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duty
If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright, 1996, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. If you have any comments or requests, please E-mail them to me at [email protected]. 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. |
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Duty
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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
[email protected]
2002/02/25
2004/04/12
For a quite different story of a woman losing
her virginity under quite different
circumstances, see:
"Rampant"
The directory to all my stories can be found at:
Index to Uther Pendragon's Website
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