Trained to submit

Her body was exhausted, Michael’s cock still sitting inside her. “Can you take your finger out of my ass?” Monika asked almost two casually, even though it felt so strange, Michael never leaving his finger still.

Michael reluctantly pulled his finger out, watching as her asshole closed slowly, the dark, black hole slowly shrinking until it was gone, the skin around her wrinkled hole a light pink, the only sign of his abuse. “If I must,” slapping her on the ass before she finally turned over.

There were four of them, Michael, Monika, Joanna and Sandra. Joanna was blonde, the cheerleader type, full, firm breasts, a set of lips that made Michael’s cock hard when she spoke. Monika had seen it in him when they talked. Sandra had black hair, long and straight, half way down her back. Monika knew that she was Michael’s fetish for long haired girls, liking them naked, their hair covering their body, nipples peeking out mysteriously between the hairs. He had lost his redhead when the TA was involved in the car accident, his true lust. Monika would have gladly dyed her hair red for Michael, but his lust was for the red bush between her legs, not on her head. Monika still didn’t know what drew Michael to her, but she would do little to complain or even ask, just grateful for the chance.

They had a chance to get off the plane in Mexico City, an hour delay before the flight to Havana. They finally boarded, the plane filling up fast. And most of them were not Cubans, but businessmen from many countries, all drawn to do business with Castro’s Cuba since the American’s refused to do so. Cuba still had natural resources that were sought by others, especially the hopes for the oil offshore. The four of them stayed together, Michael getting looks, sure that they believed he was a pimp bringing American prostitutes to Cuba.

He warned the girls to be prepared. “We are some of the few Americans that are allowed into Cuba. And we are not terribly liked, but that would be an understatement. I am not sure how they will treat us at customs, especially attractive American girls, but you should expect anything. They might try humiliating you, not unfathomable that they will make you strip naked and be searched. And not by female officers, but males. I still don’t know why I got the visa to come to Cuba after turning me down for six years, but you should expect anything.”

Monika had never even thought of that, her travel contained to the United States where they still treated you with some respect, though that had changed after 911. How would I handle that? Would it be difficult or actually be exciting?

It was already hot and sticky in the terminal in Havana, waiting in line for only a few minutes. They had worn skirts and blouses, wanting to put out a professional look but were already regretting it.

“Senor, will you and your party come with me?” The Cuban soldier carried an AK47, his tan uniform stained with perspiration.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t hard to spot us. Guess we should follow him, since he is the one carrying the gun.” He could see the nervousness in the girls, trying to make light of it. They were led down a long corridor, stopping at the first door. “Senor, please go in here.”

“But what about the others. Can’t they go with me?” He hoped they wouldn’t be split up.

“They will be treated with respect, Sir, now please enter, they are waiting for you. And they tend to grow impatient.” He moved his hand to the AK47 in a threatening manner.

“We’ll all meet outside in the terminal near the front entrance.” Michael wasn’t sure exactly where, but he would find them all. “Take a deep breath and remain calm. It will be okay.” No matter what he said, they all had a look of fear etched in their faces.

It wasn’t what Michael had expected. Inside were three soldiers, but not the burly soldiers with AK47's, but three female soldiers, the tan uniforms stretched tightly across lovely breasts, full hips highlighted by tight pants. Yet they all wore army boots, their pants tucked into them. And all had a holster with a revolver, a Ghs-18. Michael knew his firearms, wishing he had one now. He had warned the girls that they might try to humiliate them but never expected it to happen to him.

“Would you put your carry-on bag on the table, Senor, and stand over there while we search it?” Captain Yelinda Famosa was in charge, a ten-year veteran and an intense patriot. She had been told of the American’s arrival and had been given explicit orders. She would carry them out with pleasure. She had brought two privates with her, wanting young girls, though she was not sure that this man would be humiliated by stripping naked. At least at the end he would know that the police would be keeping a special eye on him.

Michael watched as the two privates began to tear his carry-on bag apart, even ripping out the lining in the bottom, but Michael knew that he had to be careful. Only common items that he could disguise were brought with him, the rest would be supplied by the rebels.

“If you would face the wall and put your hands outstretched on it, Senor. Michael is it not?” Captain Famosa moved towards him. He was indeed handsome, she would enjoy this.

He felt her hands on him, a strange reversal or roles for Michael. Usually he is the one doing the inspecting. But the Captain was attractive, and he couldn’t stop his cock from getting hard even if he wanted to. And he didn’t. She searched his upper body, her hands running over the front of his chest, Michael able to feel her pointed breasts pushing into his back. He held his breath as her hand slid down over his stomach, stopping briefly at his belt, his cock straining to get lose of the tight pants that constricted his hard-on.

She had to admit he had a nice body, a firm chest. Her hand ran down his chest, lowering down to slide down the front of his pants. She had already seen the bulge in his pants. She felt his cock, her fingers curling around it. “Is this you, Senor, or are you carrying a large gun?” She felt it jump in her hand, squeezing tighter on it.

“If you continue to squeeze it like that, Captain, I’m afraid it might shoot at you,” trying to make a joke, but it didn’t go far.

“Are you threatening me, Michael?” She let lose of his cock, but it still felt like it was in her hands.

“No, Captain, I’m sorry. I was just trying to make a joke.” It seemed that his humor was lost on her or through the translation in her head. He saw the other two come over, his belongings back in his bag. They were young girls, barely out of their teens, but nothing could hide the delicious bodies beneath the drab, tan uniforms.

“Take off your shirt.” Her voice was demanding, her smile gone from her face. The two privates looked at Michael with a hunger in their eyes. Hungry for his body.

Michael did as he was ordered, neatly folding it and placing it on the table. He didn’t have to wait long before she told him to take off her shoes and socks, Michael sitting down briefly to comply. When he stood back up he only had his pants, knowing that it wouldn’t be long. He would almost be grateful, feeling his cock harder than he had every felt it before, straining to get out of the constricting fabric of his pants. He hoped the girls were faring better than he was.

“You take good care of your body, Michael, in spite of being an American.” So many of the foreigners that came to Cuba are fat and flabby middle-aged men. This one had a flat stomach, large arms and powerful hands. But he didn’t scare Captain Famosa. She could handle any man twice her size. And she was an expert with her revolver, able to subdue any man bigger. “Your pants now, Michael.”