But the man still had to be made so unacceptable to the Americans that they would never support him if he tried a coup in the war's aftermath. From his extensive dossier on the general, Saddam knew that the general was a sadist who had tortured to death for his own gratification several Kurdish women captured by his troops. It seemed to her that he was hitting her cervix with every thrust. She knew that she must be bleeding from the pain in her dry cunt walls. But there was nothing she could do except hang there and submit to his rape. The guard held onto the woman's muscular asscheeks for leverage as he brutally fucked her. Yazeed was exhausted as well. He could manage nothing more than to plop down in his chair and stare at Diana's hanging form. Eventually, he had the translator untie her and leave her lying on the cold concrete floor on her back. "No noise. You scream, I start collecting souvenirs. Got it?" I watch her slowly shaking. He would send Rashid the American female pilot. The gift would cement his loyalty in the short run. Then evidence of the general's sadism, collected by his spy in the man's headquarters, would give Saddam the means to destroy him after the war. As his subordinates wisely agreed, the plan was brilliant. At Yazeed's order, the guard raping her ass began to twist and pull on her sore nipples to get her to struggle again. The new pain coming from her abused nipples did make Diana fight feebly, involuntarily milking his cock as her body struggled feebly to escape. However, all that came out of her gagged mouth was a series of unintelligible grunts. But the Captain was not really interested in bargaining for information. He wished to break her. First, he ordered one of the guards to remove the clamps on her long nipples. When he released the clamps, Diana could feel nothing for a moment. Then the blood and the feeling poured back into the sensitive nipples, bringing a wave of pain. Carefully, she closed her lips around it and began to suck, licking its undersides with her tongue. She concentrated on pleasing this man with all her soul, using her tongue and lips expertly. The soft, sucking sounds that came from her mouth were painfully humiliating to her; but Diana was too afraid of this man to complain. "You call me SIR bitch, you got that?" The anger just welled up inside me. I had the other leg half cut. I grabbed the edges and yanked, tearing her pants the rest of the way open. I threw them to the side, staring down at tan legs, and little light blue cotton panties. So one night I'm driving. Near the college, and it's late. Maybe 11:30PM. She's walking. I see her breath, puffs of white cotton that fade away as she steps into them. A dark figure, but definitely a girl. Within hours, Diana had been taken from the custody of Captain Yazeed, fed, and clothed again in her flight suit, though without any underclothes. Then she was put into a civilian car and began the dangerous trip to Rashid's headquarters in southern Kuwait. Her nipples were erect from the cold. I put my palm against one, and made small circles. It felt electric, sparks running up my arm. She began to moan, a sound of complete despair. It made my cock throb in my jeans. "Litt-le Lill-ee," I sang softly, tracing her mouth with my finger. Soft and warm. I pressed my finger in. "Suck little fuck slut." Her tongue tried to push my finger away. I took the snips with my free hand, and gripped one nipple between the blades. Nnggoo!" She spit out past my hand. "Suck bitch!" I hissed. Her mouth opened a bit, and her tongue began to caress my finger. So warm and wet. I wanted her. I pulled my shirt off, began kissing her neck, her chest, sucking on her nipples. She felt like a slut. Diana was overwhelmed by revulsion. She struggled to escape. It did no good; her efforts only goaded the men on to more brutal attacks on her. At least she was spared the humiliation of understanding their crude comments as they mistook her struggles for the throes of passion. But her training wasn't the real world of the Middle East. Now, things were moving too fast for her. She felt she had to slow things down, pretend to give in to gain time. This sort of information was of little value anyway; certainly not worth a gang rape. The clamps had serrated teeth and a powerful spring. He placed each carefully on her elongated nipples and then released both at once. The sharp teeth bit down into the tender flesh of Diana's nipples, drawing tiny drops of blood almost instantly. Diana screamed into her gag as the two clips bit into her nipples. The twisting was no more painful than foreplay but it was humiliating to Diana to have this man use her body so casually. When he was satisfied with the erectness of her nipples, Yazeed brought a pair of small metal clamps, alligator clips actually from a voltage meter, out of his pocket. Now the general was lashing Diana across her back, the end of the heavy belt just long enough to reach around her to strike the sensitive sides of her large breasts. The sheer weigh of the blows was driving Diana into the wall. Yazeed listened to the translation, consulted a black notebook, and then turned to Diana with a chilling smile. The translator listened to him and said," The Captain says that you are a poor liar. We are not stupid; we have CNN here too. We saw the reporter do his story about your loss. Some of our pilots spent a lot of time in Saudi Arabia when we were fighting the accused Iranians. Consumed with fear and guilt, Diana was losing touch with who and what she was and beginning to allow her captors to define her in their terms instead. She began to think that the worst part of her captivity was over. As her confidence grew, so grew her anger at the pain and humiliation which had been inflicted on her by Captain Yazeed. As his translator converted his words into English, Yazeed held the electric baton, which its American maker appropriately called a "cattle prod," prominently in his right hand. Fortunately, he had an even more brilliant plan. It was inevitable now that the Americans would attack and that his army would be defeated. But, if he could bloody the imperialists before his army's inevitable defeat, he could still emerge as the Arab hero. The guards then gagged her with a rubber ball gag, patted her ass, and left; Captain Yazeed and his translator remained. The officer stood in front of Diana, caressing her prominent nipples again. He began twisting the sensitive flesh with his strong fingers as he stared into her face. He worked on them one at a time, twisting and squeezing the nubs until they hardened involuntarily. Diana had never felt such a sense of relief; for a moment she even forgot the burning sensation in her nipples and her impending rape as the pressure in her intestines receded. The heavy smell of shit did not seem to bother the men crowded around her. They used a small hose to clean the splattered feces off her ass and legs. As he fist fucked her with one hand, Yazeed used his other hand to stroke his cock, masturbating in time with his thrusts inside Diana's cunt. Again and again he used Diana as his punching bag. Finally, he jerked his fist out of her cunt, sending a new blast of pain to Diana's overloaded brain.
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