Torture The Widow

Chapter 41 – Discovery Process

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The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.

Copyright 2004

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"That's right, Rozz, open my hole, work that baby wide open, it's hungry, feed it," groaned Bob, the Marine Captain, whose asshole I was slowly forcing open with my latex gloved hand.

"You're getting there, baby, relax, long slow deep breaths," I replied as I gave another shove gaining a quarter inch in my effort to get my hand inside his ass. I gave his butt a mild smack to help him ease the strain in his gluteus minimus and maximus. Having a working knowledge of human musculature helps when you're fist fucking an uptight Marine. We were in his quarters with the door locked. We'd started out with an intense suck and fuck session. I'd followed that with a trip around the world that started and ended with my lips and tongue working his sphincter. A long the way the Captain had lost his inhibitions and told me what he really wanted me to do. "Stick your fist up my ass, please," he'd whined after I began working his hole with my fingers. This big strong virile Marine wanted his butt fucked just like he was the feature attraction in San Francisco's Mine Shaft lounge and the Leather Knights had brought out the Crisco.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," said Bob with an air of satisfaction. He made a loud sigh indicating that he was having a good time.

Bob was in my opinion a little bit of an oddity. He probably considered himself a straight arrow heterosexual, a rough and ready leatherneck who'd punch the lights out of anyone who even suggested that a love of being butt fucked smacked of homosexuality. But in my view, he was exhibiting bisexual behavior.

In Dr. Alfred Kinsey's landmark 1948 book, Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, the doctor came to the controversial conclusion that most men are to some degree bisexual. Dr. Kinsey had a method for ranking bisexuality from one to five. That's in contrast to popular thought that you are either hetero or homo. It's been a number of years since I studied Kinsey's findings but my little Marine captain was far too fond of having my hand in his tush to be considered strictly on the hetero side of the fence.

My opinion was reinforced when I looked into his box of toys that included a supersize dildo with a suction cup on one end. I pictured the muscular soldier squatting down over the dildo fucking himself while he jerked his cock. The question I couldn't answer was what images were in his head while he wanked his dick. Was it of one of his fellow officers slamming their pricks in his hungry hole? I had a feeling it was. But in the 'don't ask, don't tell' army it was none of my business.

I'm not saying Bob was gay. I had already swallowed several teaspoons of his semen and there was a second smaller load leaking out of my twat. I'm merely remarking that most men can get it on with another guy if the mood is right and they're horny enough.

When I slipped my four fingers out of his brown eye, his hole didn't close completely so I quickly grabbed the plastic bottle of Astro-Glide and squirted some on the lubricant directly inside. Successful fist insertion was in sight. I've fisted my share of assholes and pussies plus I've had other's hands in my cavities up to the forearm. I know how these things work.

Back my hand went and this time I included the thumb. Eureka, I slipped in to my wrist. Bob sounded a loud grunt of satisfaction. He obviously needed to feels something really big in his rear. His anal ring was stretched tight as a rubber band around the base of my hand. I grabbed his nut sack with my other hand and pulled down hard as I pushed forward into his rectum. A good fisting depends on maintaining tension between the scrotum and the asshole. They expect it to hurt. You want them to feel it.

"I'm in all the way. My whole hand is up your ass," I said matter of factly.

"Oh that's good, Rozz," groaned Bob squeezing my fist with his core muscles.

"Are you my butt boy?" I said making a fist and rotating it slightly. I was curious whether he would accept some role-play as a submissive.

"Yeah, I'm your butt boy," whined Bob in a voice that hinted submission.

"And you want me to pack your shit?" I said yanking his balls down hard and giving them a twist. I pushed my hand in another couple of inches, made a fist and rotated it. I was past his rectum in lower intestine land. I could feel his shit squishing around my gloved fingers. If I had a Sigmoidoscope in my hand I could have been checking for Crone's Disease and colon cancer.

"Pack it, Rozz, pack it."

"Want a squirt in your beer, butt boy? Want to show how much you like to drink Rozz's pee?" I asked reaching with my free hand for the nearby plastic cup of beer. I'd decided Bob was a pig and would welcome some very nasty play.

"Yeah, Rozz, make your little butt boy drink beer piss."

The next step required skill and balance. I positioned the cup under me as I came into a squat all the while maintaining a slow rhythmic push and pull motion inside Bob's bowel. He was really getting off on it. I was too since I was pleasing my partner which is the hallmark of an accomplished slut.

"Hear that, Bob, that's Rozz's nasty girl piss. You tell Momma Rozz how much you want to drink it," I said as I sprayed into the cup. The sound of me pissing filled the small room. I got about eighty percent in the cup. The rest soaked my feet. Good enough, I'm a firm believer in the eighty-twenty rule.

"Please, Mother, let me drink your piss. I'll be a good boy," said Bob in his little boy voice. This was getting deep. I'd obviously touched a role-playing nerve. Oedipus had made his appearance. Bob was a motherfucker wantabe. There was probably a time when he was struggling through puberty when he fantasized that his Mother was using him for a toilet. Who knows? Maybe Mom made him bend his head back over the toilet and take her liquid wastes. Mothers have been known to do some strange things.

"And you'll stop doing those nasty things with your sister's panties?" Bob had told me he had two sisters in the Marines and one who was a civilian. It was highly likely that at some point, he'd grabbed a pair of his sister's soiled panty out of the hamper and jerked off with them. What guy with sisters hasn't?

"Yes, Mommie, never again, just let Bobbie drink your peepee."

Wow, I might wind up diapering the guy and letting him nurse a tit.

"All right, Bobbie, drink up for Mommie," I said handing him the cup.

I fisted him and stretched his sack hard while he sipped his beer and piss cocktail.

"How is it, Bobbie? Do you like it?" I asked when he finished.

"It was wonderful, Mommie," said Bob sacking his lips.

"Now, you hold the cup while Mommie points your little dickie. She wants to drink some of Bobbie's peepee," I said. "Can Mommie have some of your peepee?"

"Yes, Mommie, that would be fabulous," said Bob as he began to piss in the cup. At the start he missed and a flood of warm urine spread beneath us lapping at our knees.

"Here, I'll take a sip then you can take one," I said taking the cup from his hand. It was a cocktail of Sam Adams on tap, Bob's piss, and mine. I took a long swallow, not bad; but then again I am a piss slut. "It's delicious. Now you take a sip while Mommie pushes her hand inside your tushie." I was forearm deep squishing his turds in my hand.

We passed the beer cup back and forth until it was empty. I decided it was time to make my faux son blow so his load so I started fisting his hole while I jerked his cock. I pulled back all the way to the O-ring then shoved forward to my elbow.

It wasn't long before he announced he was going to shoot.

"I'm going to blow, Mommie," said Bob trying to talk like a fourteen year old.

"Well, baby boy, you tell Mommie when you're ready to shoot and she's going to take your peepee in her mouth and swallow every drop of your sweet jism."

A few more strokes and he squalled he was ready to cum. I bent his cock back between his legs and took it in my mouth at just the right moment. It was the kind of sweet thick heavy load you get after you've churned their butter. He emptied his tank. I savored the flavor on the back of my tongue then gratefully swallowed. Is there anything better than piss and cum with a beer back?

I'd gotten every swimmer the Captain had to give. He collapsed forward in his bunk and went sound asleep. I cleaned up and decided to rejoin the party. I had thirty-eight horny nurses working the barracks.

This was my way of compensating the Marines for allowing me to walk away with Bashira Al-Budaya, a member of a small Uzbek klan that lived somewhere in the remote Hindu Kush. We'd discovered that from some documents she had with her.

Bashira was safely confined in a private room in the hospital and heavily sedated. We'd set her broken fingers and toes, packed her nose with cotton, sewed up several cuts and in general determined she should recover.

Once I got her back to the hospital I examined her sex more thoroughly. The hood of her clit was totally missing. Both of her labial folds were trimmed down almost to the surface. Oddly, she squirmed a little when I touched her sex. That was in spite of some serious painkillers.

Female genital mutilation is not uncommon in that part of the world. Almost all the time, it is to insure that the woman does not enjoy sex. In many Muslin countries, women are considered prone to wantonness unless they have a clitectomy. (I suppose I am a case in point.)

These people in my view are seriously fucked up. I've seen Afghani girls with just a scar where their clit was supposed to be. They use dull crude knives that aren't sterilized and sometimes the girl bleeds to death or dies of infection. If I had my way, I'd gather up all old Afghan women that practice female genital mutilation and bury them alive in a pit filled with dog shit.

Mutilating a woman's sex to increase her desire or pleasure is much more rare; but there are instances where it is done. The Manchu emperors used to alter their concubines on the theory that the more the girl enjoyed sex the more eager she was to engage in it. There were several members of the Hellfire Club that had their clit hood cut away. They swore that a dangling exposed love button increased their sexual pleasure. Still I doubt if any of them had been stomped by a platoon of Marines then gang raped they would have reacted like Bashira. She'd seemed on autopilot.

Late afternoon before the party I went by to see her again. I noted her color was better and took her pulse and blood pressure. Everything was in the normal range. She fluttered her eyes awake for a moment. I decided to make contact.

"Bashira, I am Major Rozz Donaldson. You are in the US Army hospital at Camp Gardez. We are going to take care of you and get you well," I said holding her small thin hand. She looked up at me for a moment then closed her eyes and went back to la-la land. She was a pretty girl except for a hook in her nose. If she'd been an American, her parents would probably have taken her to a plastic surgeon for a retrousse beak.

After that I met the nurses who had agreed to attend the party in the motor pool. The cases of Jack Daniels and the kegs of beer were already loaded. Practically, every nurse who was off duty had agreed to attend. There isn't much to do at Camp Gardez.

I'd announced at my all-hands staff meeting that the Marines had been having a difficult time with insurgents and had taken some causalities. I'd decided that an inter service party was in order to raise morale. The Marines were going to provide the place, a DJ so we could dance and the food.

"We're bringing ourselves and the booze plus some entertainment I've planned," I said.

"Major, Will they be expecting us to have sex with them?" asked Lt. Mavis who was always kidding around. Everyone knew to expect lots of sex. Otherwise why go?

"Yes," I replied. "So if you are riding the cotton pony you better pass unless you bring your knee pads and stick to BJs."

"Major, are they providing the condoms or should we bring our own?" asked another nurse getting into the fun.

"If you use condoms and I know there are those that do, then you better bring your own just to be sure," I said.

"Major, the BX doesn't carry my brand. I like the ribbed pre-lubes from Life Styles," said Lt. Mavis.

"Are those the ones that come in colors?" I asked.

"Yes, my favorite is cobalt blue," said Lt. Mavis.

"I'll speak to the officer in charge of the store but tonight I suggest you bareback it," I said. For the kind of wall-to-wall sex the party was going to degenerate into I didn't see anyone taking the time to slip on a condom.

My nurses worked hard to look as good as possible in Army fatigues. There had been a serious run on nail polish and hair mousse at the tiny store that served the camp. I didn't doubt that underneath those drab desert stripes was some seriously sexy underwear.

When we arrived at the barracks at 1830, I was mildly surprised to find not the forty-four man Third Platoon I had expected but the entire two hundred plus complement of Bravo Company. The company commander had pulled rank and invited the rest of his command. I sent my driver back for more beer and liquor.

"I hope everyone is prepared to handle a lot of cock because I have a feeling we're not leaving until they're pussy whipped," I whispered to Lt. Mavis as we looked over the crowd. There were thirty-eight of us plus myself.

"Not a problem, Major. I'm planning a three hole night," said Lt. Mavis sizing up the Marines. The Lieutenant was a first class soldier. She could stay on her feet twelve hours in an OR until every one of the wounded was stitched up. Afterwards, she would visit the recovering men and suck and fuck the ambulatory.

After I greeted the Company commander and the platoon leaders and introduced them to my officers we opened the bar. The Marine serving as DJ started the music. And the nurses looked at the Marines and the Marines looked back. Neither side made a move to converse. Not surprising, we were soldiers in an active combat zone and loosening up for a party wasn't easy.

I'd thought we might need an icebreaker. Lt. Mavis and I ducked into a side room. We quickly kicked off our loosely tied boots and removed our fatigue shirt and trousers. I slipped on a pair of black five-inch fuck me pumps. We fluffed out our hair with brushes. Underneath her uniform the Lt. was wearing all white, a silk lace bustier with a thong panty and white stay up hose. I was the same but in black. We slapped on a thick coat of bright red lipstick then joined the party. We took maybe two minutes to change. The party was still dead when we stepped onto the dance floor and started gyrating. We'd queued the DJ so he started our music as soon as we stepped on the dance floor.

Why did I do this? Because I am an officer and a leader. At times you lead by example. Lt. Mavis and I danced together for a while. The Lieutenant did look hot. The bustier had her tits lifted almost to her chin and a quarter inch of pink areola was showing.

We tool turns doing the LA Grind. I bent over and grabbed my ankles while the Lieutenant held my hips and rubbed her cunt against my bottom. This is what leadership is all about I told myself. I could feel the Lieutenant's pussy through the thin silk material that barely covered her crotch as she stroked herself over my bare bottom.

When it came time to grind her, I pulled the narrow strip of material out of the crack of her ass and stuck my fingers in her snatch as I worked my clit against her bottom. As much as the Lieutenant had me turned on and I would like to have drug her off the dance floor for some concentrated rug munching I had larger responsibilities. I separated from the Lieutenant and coaxed one of the black enlisted men out of the crowd to dance. I made a lucky choice because he was a good dancer. The onlookers were getting into a party frame of mind. Several other nurses shed their uniform blouses and started to dance. Inside of five minutes the dance floor was packed. The Marines took off their shirts and my girls stripped down to their underwear. We were off to the races.

It wasn't long before nurses and Marines began to slip off in little groups. My dance partner was joined by two of his Afro-American buddies. I danced in the center of them. They took turns grinding me front and back. They had my cunt dripping. I needed cock in the worst way. That made me think of Bashira lying there desperate for dick in spite of her wounds. There was something important to be learned from my little Uzbek siren.

I grabbed one of my dance partners wrapped a leg around him and whispered, "Let's go somewhere and fuck. I'll do the three of you at the same time."

Earl, that turned out to be his name, took my hand, and signaled his homies to follow. Two minutes later I was taking a toke off a very serious joint as I straddled a black Marine that was guiding his cock into my well-oiled cunt. For an old woman approaching thirty what could be better than having the long black cocks of three in shape trigger pullers who hadn't reached twenty. I spent a busy hour getting drilled in all orifices. I stepped through single, double and triple penetration groaning and grunting as they slammed their hard pricks in my holes. It was rough sex as they took what they wanted from me.

After I'd taken two shots from each I decided it was time to move on. I wiped the spunk out of my cunt, gave each of them a kiss and returned to the dance. I ran into Bob, the Company Commander and he whisked me away to his quarters where I blew him, fucked him and fisted him. Seeing that I had all he could give me, I left him snoring and went to look for more cock.

When I got back to the dance, things had slowed down quite a bit so I instructed Lt. Mavis to get ready for our second show of the evening. The Lieutenant commandeered three of the Marines. They went out to our trucks and brought back a heavy canvas bag full of long metal poles. Under the Lieutenant's guidance they quickly assembled a rectangular frame that was fifteen feet across, ten feet deep and eight feet high. There were enough diagonal braces to make it rigid.

While that was happening I was busily changing into a special version of my Major's dress uniform. Lieutenants Cole and Bradley joined me in the changing room as they dressed in their dominatrix leathers that were designed to look like body armor. The three of us slipped wireless head sets on and made a sound check as a final step.

While technically this was not an S&M crowd it was a group of trained killers and what is more S&M than that. I'd decided a little exhibition of Sado-Masochism was just the ticket to crank the party back into high gear.

I heard the PA system announcing throughout the barracks that all Bravo company personnel and their guests were to report back to the main hall. I checked myself in the mirror. I looked very smart in my uniform. My two lieutenants certainly looked their part, knee high leather combat boots, waist cinching body armor/corset that exposed their tits, and several types of whips hanging from their waist.

"Here, final touch," said Betty Cole buckling a dog collar around my neck.

The spotlight hit us as we marched into the room. Both Cole and Bradley were holding a leash that lead to a spiked dog collar circling my neck. They walked me once completely around the room so the crowd could get a close look. Then they positioned me in the center of my pipe rectangle.

"Lick my boots," demanded Bradley as Cole pushed me to the floor. The crowd got quiet.

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I gave a very loving lick to the sole of Bradley's right boot.

"Now, the other one," yelled Bradley as she slammed the end of her riding crop across by skirt clad rear. I gave a little yelp then quickly bent down and licked her other sole from heel to toe.

I had to repeat my boot licking for Cole.

"How does it taste, bitch? I stepped in some dog shit right before I came inside," said Cole.

"Delicious, Mistress, Thank you for letting me lick your boots," I said. The Marines had a great sound system. Everything was coming through loud and clear.

"Now you can make love to my asshole with your mouth," said Bradley who had unsnapped the narrow band of Kevlar that bisected her butt cheeks. I was still on my knees when she bent over and reached back to spread her cheeks. I buried my face between her clefts and went to work with my tongue.

"That's right, Slave, stick your tongue in my shithole and lick it out," demanded the Lieutenant.

The wireless microphone was picking up the sounds of me lapping away at her brown eye. After I sucked Bradley's backdoor I did Cole's. Then they used the leashes to yank me to standing position.

They encircled my wrists with strapping connected to the frame. The straps used Velcro fastening so things went quickly. They pulled it tight until I was barely touching the floor. I looked like a starfish. Camera flashes were firing as the Marines captured my image. Up to that moment I was still wearing a version of a full dress uniform. My two mistresses gave it a tug on both sides and it came right off just as it was designed to. There was a collective gasp from the audience as I stood there instantly stark naked except for hose and shoes.

Lt. Mavis wheeled in a small V-shaped stand that had a large knobby dildo made from a small-bore howitzer shell mounted on the top. The three lifted me up then lowered me so the dildo slipped inside my cunt. The crowd shouted its approval as I buried that long thick piece of ordinance in my cunt.

"It's too big. It hurts," I cried as the latex clad column slithered into my hole. I squirmed around moaning and begging them to take it out. Betty bitch slapped my hard for complaining.

Next they bent my legs back to where my heels touched the back of the thighs then circled my thigh and foreleg with strapping they pulled painfully tight. In an instant all my weight was resting on my cunt and I started to beg them to take me down. I was ridding the donkey Afghan style.

When I looked around I could see Marines everywhere stroking their cocks as they watched. Practically every nurse was worrying their clit with a couple of fingers. So far so good I told myself. Bradley came up with a vicious looking alligator clamp that used a defused 57MM Soviet mortar shell as a weight. She pulled the end of my breast out then let the clamp snap as she dropped the tethered mortar shell. I screamed when the shell ran out of tether and I experienced the sensation that my tit was being ripped off. Cole did my other breast. Marines were stepping near with their cameras to get close-ups. The sharp teeth of the clamps had bitten into my flesh and there were tiny streams of blood streaking my abdomen. I'd known we'd need to show blood for this crowd.

After they clamped my tits, they did my labia. I was whining and begging them to let me go. My cunt was resting on the uneven apex of the wedge. The dildo was deep inside my birth canal and my tits and pussy lips were subjected to fiery pain.

Once I was in absolute hell, Bradley and Cole got out their whips and went to work on me. They kept me screaming for a good ten minutes. I was covered in angry looking red stripes when they were done. The crowd discovered sexual intercourse positions that allowed both partners to keep watching me suffer while they fucked. Nurses were sucking cock and fucking while they kept one eye on the action.

It was one hell of a beating and my cries of pain were very real. Bradley worked on my armpits until they went numb.

When they finished my scourging they took me off the dildo/wedge but left me hanging in mid air. I heard a crowd noise and when I turned my head I saw Corporal Bettis approaching me wearing only a dildo harness. There were two very evil looking faux cocks jutting out from her crotch. She came up behind me and put her arms around my waist.

The Corporal moved quickly to impale me on both of those bad boys. I let out an agonizing cry when she rammed the spiny cocks in my holes. The Corporal's fingers worked the nipple and labia clamps until she had me begging her to stop.

Five painful minutes of vicious double dildo fucking and she was done. They released the strapping and dropped me to the floor. When they removed the clamps I rolled around in agony as my crushed capillaries refilled with blood.

I lay there on my back as Bradley straddled me. She unsnapped the crotch of her body suit, unlimbered her urethra and pissed on me from head to toe. They made me keep my mouth open. Next, Cole and Corporal Bettis subjected me to their version of a piss bath. The spotlight went out and I scurried out of the room. There was thunderous applause that required I and the other participants return for a bow.

I had rekindled the energy of the party and seriously wild group sex commenced. I quickly cleaned up and rejoined the party. I'd applied ointment and antiseptic then joined a line of nurses who were on all fours being butt fucked by whoever wanted to enter their backdoor. I spent the rest of the party on my elbows and knees taking an uncounted number of cocks in my ass.

At 0300 I gathered my crew up and we returned to the hospital's living quarters. None of us had any idea how many Marines we screwed.