in her office.  Reporting sure dulled the
threshold level on her reaction to physical abuse, she surmised.

The worst part was the mind-numbing boredom of the prison.  For
someone of her intellect it was the worst form of cruelty, being
taken away from all forms of intellectual stimuli and forced to
exist in a cold, heartless cell.  With just the murmurs and
occasional screams of the other prisoners for company.  

And so it was with a curious mixture of longing and dread that
she heard the key turning in the lock of her cell door.  

The guard was new and dressed in a uniform she hadn't seen
before.

"Yallah!" he shouted and jerked his thumb along the corridor.

"What's the rush?" she replied in perfect Arabic.

He smiled, revealing a mess of Qat stained teeth.  "A clever spy
heh? But you got caught so maybe you're not so clever.  Now, come
on, the director is waiting."

He hustled her along the corridor, past the bleak row of
identical steel doors behind which terrified citizens huddled in
dread.  Instead of going down to the interrogation rooms that she
knew so well, they ascended to the first floor.  The guard paused
at a plain steel door and tapped respectfully.  He then ushered
her inside.

The laboratory was unexpected in its cleanliness.  She looked
around at the array of stainless steel instruments in cabinets
around the wall, then her attention was drawn to the chair in the
centre of the room.  It looked like the gynaecological chair
she'd had to endure when she thought she'd picked up a dose of
something nasty at college.  But this one had straps hung around
it menacingly and suddenly she was afraid.

The scientist darted towards her.  

"Excellent," he said. "Hook her up so I may get to work."

Keri-May was unceremoniously stripped by two matrons, who
employed an economy of effort that bespoke long practise.  When
she was naked she was hustled over to the chair, blushingly
conscious of the lustful grins of the prison guards that stood in
the room.   

Once she was strapped into place the scientist approached.  He
looked sadly at her, his inner self obviously at odds with what
he was being forced to do.

"I must insert something into you,"  he told her, almost
apologetically.  "Please keep still, I will try not to hurt you."

"Please," she wailed, as he picked up a long, thick rubber
canister from which wires protruded ominously.  "Please don't. 
Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged.  "I'm sorry, it is most unfortunate, but I must obey
my orders.  I hope you understand."

He then proceeded to lubricate the canister with a thick layer of
what looked like KY jelly.  Keri-May watched in fascinated terror
as he approached her wide-open pussy.  He paused for a second,
then proceeded to push it slowly into her.

She wriggled unconsciously as she felt the canister slide into
her.  To her surprise it was warm and if she had closed her eyes,
she could have imagined it as being the penis of one of her
lovers sliding pleasantly into her inner self.  She groaned
slightly, despite her best efforts at self control, as the
'thing' slid further in and the guards chuckled.  The scientist
stopped and admonished them then continued to force it into her
until it was completely buried inside.  He then took a small tool
and applied it to a hidden screw-head at the base of the unit.  A
single twist and she felt the top of the device balloon outwards
until it was jammed immovably inside her.  The scientist tried
tugging it gently and, satisfied that it couldn't be removed
without the aid of the tool, he stood back and wiped his hands.

Keri-may continued to wriggle at the unwelcome intrusion.  It
wasn't that it was painful, but it was so embarrassingly
intrusive that it humiliated her.  It was pushed so deep that she
could barely feel it, in a sexual way, but the dangling wires,
akin to the strings on a tampon, reminded her and her watchers of
its presence within her.

"What is it? Please tell me," she pleaded.

"It is...  ah ...  a poison capsule," he replied, simply.

"Poison?" Now the tears started to pool in her eyes.  "Why are
you doing this to me?"

"Hush, dear," he said mildly.  "And listen.  I have placed the
container inside you so it can be used to transport a certain,
how shall I put it, er, weapon to the front line.  This weapon
requires special handling, which you have been chosen to
administer.  There are no choices in this.  You have no choice
and neither do I.  Do you understand me?"

She nodded.  She thought she understood but was unprepared for
what followed.

"In order to ensure that the agent remains in a usable condition
you must knead the vessel every couple of hours or so.  There is
a sensor fitted inside the vessel which will sound when the
treatment is required, so you will be warned.  The kneading must
be rigorous and thorough, which can only be achieved, our tests
have concluded, by you having a rigorous orgasm."

"What?" she exclaimed tearfully.

"I thought I had explained it adequately." He continued
patiently.  "You must induce an orgasm every two hours or so or I
cannot be held responsible for the consequences."

"Every two hours, but what about my sleep?"

"Your guards have been trained to, as you Americans so aptly put
it, bring you off whenever they hear the warning."

"But what if I don't want to? Or I can't?"

"Oh, but you must.  I must stress the danger you are in if you
don't.  The vessel may rupture and you will die.  It will not be
a pleasant death.  Do you understand?"

She closed her eyes trying to will away the horror and her body
involuntarily tried to force the container out from her, but it
was held firmly in place and her efforts barely shifted it.

He studied her for a second, then continued.  "I will help you."

With that he turned and picked up a hypodermic from an instrument
tray then proceeded to draw a colourless liquid into it from a
small bottle.

She flinched as he approached with it.  

"Relax, my dear.  This will help you.   It is a powerful
aphrodisiac that will induce a prodigiously enhanced sense of
sexual excitement in you.  It will help you to fulfil your task."


She cried as the liquid was forced into her arm.

He dabbed the needle mark carefully and looked down on her.  "May
the blessings of Allah go with you and may his benevolence guide
you in your forthcoming trial."  With that, he turned on his heel
and walked out, followed by the matrons, leaving her alone with
the two grinning guards.

"It is time to see if the drug is working, Ali," laughed one of
them as he approached her helplessly bound body, his finger
flexing theatrically.

*************************************************

Avi Mehandin leaned forward in the rickety chair as his case
officer explained the problem to him.  Lean and rangy, he looked
like a typical street Arab that is likely to be found idling
slowly through any middle eastern town, which suited him and his
bosses perfectly.  

He was one of Mossad's deep cover assets in Iraq and had been
instrumental in providing much of the information regarding
Saddam's intentions towards the west and Israel in particular. 
The case officer had met him, at great personal risk to both men,
at a small coffee shop the Agency owned in a village close to the
Jordanian border.   Now they sat, two itinerant Arabs, sipping
their mint tea and resting away from the sunshine, a scene
repeated countless times across the area and unlikely to arouse
suspicion.

"We know that he has developed something new, which he is
intending to target on us.  What it is we are not so sure about,
but, put it this way, I've moved my family from Tel Aviv.  We
also know that he has some new type of delivery system.  We know
its not the Scuds.  We know where they are and we also know that
most of them are out of commission.   For a while we thought he
might have bought some Nadong Missiles from North Korea, but we
can't find any evidence of them being transhipped.  Which leads
us with one alternative and that is a super gun of some kind. 
Now we heard, from one of our agents in England, that an
engineering company there had been receiving orders for, what
could only be, gun barrels.  We, together with MI5, allowed them
to be shipped and we followed closely.  Unfortunately we lost
track of them when one of our agents was compromised in the
docks.  So where they've gone is anybody's guess.  That was three
months ago, since then we've heard nothing.  Then we heard of an
avalanche in the Jebal Hamreen hills, which killed a group of
construction workers.  Not one of them escaped.  That sounded
extremely convenient to us, so we suspect that that is where the
guns have been assembled and he's covering his tracks.  We
managed to get some satellite time from the Americans but we've
found nothing of substance.  Which is where you come in.  We want
you to find them and call up an air-strike to take them out."

The case officer leaned forward and continued.  "I need not
stress to you the urgency of this mission."

Avi lowered his hawk-like eyes, to hide his intense anger at this
new threat to the peace and security of his homeland.

"Give me the means and I will do the job," he said simply.

*****************************************************

Keri-May's fingers diddled her clit frantically as she tried to
coax an unwanted, but crucial orgasm from her unwilling body.  It
had been twelve hours since she had been given the injection and
it still hadn't kicked in like the doctor had promised.  

As she twirled her fingers and mauled her breasts she was aware
of the strident screeching that came from her crotch that
signalled that she must massage the container as if her life
depended on it, which it patently did.

Just as she started to climb her heights the door flew open and
two of the guards stepped into the room followed by an unknown
officer, whose lip curled in disdain at her lewd display.  Her
hands automatically stopped and went to cover her crotch and
breasts protectively.

They were all frozen in a silent tableau, while the screaming
from her crotch continued unabated.

"You must fuck yourself, American whore.   Or we'll do it for
you," sneered one of the guards, as the officer continued to
stare at her.

Lost in a haze of humiliation, her fingers again started their
work while the officer calmly pulled out a cigarette.  Perched
comfortable on the rickety table he watched as she forced herself
towards her humiliating orgasm.  She closed her eyes to shut out
the scene, but the ribald comments and the slow, forceful
exhalations from the officer intruded on her senses.  It was the
hardest cum of her life to achieve, as her body fought against
her instincts.  But eventually, and to her great relief, she
exploded into a welter of whimpering, sweating convulsions as the
eagerly sought orgasm raced through her.

After she had subsided she opened her eyes to find the men
watching her in amused contempt.  She wished she could have
crawled into a hole and died.  

"Get her up," snapped the Officer.  "Dress her and bring her to
the truck."

He then turned on his heel and walked out.

They put her in a simple dress that barely covered her crotch. 
It was grey and shapeless through uncounted washings and did
little to assist in protecting her modesty.  Its main benefit,
from her captor's point of view, was that it allowed unhindered
access to her pussy.   Which meant that they could force her into
having orgasms whether she co-operated or not.  The word had gone
round,  their continued well-being and that of most of the people
in the country depended on her achieving her cums.  And they
weren't going to let a little thing like her willing
participation stand in the way of their personal safety.

Just before she was taken from the cell one of the guards
injected her again.

"It is the catalyst for the previous injection." He said to her
unspoken query.  "The scientist said you would understand what
that means."

She understood all right.  The almost immediate tingling in her
crotch signalled the start of a new life.  As a cum-crazed slut.

**************************************************

Avi slipped back into Baghdad later that evening.  Leaving his
Land Cruiser out in the Desert he took an ordinary bus back to
the city, so as to not arouse suspicion.

His first call was on a technician he had compromised earlier in
the year.  He knew that his visit could possibly destroy the
asset, but time was not on his side.  It threw up an interesting
fact.

He followed up on it, which led him in turn to a certain Colonel
Rashid of the Imperial Guards.  He had left town over six months
ago and no-one had known where he had gone.  But, suddenly he had
re-appeared.  A loquacious soldier had furnished the further fact
that he was leaving again tonight.

Avi waited on the Old Damascus road for the Colonel to appear. 
It was nearly dusk as he saw the small convoy approaching.  He
squatted down in the dust and waited for them to go by.

He had been in this game a long time and he thought nothing could
surprise him.  But the glimpse of a semi-naked blond girl chained
up and fondled by a group of laughing soldiers widened his eyes a
little.  His first thought was that she formed part of the Rest
and Recreation package that Saddam had put together for his
lonely troops.  But if they were that lonely why weren't they
giving it to her, there and then, instead of just playing with
her?

He waited for an hour, then started up his Land Cruiser and went
to follow.

************************************************

The journey itself, along a road pitted with potholes, was bad
enough, but the almost continuous fondling nearly drove her out
of her mind.  They had chained her standing, with her legs spread
and her hands tied above her in the bouncing truck.  Then they
took it in turns to fondle her in every way imaginable, while she
stood there in lustful shame.

She knew she couldn't do anything about her hyper-aroused state
but it still shamed her nevertheless, as they forced yet another
writhing orgasm from her.  Worse, they had taken bets on who
could make her come the quickest and so she had to not just
endure the fondling, but also the shouts and coarse laughter as
they worked her body with abandon.

As the journey ground on, the soldiers seemed to start to lose
interest in her and, as dusk fell, they rolled themselves in
blankets between the ammunition cases and fell asleep.  At first
she was pleased with a cessation of the continuous mauling but
then, with mounting horror, she started to feel her crotch get
tingly again.  She endured for two hours, willing herself to
ignore the urgency of her crotch, but then the alarm went off and
she realised the predicament she was in.  She had to cum, her
life depended on it, but how?

She started to call softly, but they ignored her.  

She tried calling louder, but still they snored on.

Eventually the alarm itself  provided the answer.  Its raucous
screech awoke one of the men who, grumbling sleepily, reached up
and unlocked the handcuff that was holding one of her arms high. 
He then settled down to sleep again.  

At first she was dazed then it slowly dawned on her what she was
expected to do.

They weren't going to masturbate her.  She was expected to do it
herself.

With a moan she reached down towards her tortured crotch.

This was going to be a long night.

**************************************************

Avi nearly stumbled upon the convoy as he followed cautiously
behind.  They had ascended into a range of foothills, where the
track was rocky and barely discernible.  He had breasted a rise
to see the campfires of the troops twinkling in the distance.

He found a convenient gully and hid the Land Cruiser as best he
could.  Removing his Uzi he started to make his way towards the
campfires on foot.

*************************************************

The men in the truck awoke to the delicious sight of a beautiful
and half naked young woman masturbating herself furiously.  Her
hand kept up a steady pumping motion as her fingers massaged and
stroked.  Each of them had dreamed about a girl like this.  And
now she was here.  Making herself cum in front of their eyes.  It
was better than any floor show they had ever heard about, because
here, they knew she wasn't faking.  

She came, bucking her hips wildly and oblivious to their
presence, just as the trucks pulled up.  They drew themselves
away from the girl who hung limply in her bonds.

All night long she had been forced to masturbate herself.  For
every two hours she had been awakened and had had to do it again.
Eventually she was so tired, as the result of her mistreatment
and the number of good cums she'd had, she starting doing it in
her sleep.  She stood there, straddled, her head lolling on her
chest as her fingers played lazily with her clit.  Her cums were
muted, but strong enough to achieve the desired effect.

It was dawn by the time they eventually took her down from the
truck.  She didn't know which had disorientated her more, the use
of her limbs again or the fact that she had been forced to remove
her hand from her crotch.  Finally she stood before them.  The
officer came up beside her and turned to address the men.

"I cannot stress how important this package is.  I do not want it
to be damaged.  Therefore you will not fuck this girl, in any
way, including oral sex.   At least until the package has been
safely delivered.  At which point her usefulness in her present
capacity is over and she could be made available for more general
duties.  I hope I am making myself clear?"

He was.

He nodded.  "Good.  Now I don't want the column held up because
of having to service some whore, and so our scientists have come
up with an ingenious solution."

He held up a high-tech chastity belt.  The men cheered as he
fitted it over her and connected the wires to the unit inside. 
He then picked up a large battery pack and solar charger unit and
slung it over her shoulders like a rucksack.  Finally he pulled
her arms back and tied them together behind the batteries.  He
then flicked a switch.

"Right, men, we have a long way to go before nightfall, let's
move out."

They left the temporary camp and struck off into the hills.  
Keri-May stumbled miserably along behind them, a young goat herd
teasing her naked thighs with a switch.

That was hours ago.  

Since then the climb had been a nightmare for her.  

The batteries were heavy, the trail was steep and rocky and the
chastity belt kept molesting her.  Now, instead of the raucous
scream it merely set off a vibration unit which hummed and rubbed
between her legs.  Such was its power and movement, that it had
her cumming within a minute or so of being activated.

She remembered the first time with shame.

The goatboy had tucked the back of her dress under the rucksack
and was urging her on with the occasional stinging stripe across
her bare bottom.  The combination of his casualness and her
nakedness hurt her worse than the bites, but they achieved their
purpose as she stumbled on blindly.  Then, just when she thought
things couldn't get worse, she felt the unit kick into life and
immediately she started to get hot and tingly down there.  Her
steps faltered as her climax started to grow and the boy was
forced to lay into her naked and defenceless bottom hard in order
to get her to move at all.

Finally she was walking bow legged, wishing desperately that she
had the use of her hands to help her orgasm along.  When it hit,
she stopped walking and no amount of thrashing could make her
move again, as her climax soared.   The combination of the
searing stripes and the firm, purposeful vibrations caused her to
climb higher than she had ever done in her life.

And so it was, that she had the most explosive orgasm of her
entire life whilst bent over with her legs apart, with a goat
herd swiping her butt and a vibrator massaging her clit
vigorously.   Some of the soldiers came back to see what the hold
up was and were fascinated as she flew like an eagle.  Her
screams of pleasure bouncing around the narrow gorge then echoing
back to torment her, with her lewd, abandoned display of
hedonistic pleasure.

When the orgasm finally hit, in full force, she stretched her
neck back and howled like a beaten dog.  She stiffened her whole
body and her crotch rotated in small bucking circles as if she
was entertaining a real lover between her athletic legs.

When it was over she slumped and it was only the prompt action of
one of the guards catching her arms that prevented her from
falling over.  It was as if the orgasm itself had been her only
means of support and now that it was over she was bereft of
enough power to maintain her posture.

"What's happening?" the officer said angrily as he strode back.

"She was having an orgasm, Sir." 

The Officer looked at her, wild eyed and rubber legged, then
smirked slightly.  He was going to enjoy handing her over to the
men.  But now they must move on.  

"Get the whore moving," he ordered and turning on his heel, he
marched away.

It took nearly a minute of frantic thrashing before she could
move again.

And in a little under two hours it was going to happen again.

*******************************************************

Avi had watched the display with amazement.  He thought he'd seen
everything that life had to offer, but the sight of a half naked
beauty having an earth shattering orgasm on a rocky hillside
arrested him in his tracks.  As surely as a sniper's bullet.  

"What on earth was going on here?" he asked himself.

He crouched, waiting, until she had recovered enough of her
composure to shamble off again.

He then followed, discretely at a distance.  It was indeed
fortunate that the Iraqis were so lax when it came to military
discipline.  This was far easier than the Be'qaa valley.

*************************************************

Eventually they had to assign two guards to her, to help her on
her way.   The repeated orgasms had a cumulative effect of her
bone-tired body and she was barely able to walk at all.

So the guards held her arms and hustled her forward.  It was then
that she learned about having orgasms on the march as they
wouldn't let her stop to savour the ecstasy, but instead kept her
moving forward while her head lolled drunkenly and her crotch
exploded.

**************************************************

Keri-May lay half comatose on the floor of the small cinderblock
storage shed. The enforced march and her numbing orgasms had
sapped her very will and she ended up drifting in and out of
consciousness like a wraith.

But despite her privations and the terrible drain on her inner
resources her body still felt tingly and alive. Especially in the
junction between her legs. 

They had arrived just before dusk after enduring the searing heat
blasting off the rocks as they climbed deeper into the pitiless
mountains, through countless narrow gorges. She'd been fed,
barely, on a few scraps and had  been thrust into the storage
shed with only an earthenware pitcher of water for company. It
was sheer laziness, she surmised, that stopped them from removing
the vibrator from her crotch. It was just as well as she couldn't
summon up the energy to masturbate herself enough for the sort of
orgasm that would keep the poison alive inside her body.

It took all of her remaining resources to lie there and immerse
herself in her cums. In that she had no choice as her body and
the capsule both demanded that she fulfilled herself repeatedly.

Her boredom had vanished and in its place was an overwhelming
lethargy that bordered on unconsciousness.

Gone was the bright articulate reporter and in her place there
was a sexually frustrated bimbo who appeared to be kept alive
purely by the longing for yet another cum.

She whimpered in lust and hopeless humiliation as the vibrator
set to work again, deep down in the confluence of her legs.

**************************************************

Avi crouched in the lee of two large rocks as he adjusted the
collapsible satellite antennae. He had pulled a sand coloured net
over his upper body to help provide him with camouflage and to
nullify any glints of reflected light that may come from his
equipment.

Finally he was ready.

"Dove calling Mount. Are you receiving me? Over."

A slight hiss as the squelch kicked in was followed by, "Mount
receiving you, over."

"Co-ordinates follow." He then proceeded to read out the map
references of the site.

The base followed through by reading them back which he
acknowledged then dismantled his set.

He'd already set his laser guides so now all he could do was
wait.

****************************************************

The bombers streaked in just before dawn, jinking and weaving
along the steep valleys as they hove in for their attack run.

The Iraqi's were taken momentarily by surprise by the scream of
the jets but soon recovered and ran towards the carefully
concealed AA guns. Meanwhile the radars lit the ether up like
Christmas tree lights.

Avi waited until the crump of the first descending bomb before he
made his move. He was confident that the laser sources that he
had laid amongst the buildings and, more importantly, the guns
themselves would guide their charges to the sweet spots of
destruction.

Normally, in this type of raid, he would have been long gone by
the time the bombers were called in. But there was something
about that girl that intrigued him and he was determined to find
out what role she had to play in the events here.

So he dashed across the ground, crouching low, as the bombs
started to smash into the ground around him. The Iraqis were far
too absorbed in protecting both their lives and the guns to
notice his silently flitting shadow making its way towards the
grey block house that held the pretty young lady captive.

Once he reached it he smashed open the lock with the butt of his
gun and crept inside. She lay huddled against the far wall her
eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Do you speak English?" he whispered.

She nodded dully.

"Good, lets get out of here then. I think the Iraqis are not
going to be too pleased once they get chance to sit down and work
out what has happened and, more to the point, how."

With that he stepped across and hauled her to her feet. She felt
surprisingly heavy and then he noticed the heavy haversack on her
back. A large knife appeared in his hand like magic and he
severed the straps as she murmured, 

"No, no." 

The wires linking the unit to her crotch still held her back so
he cut those too and then pulled her towards the door.

A quick glance outside confirmed that no-one was taking any
notice of the blockhouse as they dashed around the encampment,
their figures silhouetted by the flames.

He pulled the stumbling girl after him as he made his way out of
the camp as fast as he could. He didn't want to be around once
this raid was over.

She whimpered as she forced her leaden legs to move.

And her crotch tingled.

*****************************************************

An hour later they found themselves in a narrow ravine just below
the skyline, just as the sun started to make its presence known
over the horizon.

Considering her lack of energy they were making surprisingly good
time, but he still wanted to put as many miles as he could
between them and the undoubtedly pursuing and vengeful Iraqis. He
knew Saddam of old and he didn't want to become a guest of him
and his tame torturer.

He knew too much.

Suddenly the girl stopped and no amount of pulling would urge her
to move on.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled angrily as she reached
for her crotch.

"I...ah...must cum," she whispered.

"Lady, there is a time and a place for everything and this isn't
it," he retorted.

"I must. I must," she mumbled as started to diddle herself.

He stepped forward and tried to pull her hands away but she
fought him with a burst of frantic energy that startled him.

So, seething with anger, he let her get on with it. 

An emotionless man he may have been. Tough, resolute and
extremely dangerous but he was still a man. And the sight of a
beautiful woman, her body gleaming softly in the rays of the new
sun, cresting the waves of an obviously powerful orgasm caused
his breath to quicken as the old familiar feeling grew in his
crotch.

They both squatted facing each other, he, resting with his hands
tightly gripping the muzzle of his Uzi and she, with wide open
legs and a hand delving under her short dress.

After what seemed like hours but was in fact a minute or two she
threw her head back, eyes tightly closed, as she soared to the
sky.

Finally it was over and she slumped onto her knees her head bent
in submission.

He waited until she got her breath back and then asked. "What was
that all about?"

"I must orgasm every two hours," she whispered, her shame
colouring her cheeks prettily.

"Why?"

So she told him. 

His eyes grew hard and his mouth tightened grimly as she finished
her tale.

A quick swig at his water bottle and they were off again.

Was it his imagination or was that a dog pack he heard echoing
down the valley?

****************************************************

They rested up in a small cave to escape the worst of the midday
heat.

He looked tenderly down at her, like a father looking sat his new
born daughter, as she dozed. She looked so innocent lying there,
her features slack with overwhelming fatigue.

Suddenly the alarm sounded and she tried to move her hand towards
her crotch. But she didn't have the strength.

Avi carefully moved her hand away and gently eased open her legs.
He then started to masturbate her.

He thought he heard her whisper 'thank you' as his fingers worked
but it was so quiet that it could just have been the sound of her
breathless panting as she neared her climax.

***************************************************

They crossed over into Jordan three days later with half the
Iraqi army hard on their heels. Once safely across Israeli agents
spirited them away and they found themselves in Jerusalem the
following day.

She was whisked away to hospital and he was debriefed by his
commander. Everywhere there were beams and smiles and slaps on
the back.

They told him that she must be airlifted out to the Centre for
Contagious Diseases in Atlanta to remove the capsule as the
facilities in Israel were not up to the delicate task of both
removing the tube and neutralising the poison.

So he found himself sitting next to her on the C130 as it clawed
its way into the air from Ben Gurion.

He took over her masturbation duties as they lolled in amongst
the packing cases.

She smiled and willingly spread her body when the alarm went off.

In between they chatted and touched like lovelorn teenagers.

For such a long flight it was over surprisingly quickly for them.

******************************************************

The package was removed from her two days later. But they were
unable to provide an antidote to the aphrodisiac.

That night she and Avi went to a small restaurant and afterwards
they conjugated their relationship between the cool sheets of her
downtown hotel.

His hard body yielded up so much pleasure that she was able to
sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.

*****************************************************

Threats to his homeland continued apace and before long he was
discretely advised to take over his responsibilities again. So it
was a hard time for both of them when he was recalled to his
homeland.

They clung together at the airport, promising to keep in touch
for ever. But they both knew, deep down, that it was over. The
nature and uncertainty of his work was the severance inevitable. 

She sat in the departure area and howled for over an hour when he
had gone.

***************************************************

Keri-may became an instant celebrity and was soon fronting her
own news show on prime time television with a salary that
exceeded her telephone number.

She was particularly popular during marathon news sessions. It
was obvious to even the most jaded viewer that she was hot to
trot. The flush on her cheeks, her squirming posture, her panting
recitation, her glazed expression. It all added up to one hot
bimbo. The viewers, especially the males, just couldn't get
enough of her.

And her ratings soared.

And best of all she was allowed to move into the marine barracks.
Where morale suddenly soared.

So there is a heaven after hell, after all.

*****************************************************

Does anybody want to continue with tales about Keri-may? I give
you my permission to use any of the characters that are contained
in this story. All I ask is that you acknowledge that the characters 
are mine, Spoonbender's, when you write your story. And that they
originated in this story.

Thanks.

TS


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