Trained to submit

Monika could barely stand as they released her, her legs feeling like rubber as she stood up, Miguel at her side, holding her up. She could feel the dry cum on her thighs, her panties gone, only the short skirt to hide her treasures from the rest of the world. She looked at each of them, not able to tell which would have climaxed in her mouth, all of them sporting hard-ons that bulged their pants. They climbed back into the jeep, speeding off into the late afternoon sun. The jeep pulled up in front of the offices where they were working, Monika suddenly remembering her unfinished task for Michael. Would he find out what I had done?

Miguel kissed her cheek lovingly, his tenderness surprising Monika. He handed her a brown envelope. “I enjoyed you very much, Monika. We’ll have to do it again. Real soon. This is for Michael. It is what he sent you to find. It will please him, but not as much as you please me. Now be careful. There are many opposing forces.”

Michael saw her enter, Monika looking more frazzled than usual. She handed him the envelope, Michael’s hands hurriedly opening it and looking it over. He looked up and smiled at her, saying softly so the others wouldn’t hear. “I hope you didn’t have to give up too much to get this.”

“Nothing I didn’t enjoy more. I’m going back to the hotel. It’s warm and humid today and I need a nice bath.” She turned and left the room with a swish of her skirt.

Michael watched her leave, her short skirt moving from side to side. He was sure that she was naked beneath it, a tanned ass cheek clearly visible as it swayed from side to side. What did she give up? And to whom?

Monika stayed with Michael, Sandra and Joanna for the rest of the week, working hard on the project. It was going well, exceedingly well, beyond Michael’s expectations. Michael was still his charming self, suggesting they go out Saturday night, Monika graciously accepting. She masturbated almost every night that week, Miguel in her head and always wondering whose cock was in her mouth. She had hoped that he would magically appear and spirit her away, but the week went by without Monika seeing him. Miguel had unlocked something in Monika that Michael didn’t even know existed. Being bound had excited her beyond belief, and the added excitement of others watching her, from the soldiers to El Presidente had unleashed a dark side of her sexuality. And she wanted to experience more of it.

At the same time she felt uneasiness. It was as though the men in her life, Michael, Miguel and El Presidente , all had an agenda that Monika wasn’t a part of. At least not yet. Tonight she saw it in Michael, taking her to dinner at the Baracoa Café, an out-of-the-way bistro. It wasn’t so much the place, but Michael seemed to be on edge, looking around as if someone might be following them. During dinner he was his charming self, but he was getting jealous, though he didn’t know what or who he was jealous of. It was Monika’s unexplained absences, Michael continually trying to dig deeper into the mystery, Monika more determined to keep it from him. She liked the degree of control it gave her over him. She might be submissive sexually, but she still had a strong individual personality.

It happened so fast that Monika didn’t get a good look at anything. They were just getting ready to cross the street when a truck came out of nowhere, both of them having to step back up on the curb to get out of its way. All she could remember was the color, army green, though she didn’t remember seeing any insignias on it. It screeched to a halt right in front of them, the sidewalk around them filled with men, Monika’s last glimpse was of Michael being hit before something was thrown over her head and the blackness engulfed her. She was manhandled, her arms forced behind her back, a hand making her bend at the waist, Monika finding her wrists bound before she even realized it. She could already feel the numbness in her fingers, the ropes cutting off the circulation. She could hardly breathe, let alone scream, the air beneath the hood suffocating. Were these government soldiers? Or were they the rebels I’ve heard of? She couldn’t make out what they were saying, speaking Spanish. She was tossed into the back of the truck like a bag of potatoes, her knees scraping on the hard, rough floor, sure that they were bleeding. She heard more shuffling and then the truck sped away, the trucking bouncing on the potholed streets of Havana.

“ Bonito culo ,” the rebel said. He grabbed Monika around the waist, pulling her up to her knees. “Head down,” pushing down on her shoulders, her ass forced to rise up. “ Si .” His hands slid over her ass cheeks. “ Bonito ass,” his English not very good except for some swear words. He saw her trying to move away, his hand swinging and catching her full on one of her ripe cheeks with a loud slap.

One of them yanked her up, Monika forced to her knees, her arms tied tightly behind her. His hands began to wander over her ass, but she couldn’t do anything to stop him, wagging her hips from side to side to try to avoid the molesting hand. She felt the sting on her ass, he had spanked her cheek, the skin burning even after his hand left. Another slap to the other side, the sound of men laughing filling the truck. Fingers crept under her short skirt, touching her smooth inner thighs, another hand holding her still. When she tried to move away, a hand would slap her, Monika never knowing where, this time her inner thigh slapped. The hand returned, this time Monika not moving away as the hand became bolder, sliding up between her legs. His strong fingers gripped her soft skin, pinching it until Monika shrieked in pain.

“Pussy,” the rebel knowing what interested him. “ Difundir sus piernas ,” growing impatient.

Monika didn’t know what he wanted. Well, she did know what he wanted, but she didn’t know exactly what he wanted her to do. The fingers pressed painfully between her thighs, feeling like pinchers as they squeezed her flesh. The hand slapped her soft, inner thighs, Monika realizing what he wanted. Her knees scraped along the rough truck bed as she spread her legs.

“ Si ,” his hands now free to explore more of the American’s thighs. He flipped up her skirt over her back, a black thong doing little to cover anything, especially the lovely tanned cheeks. He saw where he had slapped her, the skin already turning red. He gazed down lower, the thong disappearing between a lovely crack, the black thong reappearing at her crotch, pulled tightly over her pussy. But nothing could hide the twin lips. He couldn’t resist, slapping her inner thigh, but this time high up, his fingers touching so close to her pussy that he could almost feel her heat. She bucked when he hit, her, moving to the other side and repeating himself.

She never felt so vulnerable, her ass raised up, the man behind her slapping her ass. And not her cheeks, but her thighs, hitting so close to her pussy she could almost feel the wind blowing by.

“Leave her be, there’ll be time soon enough.”

She heard his voice, authoritative, sure that he was the leader. Monika was relived, but she knew it was only a brief reprieve. It didn’t take long for them to get where they were going, the truck slowing down, the rattle of the tires on the brick pavers of old Havana. The truck made several sharp turns, Monika almost losing her balance before she felt it stop abruptly. She heard the sound of more men jabbering in Spanish, Monika wishing she knew more than a few words.

She was pulled up by her wrists, forced to bend over as they almost dragged her from the truck. She was thrown over the shoulder of a man, her body tossed as though she weighed nothing.