Date: Tue, 1 Jan 2013 14:56:11 -0500
From: Johnny Jones <johnny_drama123@hotmail.com>
Subject: Prisoner of War (Chapter 1)

This story is a work of fiction. All characters in the story are 18-21. Do
not read if you are offended or not allowed. It will feature a number of
different fetish situations. Future suggestions, comments, can be sent to
Johnny_drama123@hotmail.com. I will write more if people say they want more
(more information at the end)



Sergeant Armstrong woke up when he felt a cool breeze blow against his bare
chest. Opening his eyes he noticed wherever he was there were no lights and
he could not see anything. He could tell a few things though using his
other senses. He was laying on a cold stone ground and there was some sort
of breeze meaning he was most probably near some sort of open window. He
was stripped of his uniform and all of his clothes, left there naked and
without any protection. It was cool but only a night chill. The air smelled
of a thick musky smell and he came to the conclusion he was in some sort of
prison. He could not hear anything but a ringing in his ears.

The last thing Armstrong remembered was his platoon being ambushed in the
streets. They came quickly, and they came prepared with weapons. Whoever
they were, they knew his platoon was coming and it was their goal to
capture them. A potato sack went over his head and as he struggled, almost
successfully breaking loose, so he was hit hard over the head with
something that knocked him out cold.

Now he was here, wherever here was, and he had no idea how long he had been
out for. Was his head okay? He went to touch his head and that was when for
the first time he felt the steel shackles on his wrist, bound together and
attached to some sort of chain. Rolling over onto his stomach he crawled
towards the direction of the chain and found it bolted to a wall made of
the same stone material as the floor. He pulled at it but there was no
success, he could tell his restraint was well made.

The soldier could barley stand up his head felt so dizzy but he made it
onto his feet and looked around into the darkness. Armstrong tried to
follow the direction of the breeze but the length of the chain that bound
him was not long enough to go past a few feet. Cursing and frustrated he
wanted to know what was going on so he started to yell frantically. Mixed
with anger his yells came out more as a bark, but it was a loud one that
echoed through what sounded like a large hallow room.

He stopped barking for a moment to hear if anyone was there but he heard no
answer. He screamed louder this time, wanting to catch anyone's
attention. His logic was that if he was put into this situation then
somebody wanted him to stay in it, and that meant that somebody would have
been nearby to make sure he did not escape or do anything he was not
suppose to do. That meant somebody could hear him and he wanted their
attention.

"What's going on here? I am a sergeant and demand to know where I am. If I
am some sort of prisoner I have my rights." The fact that he was caught in
such a situation made him sort of hesitate after he said that. He had a
feeling that whoever made him a prisoner of war was not to concerned about
the 'rights' according to some piece of paper they had nothing to do
with. Coming to this sad conclusion he sulked to himself by leaning against
the wall and slowly starting to sink down to the ground. Even if he was
jacked with muscles, brought on by his constant workout while in the
military, and he grew up in colder environments, it was nighttime and he
was naked so he still was very cold. He started to shiver as he bundled his
body into a ball. His bound wrists were at the front of him as he wrapped
his arms around his legs.

After an hour of absolutely no noise or change in the dark and cold
environment, finally Armstrong heard a noise. It was a large clanking and
scrape noise, like a lock being undone and a door being opened. A similar
noise was heard but this time it was a door opening to the large room he
was in. Like he wanted he could finally get a little light and see a bit of
the room.

Standing up on his feet again he suddenly got more then he bargained for
with light when large circular floor lights hanging high above in the
ceiling sprung on and blinded him while his eyes attempted to but failed to
adjust to the new lighting. Hearing somebody walk into the room at the
other side, Armstrong squinted as he attempted to look and see who it
was. His vision was blurry though, a mix of the new lighting he could not
handle and still recovering from that hit on the head. Whoever came to
approach him spoke first. He had a low, raspy, and growling voice, one that
assured dominance right away.

"Did I hear you yell something about your RIGHTS?" He let out a hallowing
half laugh half growl, but it was loud and demeaning. "Let's get one thing
straight here soldier. The only rights you have are the rights I graciously
let you have, and I am not a very generous man. You are my prisoner. My
name is Wartlock but you can only call me sir or master when I permit you
to speak."

As the body came close to Armstrong he could finally see his bare chest. It
was a bodybuilders chest with a thin fiery red chest hair lining. The hair
covered his massively build pecs and a trail down to his pants but his
chiselled abs were clean. His arms looked the size of Armstrong's head and
that frightened him. He then looked up to Wartlock's face.

Wartlock was a large burley ginger man with fat cheeks. Red scruffy hair
covered most of his face and he had short curly red hair. He had the look
of a large potion of the rebels and although Armstrong suspected it before,
he could not confirm that it was the rebel group that caught him. Usually
they killed soldiers on sight but he was alive. Why was that?

"I have no valuable information to give." Armstrong stated as Wartlock made
his way up to Armstrong and then suddenly wrapped his arms around him to
put him in a hug lock.

"That is not my concern. My only concern is that until I am told, you are
mine for the keeping. It could be hours, it could be days, it could be
months. Wartlock started to inspect Armstrong's body. Feeling his defined
chest with his hands and playing with his nipples a little. Armstrong
stayed still in fear most of the time but when Wartlock grabbed ahold of
Armstrong's cock and stroked it Armstrong started to squirm. Wartlock
swiftly with one hand slapped the back of Armstrong's ass cheek and
Armstrong jumped.

"Do not move or I will hit you twice as hard. We have a while together and
I plan to take full advantage of the situation." Armstrong remained
motionless in Wartlock's arms as Wartlock continued to feel him up. He
seemed pleased with Armstrong as he mumbled content while feeling
Armstrong's muscles. As much as Armstrong made it seem like he did not like
what was happening to him, he grew hard because he was really excited about
what could happen next.



I hope you liked it so far. I write these stories or stop making them
depending on the feedback I get so if you are curious to see where this is
going or wanting more please email me at johnny_drama123@hotmail.com and I
will write more as soon as possible :)

Also I would love to have any suggestions you have such as kinks,
situations that turn you on, ect., that you want done to Armstrong. I will
try to incorporate it all.