Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2003 19:01:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: jetjockboy@yahoo.com
Subject: Dont get caught Part II

First I would like to thank all those who took the time to send me positive
feedback. I'm glad you liked it. Here's more, and please, keep the feedback
coming.


Don't Get Caught Part II

Rick could see that the bidders came from all walks of life in both western
and traditional dress, and to his surprise, not all were men. While he and
the other `items' had never seen a slave auction before, it became quite
obvious that every one else had.

The slaves were poked, probed, and prodded. And although you could see
their uneasiness, you could see that they were trying hard to comply with
the general's orders. Rick, on the other hand, had no intention of showing
his revulsion at being on display, and tried to remain cool. He tried to
reason with himself to look upon this as an opportunity to escape, not an
opportunity to remain a slave the rest of his life, as the general would
have him believe.

And the general. His behavior puzzled Rick. Why give him cigarettes last
night? Why the gag? Something was certainly up, and Rick hoped to be sold
off so he didn't have to find out. In the meanwhile, though, he made a
mental note to show the general some appreciation for the
favoritism. Suddenly, his attention was brought back to his present
surroundings, as the guards unchained his legs from the floor and walked
him over to a family, using the chain around his neck as a collar. Rick
determined that now was not a good time to show defiance, so he followed.

He was led over to a family, a man about his age and height, a woman in
western clothes and two boys who looked to be about ten and maybe 6.

The guard acting as salesperson spoke to the couple, "This one would make
an excellent nanny. He's educated, we think he even speaks some Arabic."

The man looked dubious, "Why is he gagged?" The man grabbed Rick's balls
and gave a hard squeeze. Instead of jumping back, as was his impulse, he
moved closer until the man could feel the prisoner's breath on his
face. The man, surprised, pulled back, "What is this one, gay or
something?" Secretly, the man hoped the slave was gay, and Rick knew it.

The guard smiled "He's not gay, just cocky. Testing you already. He's a
pilot, they are like that. And he's gagged because he talks too much. But
you can have his vocal chords severed for a small fee. And", the guard
looked down at Rick's balls, "There is a small procedure that will cure the
cockiness"

The woman spoke now; She knew her husband was hoping the slave was gay, too
"Then how would he teach my boys with no voice? No, I don't think so. I
don't think I like this one at all, in fact I don't think I like any of
them. Not near my babies anyway. We need a proper nanny." The couple walked
away, the guard grabbed the chain around Rick's neck.

Suddenly he realized why he was gagged. These buyers wanted Americans, and
he was gagged so he would not have to speak

Rick watched the family leave, and it brought back thoughts of his own. The
family he hoped he'd see soon. His wife, who had begged him to resign his
job. And his boys Farouk, the intrepid ten year old, the reason he'd
married Jasmine, and his son Ibrahim, the baby, who was his joy. Rick could
remember exactly the four happiest events in his life and all four were
connected with Jasmine and the boys.

He'd met Jasmine at university. She was studying journalism while writing
for whatever paper would publish her work to pay the bills.  The educated
and beautiful Palestinian woman and the handsome Israeli, from a wealthy
family. It didn't matter the differences in their upbringing, they looked
good together as a couple, and they clicked. And the day Jasmine told him
she was pregnant was one of those four happiest events.

When he had to tell his grandmother that he was marrying a Palestinian
girl, and the reason the marriage was going to be so soon, the fireworks
erupted, and once again, his life changed forever.

His grandmother was sitting behind her giant desk, in her oversized office,
the intimidating surroundings chosen purposely.  Her long black hair was
pulled up, and she wore black, her trademark color. She was a slight woman,
but instead of the black clothes slimming her, they actually made her look
entirely unapproachable. A look she'd worked on for years. "Shame on you,
Israel. What did you think you were doing with this Arab girl? Don't you
know what she was after? You come from a well known family and you don't
protect yourself against this." She was beside herself with anger, "I thank
God your parents are not alive to see this."

Rick did not thank God his parents were not alive to see this. Had it not
been for the death of his parents when he was 16, he'd never have ended up
in this country, with its unfamiliar culture and difficult language he was
still working so hard to learn, living under the commanding eye of his
overpowering grandmother. He'd still be in Cuba, he'd still be the happy go
lucky kid who liked to dance and play the piano.

His grandmother's booming voice continued, " You will NOT marry this
girl. I will take care of her. And you will finish your studies, and YOU
WILL become a Rabbi. It is expected of you, your parents wanted it for you,
and you will do it."

He looked at his grandmother and realized that in spite of his fear of this
woman, he was going to have to defy her.

"No, abuelita, I am not going to be a Rabbi. My parents would not have
wanted me to do something I didn't want to do.  I want to study music and
art."

"Your school and your destiny are paid for and determined, you will go. No
grandson of mine will end up some kind of artist, and I will NOT have
Muslim grandchildren. Where are you going? I.  AM.  TALKING.  TO.  YOU!"

Rick picked up his jacket wordlessly and made his way through the large
house to his bedroom, where he packed up some clothes, a few mementos of
his parents, his guitar, and started towards the front door.

"Don't come back here until you have come to your senses. From this point
on, you are dead to me." He heard from behind him.

"Fine."

"Don't `fine' me, you'll be back as soon as you need money. You don't know
how to live without it."...

The sting of the cattle prod on his ass brought him back to the present
"Hey, stop daydreaming!", as the guard held up the prod again, threatening
to use it. Rick noticed that there were no more customers in the room.

"What was that funny business, getting close like that to the customer? You
think this is a game or something? You're lucky we can't put any new marks
on you today, this will have to do. " The guard took the cattle prod and
touched Rick's cock. Rick screamed and struggled, more and more guards came
over, and finally it took seven of them to tie him to a chair so he could
not move. Ten more times the cattle prod was applied to his genitals. First
his cock, then his balls. Alternating. Between the incredible pain from the
cattle prod and the feeling from the butt plug up against his prostate, he
realized his cock was getting hard, and for the first time since his ordeal
had begun, he was embarrassed. "Hey look at this, I think the infidel pig
likes it. I know American boys can't control their cocks, but really, I
thought you'd do better. Maybe I should give him ten more."

When his tormentor stopped, the guards untied him from the chair. But Rick
didn't move. He couldn't, it was as if both his body and his brain had just
stopped. Then he felt the ice water poured over his head, his cock went
back to normal and life came back to him as he was dragged over to the
others, who had been chained together while Rick suffered his torment.

The prisoners were led back to their cell the leg irons and chains
removed. The zoo cell, as Rick had begun to think of it.

The guard addressed the prisoners in English, "The auction will begin in a
few hours.  You will all be fed now. Any funny stuff and ALL of you will be
punished."

Four bowls of food were put on the table. The guards stood back and
watched. The men looked at the four bowls and looked at each other trying
to figure out how to handle the fact that they were one bowl short. While
the others just stood and stared, Rick went over, picked up a bowl and
started to eat.

The Colonel spoke, "Take the food, guys" The men just looked at him. "It's
ok, I am not hungry anyway."

Rick passed the Colonel his bowl, half eaten. The Colonel took it and ate,
passing Rick a glance that said a silent thank you.

Shortly after feeding time, the general entered the room and looked
around. He motioned to the lead guard. "The auction starts in a couple of
hours, I want them all cleaned up."

"But Sir, we already shaved and bathed them."

"Well do it again and see if you can clean up the bruises, I want them to
look good, I've got something to do later and I need for this thing to be
over quickly. Why are there only 4 bowls here and 5 men?" The general
looked over at Rick, "Has this one been fed?"

"No Sir."

"Why not?"

"He took a bowl but then gave it to one of the Americans, the leader."

"Well bring in another bowl."

"We don't have any more slave feed."

"Then feed him one of the pitas meant for the bidders." The general turned
to Rick who was looking back quizzically, "You don't mind a good Halal
meal, do you?"

The guard left and returned with a pita sandwich. As he was hungry, and
this was his first real food in a long time, Rick could not eat fast
enough. It was lamb, his favorite food. He looked up at the general, and in
between bites said "Thank you", with an earnest tone and expression that
the General had not seen before.

"You are welcome", he responded, equally as earnest and smiled, "What a
proper young man you must have been in your past life."

Rick cast his eyes down for a second, sighed, and continued eating. The
other soldiers just watched the action, not comprehending the Arabic
conversation and confused by the kindness shown to one prisoner.

Andre Menendez, the seasoned Colonel, was watching with particular interest
and unlike his men, did understand the conversation. My clever boy, he
thought of his former pupil, just the right amount of humility at just the
right time. This Rick was all business, and a far cry from the party boy
with the beautiful wife he'd met years ago at West Point.

Meanwhile, some of the guards had left and returned with a rolling office
chair, scissors and an electric razor. Each prisoner, in turn, was strapped
to the chair and given a haircut and a shave, and his face was cleaned
up. When the guards got to Rick, the general spoke up.

"Shave him, but don't shave his head like the others. Just clean him up a
little. I kind of like his hair." And so he was given a shave, a trim, and
ice was applied to the black eye he'd received the day before. Rick
realized that he was not to be made to look like the others and this was by
design, yet they were trying to sell him as an American soldier. Of course,
he thought, I'm not being sold today. I'm not going anywhere.

The General spoke, "The auction will start soon, but don't worry, you're
being sold from here. Just act natural." He laughed.

Meanwhile, Rick had been studying the mirror that spanned the wall opposite
the cell door. One way glass, of course, but how thick? There was only one
way to find out. He looked at the Colonel and looked down at the wooden
bowls that were still on the table. The Colonel gave one short, almost
imperceptible nod. Both men walked to the table slowly.

"Ahora!" the Colonel screamed and they both picked up the bowls and hurled
them with all their might at the mirror. The other men picked up on their
cue as they all lifted the picnic table, ran across the room, and rammed it
into the glass.

In a split second, it was pandemonium. A siren sounded, the mirror
shattered, glass flew everywhere, the guards and the prisoners started to
fight, and Rick blasted through the shattered glass into a room filled with
confused people, all who jumped and scattered at the sight of the glass
breaking and the prisoners running..

Rick heard a voice behind him, "There!! Puerta!!" and he and the Colonel
ran as fast as they could out the door and into a corridor that Rick
recognized.

"Adelante!" Rick screamed. The two ran down the corridor, through an
office, smashed through its window, and bolted into a large parking
lot. Rick looked over his shoulder at the building where he'd been
housed. It looked like a warehouse and other warehouses surrounded
it. Although he was pretty sure they were still in the capital of the
country, this was a part of town he'd not seen before.

They heard gunshots and saw the guards running around like bees. They had
not been spotted yet, but it was just a matter of time. They ran amongst
the cars while Rick tried to open all the doors he passed. Finally, he
tried the door of a large Range Rover, it opened, and both men jumped in
and slammed it shut.

"Jeez Rick How'd you know it would open?"

In English, with a mild Spanish accent Rick replied, "I didn't, but what
else could we do, two naked guys running around a parking lot."

"That was amazing. You still don't do anything normally, do you Ricky?"

Rick looked up to see where the guards were, "Sir, define normal for me in
this situation."

"Shhh, stay down."

"I know to stay down, Colonel. What about your men?"

"Let's one of us get out of here, we'll come back for them."

"You will come back, they are your men."

"Nice attitude."

"Sorry, but I didn't ask to work with anyone. I work alone."

"Shhh, get down."

"I need to get up front to see if I can start it"

"Wait Rick, remember its easier to hide if you don't move around. Wait."

It was against his better judgment, he wanted to start the car and crash
out of there, but Rick obeyed. So they lay low and waited.

And it was true, he had always worked alone. He begged with his superiors
to leave the Americans out of it. The little voice in his head told him
that they would bring trouble. But his superiors were insistent; the
Americans would be there after the assassination to pick up the pieces, and
with any luck, the world will think that the Americans were responsible for
the assassination itself. His country was hated enough by its neighbors, no
need to take credit for this mission.

"Um, Sir" Rick whispered

"What"

"I need to do something" He blushed a little. After all, this was his
former teacher, a man he respected.

"You want me to do it for you, little baby?"

"Fuck that, I do it myself, and I do it to you."

"Then do it"

Rick took a deep breath and yanked out his butt plug, the source of so much
of his distraction all day. He reached over to his mentor.

"Get away, faggot, I can do it myself" and the Colonel did the same, "I
want you to know, Rick, that nothing that happened in this place, nothing
you did, nothing that was done to you counts. It means nothing about who
you are."

"I know. Here. I found some blanket. Cover yourself"

And now, here they were, naked in a parked car, hiding from their
captors. Rick knew it had to be some one from the American side who was the
mole, who was responsible for this, he just knew it. I will get out of here
and I will figure it out, and while I am at it, I will kill the bastard
dictator of this fucked up country, he vowed to himself.

Meanwhile, in a large office overlooking the other side of the warehouse
complex, the general and the doctor were enjoying afternoon tea.

"Where are they now?" asked the doctor.

"Somewhere in the parking lot, maybe under a car. Hopefully they did not
split up yet."

"Lucky he took the American with him."

"Yes, I was hoping he'd do that, so much easier to find when your companion
is wearing a locator chip."

The doctor laughed. "I wonder how long it will take our little friend to
figure it out"

"Not long, I am sure, but by then it will be too late. Would you like more
tea, Doctor?"

"Yes, thank you, General."