P. O. W.

by Max Vos

  “I understand,” Stone said.

  “How old are you, Samuel J. Stone?”

  “I will be thirty this coming May, and you, Mr. Abbas Hakim?”

  He grinned broadly as Stone had tried to imitate his accent. “I was thirty this past August, so I am older than you.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re such a senior citizen,” Stone snickered. “You went to school in the UK.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “It shows, does it?” Abbas smirked. “I was sent to school there as a young man. I was able to graduate from Oxford. I was supposed to attend Emory University in your country.”

  “Oh? What happened?” This well-educated and devilishly handsome man captivated Stone. He was sitting so close that Stone could feel the heat coming from him.

  “This damned war,” he answered sadly, looking down at the dirt floor.

  “You might be surprised that I grew up right down the road from Emory.” The shock was visible on his face. “My parents still live there.”

  “That means…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Stone finished it for him. “That means that perhaps we would have met there if it weren’t for this fucking war.”

  The look of sadness that infected Abbas’s handsome face was painful. “Yes. I would have preferred that to this,” he said indicating the small, dirty room.

  “Look, Abbas, if you help me and Benoit get out of this alive, I swear to you…I promise you, I will take you back to the States personally. Then you can be free to go to Emory.” Stone made that promise, and he swore to the Almighty that he would move Heaven and Earth to make that happen.

  “You don’t understand, Samuel J. Stone,” Abbas said dejectedly. “The mogul, or as you would say, the War Lord, of this province has my family sewn in. If I do not do as they wish, they will exterminate me and my entire family.”

  Now Stone understood how and why Abbas was here, doing what he was doing. His family was being held hostage.

  “First off, please, call me Sam.” Stone took his warm hand in his, squeezing it for emphasis. “What if we could arrange to get your family out?”

  “I doubt that could happen as they are closely watched,” he said dismissively.

  “But what if it could happen, Abbas?” Stone’s shoulder nudged the Arab, making him look at the naked man next to him. “It seems we are in the same boat here. I give you my word, if you help us get out of here, I will do everything I possibly can to help you and your family get out as well.”

  “My father will never leave. Our family has owned that land for many generations.” He sighed.

  “You never know,” Stone said as he put his hand on the man’s clothed thigh. “If he is a smart man, he might consider his family’s well-being over that of his land.”

  “Perhaps you are right, my friend, Sam.”

  Stone saw hope start to bud in his eyes. He hoped that he would be able to see that bud bloom into a beautiful flower.

  “Let’s make it happen, Abbas.” Stone nudged him again. He was rewarded with a full smile this time.

  “It may take some time, Sam.” Abbas’s face became more serious. “We will have to play a waiting game, and I know these men. They are ruthless, especially Abdul. He is the grandson of the Mogul, and is particularly heartless.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that.” The bile rose in Stone’s throat, his face turning sour, just thinking of the murderer.

  Abbas gazed into Stone’s eyes, almost as if he were studying a new specimen. “They have plans for you and your friend. I do not know what they are as yet, but I can assure you that whatever they have planned will not be good.” The concern was thick in his voice. “There is only so much that I can do or say here. I pray that you and your friend can stay strong enough to last through whatever they have in store for you.”

  “Benoit and I are strong.” Stone tried to sound bold, but was afraid, and he thought it might have showed. “As long as we have each other, I think we can stand just about anything that they can throw at us.”

  “I hope you are right, Sam. I hope you are right.” Abbas looked down at the dirt floor before looking back up.

  They stared at each other for some time. Stone wanted to kiss him so badly, perhaps to show how much he appreciated what this man had done, but something held him back.

  “I must take my leave,” Abbas said sadly. “I have already stayed longer than I should have.”

  Stone took his warm hand for a moment, holding it tightly, not wanting him to go. Abbas seemed to understand. Finally, Stone gave in, letting the hand slip from his own. Abbas gave the tortured man a weak smile, and then slipped quietly from the room, now considerably dimmer with him gone.

  After Abbas had left, Stone curled up on the bed and pulled the scratchy blanket around himself. He kept thinking of ways that he could help Abbas and his family. As always, in the back of his mind, he kept thinking of ways to escape. Hoping that his strength would hold out, and be there for when he would need it most.

  Then Stone thought of Benoit: so close, and yet so far from him. Suddenly he felt guilty, as if he were cheating on Benoit with Abbas. There was no doubt that Abbas and Stone had a connection. But I love Benoit. Or do I?

  Stone was able to answer his own question without hesitation. Yes, I do love Benoit, but it’s a love that will never come to fruition, which makes me feel even guiltier.

  Stone was now torn between two men. One he knew, well enough to trust his life to; the other he didn’t know well at all, but trusted, and felt drawn to. Abbas was the first man in a long time that had caught and held his attention. But was it enough?

  Chapter 6

  Stone heard the door being unlocked, but pretended to be asleep. During the night, a plan had started to come together in his head. He would let his keepers feel like they had the upper hand at all times. Not only would this help in conserving his energy, but also they would hopefully become lax and make a mistake, one big enough for him to capitalize on and possibly make an escape.

  The kid, Stone’s handler, nudged his shoulder with the barrel of his rifle, none too gently, thinking that Stone was asleep. Precisely what Stone wanted him to think. Slowly the Marine rolled over, keeping his eyes averted from his handler. The kid motioned with the rifle for the naked American to get up, and Stone complied, but slowly, again part of the plan.

  Once Stone was up, they headed back to the room where they had tried to electrocute him and his friend, Benoit. He wasn’t sure, but he would be willing to bet they were going to try something else, since that didn’t work so well for them the first time.

  The room had been rearranged. The old bed frame was pushed up under the window, and the oblong table was now in the middle of the room. Gone was the electrical setup they had used the day before. There was nothing on the tabletop. Stone became curious as to what they had planned. Quickly, the Marine glanced at his young handler, but could not get a read on anything from him.

  Seconds later, another man entered the room. He had been in the courtyard that first day, but Stone had not seen him since that day. Now Stone was finally able to pick up on the name of the twerp, his keeper, Saaleh. They spoke briefly, the new man doing most of the talking.

  Out of the corner of Stone’s eye, he saw a large grin spread across Saaleh’s face. This wasn’t a good sign. Saaleh kept the rifle on his charge while the other man pushed the Marine over onto the table. He tied Stone’s hands long ways to the table legs, face down, with his head hanging over the other side. Soon his ankles were tied to the legs on the opposite side. Stone’s full weight was on the tabletop, only the balls of his feet left on the floor. He was fully exposed. He could feel the cool air on his balls and anus.

  Stone knew then that they were going to go for something sexual. He had heard of this happening, and he could feel the panic build in his gut. He did his best to remain calm, his inner dialogue telling him to relax. If he were relaxed, he thought, the pain and, hopefully, any damage would be kept to a
minimum. It was difficult, but he forced himself to focus on his breathing, doing everything he could to remain calm. He focused his eyes on a spot of peeling paint on the wall, and controlled his breathing.

  They gave him plenty of time to do this. The two men in the room chattered away; Saaleh seemed excited. The seconds ticked away, turning into minutes. The longer Stone lay there, the more nervous he became, which was counterproductive. He knew this, but couldn’t help himself.

  When Stone thought he was going to start losing it, the door slammed open, and Benoit was pushed into the room. Somehow Stone hadn’t figured him into the equation. For some reason, he thought this was going to be a one-on-one session, and Benoit would get his turn later. Stone felt even more exposed at that moment, knowing that Benoit could see his asshole and dangling genitalia in this prone position.

  From this angle, Stone could only see Benoit from the upper chest down, thankfully.

  “What the fuck?” Benoit’s voice seemed dry. “Sam, you okay, buddy?”

  “Yeah, Benny. Just stay cool.” Stone did everything in his power to keep his voice calm and steady. “Play the tired possum game, Benny.” Tired possum was code for acting passive, letting the opposing player think you were tired and he had the upper hand. They’d often used that tactic during their touch football games, so Stone knew Benoit would know what he was talking about.

  “Got it,” he managed to get out before being yelled at, presumably being told to be quiet.

  Stone could hear more men as they entered the room, not being able to see them with his backside, literally, to the door. Then he heard Abdul’s loud and boisterous voice; there was cruelty even in the sound of his voice. More men entered. Stone could not determine how many men were in the room now, but from the rise in the room’s temperature, he knew it had to be quite a few.

  Benoit’s body was against the wall, his cock and balls directly in front of Stone, making even him more nervous.

  Abbas appeared. Stone knew it was him because of his well-pressed slacks, and polished Western-style shoes.

  Abdul started speaking loudly, bringing the room to order. Of course Stone had no idea what he was saying, but whatever it was, it seemed to excite the others in the room. When the temperature in the room rose even more, Stone had a good idea of what might be coming. If this is to be my fate, then so be it, he thought quietly to himself, resigned. Let them have their fun. They might be able to touch my body, but they can’t touch my soul was his new mantra.

  Abbas turned away from Stone, facing Benoit. “This will be your last chance.” His voice was even. “Will you now tell us of your mission?”

  “You can tell these animals, and you know that they are, to go fuck themselves,” Benoit spat out, hardly above a whisper.

  Stone knew then that Benoit was just as concerned as he was. He had also figured out what was about to happen.

  “Very well, then,” Abbas spoke, his voice still even, but Stone could tell it was strained now that he had gotten to know Abbas a little.

  Abbas stepped aside so that Stone again had an unobstructed view of Benoit, from his feet to just above his nipples. Stone lifted his head, his neck muscles straining, and for a brief moment, he could see Benoit’s eyes. The compassion that Stone saw made his heart ache for Benoit. If their positions had been switched, Stone was sure that he would have the same look as Benoit had now.

  Two men roughly shoved Benoit forward, his dick smacking Stone in the nose. Abdul barked out some order. Stone hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking it was.

  “You must suck your friend,” Abbas commanded Stone.

  Stone turned his head toward Abbas. Even from his prone position, the bound Marine could see Abbas’s face, his eyes dead. Slowly, Stone shook his head no, tears rising, blurring Abbas’s image. No, Stone mouthed, but no sound emitted.

  “Suck him,” Abbas repeated.

  Oh, God, no, anything but this. Not Benoit, please, God, not this. The panic that Stone had been able to push aside rose up violently. He started bucking, trying to back away from Benoit, and his beautiful cock and low hanging balls.

  A hand violently jerked Stone’s head back, so abruptly that he heard his neck crack. His head was pulled so hard and so far back that the legs of the table his hands were tied to came off the ground a few inches. Stone saw what they wanted him to see: Abdul holding a long knife to Benoit’s throat, smiling evilly at Stone over his shoulder.

  “If you do not do as you are told, your friend’s throat will be cut, and his blood will be on you, figuratively and literally.” For the first time, Stone heard anger in Abbas’s voice.

  “Oh, God, no. Please. Anything but this, I beg you.” It was hard to speak with his head extended all the way back, but Stone managed to croak it out.

  “Either tell them what they want to know, do as you are told, or your friend will die, of that I can guarantee you.” Abbas’s voice rose in volume.

  “Just do it, Sam,” Benoit said through clenched teeth. “It doesn’t matter, just do it.”

  Abdul held the knife with one hand, and with the other held Benoit under the chin, his neck extended. Stone could see the knife being held to his skin, a small cut, a drip of blood running down his extended neck.

  Stone closed his eyes, knowing he was beaten. This was going to happen, whether Benoit or Stone wanted it or not. Stone opened his mouth in defeat.

  Stone felt Benoit’s dick pass over his lips, then the soft, limp cock lay on his tongue. Stone closed his mouth around it. How many times had he dreamed of this, wanting this moment to happen? Stone had lusted and wanted Benoit for so long, but not like this. Not by force. Not with an audience of vulgar animals.

  Someone, probably Abdul, smacked Stone’s ass hard, sounding a sharp crack in the room. Abdul issued an order, which even Stone understood.

  “Suck.”

  Stone’s eyes were still closed, tears streaming down his face as he started sucking Benoit’s limp dick. Stone sucked it as he would a thick milkshake through a narrow straw. He felt Benoit’s dick begin to lengthen and then harden in his mouth.

  “That’s it, Sam. Keep that up and this will all be over with soon,” Benoit whispered hoarsely.

  Not being able to control his body, Stone felt his own cock start to harden. As if this nightmare couldn’t have gotten any worse, it just had. Those standing behind Stone noticed, and started laughing and pointed it out. Stone felt a hand grab his hardness and pull it hard behind him, so hard he thought it was going to break off. When they let it go, Stone’s dick slapped up hard, hitting the edge of the table, causing him to wince.

  Benoit started helping his buddy out by thrusting his now fully-engorged dick in and out of his mouth, face-fucking him. Soon Stone felt Benoit’s hands on either side of his face, guiding his cock into Stone’s warm mouth.

  There was nothing that Stone could do to stop the sob that escaped up and out of his throat. Tears continued to flow, his neck now as wet as his face, as they coursed down. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, because he was enjoying it. Stone had secretly wanted this for so long.

  Opening his eyes slightly, Stone could see Benoit’s hairy crotch, moving to and fro. He was trying to take it easy on me, not giving me the full length. Although it wasn’t much, Stone extended his neck to get more of the dick into his mouth. Benoit must have realized what Stone was doing, feeding him a bit more, then a bit more. When Benoit got it, that his buddy could take all of it, his thick pubic bush was tickling Stone’s nose, his swinging nuts slapping against the fettered Marine’s chin, his thrusting cock burying deep in his open throat.

  Stone was able to appreciate the manly, intimate smell of Benoit’s unwashed groin. The masculine, musky scent was getting to him, driving him on. Wanting more, a split second after Benoit crushed his dense bush into his nose, he enjoyed the feeling of Benoit’s large, hairy nuts bouncing off his chin.

  It wasn’t long before his low hangers weren’t hanging so low any more, the smell of sex growing
stronger. The taste of his pre-cum was salty-sweat, and it was like nectar to Stone.

  Benoit was suddenly yanked back and away from Stone. Somewhere along the way, Stone realized that he had stopped crying, and now the wetness on his chin and neck was of his own saliva, slobbers that had escaped his mouth.

  Looking up, Stone saw two men on either side of Benoit, pulling him away, taking him away. Before Stone had a chance to protest, he felt something cold and wet sliding up and around his asshole, the sudden shock of the cold surprising Stone before he had time to react. No sooner had the coldness faded than Stone felt the head of a dick at his entrance. He knew it was his friend’s, Benoit’s.

  This couldn’t be happening. Stone’s tears started flowing anew. Benoit, the man he had secretly loved, whom he had wanted for so long, was about to do to Stone what he had only dreamed of, but he was miserable; his insides, his inner self, was collapsing in on itself.

  Stone went to lay his head in despair on the cool surface of the table when he saw Abbas. The look on his face was that of pure disgust. His disgust is for me, Stone thought. That was the final straw. Stone gave in, and the gut-wrenching sobs burst forth. Unable to clamp them down, he convulsed as the head of Benoit’s dick, the one that had been in his mouth just a few moments before, entered him from behind.

  Not being able to take the look on Abbas’s face, Stone turned his head in the other direction. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the whole scene. When Benoit’s decent-sized cock slammed into him, cheers went up in the room. Stone’s head came off the table as he screamed in pain. Only two others had ever been up there, and that was a long time ago. As hard as Stone had tried to relax, it hadn’t been enough. It felt as if he were being split in two with a red-hot poker.

  Before his scream ended, Stone got a hard slap across the face, hard enough for him to see stars. Choking from the shock of the slap, and the soul-piercing pain coming from his ass, the Marine froze. A knife sliced and diced his most inner self. He was slipping away, his soul dying, leaving his body. He was no longer himself.