DISCLAIMER: This story includes descriptions of rape, torture, and bondage. If descriptions of sexual activity, particularly non-consenual sexual activity, offend you, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. IF YOU'RE UNDER TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF AGE, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. DANGER: THIS STORY IS POLITICALLY INCORRECT. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story may be electronically reproduced and distributed where the laws allow so long as it is not changed in any way. I've appreciated the comments and suggestions I've received from readers and welcome further comments. All flames will be ignored.
INTRODUCTION: During the Gulf War two American female servicemembers were captured by the Iraqi Army. The women were non-combatants. One was a truck driver with a bad sense of directions; the other a doctor flying in a search and rescue helicopter. Both were, to use the official phrasing, "sexually abused".
This story looks at what might have happened if women had been full combatants in that war.
It was the second day of the air war and Air Force Major Diana Barker was feeling very unhappy. Part of this was attributable to the fact that she was sitting in the back of an Iraqi army truck with her hands tied behind her back and a bag over her head. She was thirsty, her body ached from the jolt she received when she ejected from her F-16, and she was afraid. But most of all, she was pissed because she knew that she had blown it. After all the hype, the first woman combat pilot had let herself get shot down on her first combat mission. All she could think of was how this was going to screw up her plans for getting a star. She had spent the last ten years of her life working toward that goal.
She had used every resource at her command to get ahead in the air force, discovering in her first year at the academy that it was not so much a case of how good you were as how well you could manipulate the system. She soon realized that the Air Force's equal opportunity program was the perfect "ticket to ride" for someone like herself with a lot of ambition and few scruples. Those superiors she couldn't, or wouldn't, fuck, she blackmailed.
As a woman, the pressure on her superiors to ensure that she succeeded was already great; adding the threat to file a sexual harassment complaint made it irresistible. This attitude earned her the nickname of "Nutcracker." Instead of angering her, Diana was proud of the nickname, so proud that she used it as her radio callsign. A year ago when the Air Force opened fighters to women, she had been an obscure if talented captain flying C-141 transports. Now at 32, Diana Barker was a high speed, low drag major and the darling of the media. Unfortunately, the media demands of her "superstar" status had not left her the time or the inclination to master mundane matters like counter-SAM drills.
As she rode, Diana began to think that she could come out of this OK. Aside from some groping by the soldiers guarding her, no one had mistreated her. Nor was she the type to be afraid of a little "grab-ass." Diana was almost six feet tall with the buff physique of a body builder combined with a 36" chest. She was proud of her body; like everything about her from her short and sassy haircut to her choice of cars, it was part of the "Top Gun" image she had created for herself.
Diana could feel the change as the truck moved on to a hardtop road and hours later could detect the increase in sounds as they entered a city. She surmised that she must be in Baghdad. Eventually she felt the truck stop and she was hustled out and into a building. There was some conversation in Arabic which she could not understand and then more walking, this time down some stairs and through numerous doors which clanked ominously behind her. When the guards released her arms and spoke, Diana could see light through the bottom of the bag covering her head and sense the presence of several other men in the room besides her escorts. Diana was very proud of how tough she had been at the Air Force's survival, escape, and evasion school. She thought she could handle a camel jockey.
Watching her from his seat was Captain Vahid Yazeed of Saddam's special security service, one of his most promising young torturers. He had been personally selected by the Great Leader to break the first American pilots captured and turn them into propaganda weapons. Yazeed understood that the information he extracted was of minor importance. His job was to break the pilots' will, so that they would be pliable tools in the battle for American public opinion which would be waged using their own media. Though he was surprised that the first POW was a woman, it made no difference in his orders and made the task that much more appealing to him. A through sadist, Yazeed had been eagerly anticipating watching his men rape an American male pilot. Now that he had a female pilot to work on, he looked forward to participating in the rape as well. For rape was a primary tool of his trade, used to break the subject, man or woman, psychologically.
Although he had tortured Iraqi and Kurdish women, Diana would be his first Western female. Yazeed found the idea of having such a woman under his control very exciting.
"Strip her, " ordered Yazeed as he leaned back in his chair and watched.
The guards untied Diana's hands and unzipped her flight suit, then pulled it off her and set it carefully aside. Then they ripped off her T shirt, bra and panties, leaving her nude but for her combat boots, dog tags, and the bag covering her head. Diana did not try to resist them; instead she concentrated on breathing slowly and calmly. She had been told to expect this in survival school. Stripping a person of their clothes was meant to stripped them of their confidence, her instructors had told her. Still, knowing that didn't make her feel any braver right now.
Yazeed examined her body at length. He found the large breasts with their little finger size nipples to be fascinating. The breasts and particularly the nipples were a very sensitive area for a woman. He would enjoy working on a woman so amply endowed.
Her muscular body was foreign to an Arab but nevertheless appealing. Not only did it arouse him, but it would serve his purposes well since she could suffer longer before she reached her physical limit. Only her neatly trimmed pubic hair repelled him. Unlike this Western slut, respectable Arab women shaved their pubic hair.
Though he knew that he should wait longer to let the humiliation of standing nude before unseen men play upon her, Yazeed could not wait to see her face. Half afraid he would find an ugly hag, he ordered the bag removed from her head. He was pleased to find a beautiful, mature face framed by reddish brown hair.
Diana remained at attention when the guard pulled off the bag. Unaccustomed to the bright lights, she could see nothing until her eyes adjusted. Then she saw two men in front of her. One was seated; he was a clean shaven man about her age wearing a well tailored officer's uniform whose rank she did not recognize. Standing behind him in the classic flunky position was a younger, very worried looking man in a shabby uniform.
Diana ignored him and concentrated on the officer. She could sense the presence of her guards behind her but ignored them as well.
Yazeed spoke briefly. The younger man standing behind him translated, "You are in the custody of the security service. You are not a prisoner of war but a criminal guilty of crimes against the state of Iraq and will be treated accordingly. Your only hope for leniency is to cooperate fully."
"I am Major Diana Barker, serial number 309-48-8221, United States Air Force. I demand to be treated as a prisoner of war. What you are doing is contrary to the Geneva Convention; you could be tried as a war criminal for mistreating a prisoner"
It sounded a little pompous, but Diana was just pleased to have gotten through it without her voice breaking. She had to make this man understand that she was someone he couldn't push around.
At a nod of Yazeed's head the guard to her right jabbed her hard in the kidney with a short wooden club, sending her to the floor doubled up in pain. As she lay there, she dimly heard the translator tell her that the Captain did not like speeches other than his own. Another order from Yazeed had the guard haul her to her feet by her hair.
Yazeed spoke at length before the translator turned to her and said, "The Captain says that your country is foolish to use women in its air force and to use them in a war. That you will be the one to pay the price for your country's foolish ideas. Being a woman will not protect you. Nor will the Geneva Convention protect you here. What is your unit, your base location, and what was your mission?"
Diana glared at the seated officer as she replied, "Barker, Diana, Major, USAF, serial number 309-48-8221. I demand to speak to a senior officer."
As she finished her reply, a nod from Yazeed again brought a painful jab from the guard behind her. She kept her feet this time but saw stars. As she resumed her position of attention, the Iraqi officer left his chair and stood in front of her. To her disgust, he began running his hands over her breasts, weighing the heavy globes in his hands. As she clinched her fist in helpless fury, he smiled unpleasantly and spoke to the translator, giving his words emphasis by twisting her nipples.
.... There is more of this story ...