The orderly queue had slowly but surely descended into a jostling chaotic snake of passengers. The normal Western reserve had begun to crumble as more and more military vehicles appeared on the airport tarmac and outside the entrance hall. The military coup had come so quickly that even the international news agencies were only just getting the first patchy information. The presidential palace had been stormed and although the world carried on around them things had changed. Everyone in the queue felt the sword of Damocles over their head as if any moment their freedom would be snatched from their grips.

Zoë and Jonathan had arrived just in time. As an engineer working on the great dam Jonathan had somehow been tipped the nod by sympathetic colleagues; revolution was in the air and he and his wife should get out while they could. The roads were almost completely blocked by now, but with the tip off they had managed to get here early enough for a ticket on a plane out.

The pass port control continued its shambolic attempt at security and visa examination acting oblivious to the worried passengers and the flurry of armed soldiers racing to and thro. The military were seizing the complex around them but the two airport staff acted as if this was an everyday occurrence and eyeballed each passenger with suspicion as if to say why should I let you leave today?

"Oh shit" Jonathan said a little radio to his ear. "The news says that they've restricted the airspace no more planes in."

Zoë looked out of the window at their airliner sat on the shimmering runway the pilot no doubt as eager to leave as his queuing passengers. She thanked God they had a ticket. They had been guests of the outgoing regime, here to construct and improve, but technically they were government employees.

"Jon," she asked nervously, as out of the corner of her eyes she saw two soldiers dragging a blood covered official."

"They've already started their purges," he replied under his breath

One of many that they would round up today no doubt. She surmised.

"Just keep moving forward," Jonathan whispered in her ear, the passport check in getting closer and closer.

To the right of them a door opened and a big African man in camouflage uniform appeared. He had guards and what looked like an airport official next to him; and as he stood arms folded Zoë and Jon turned their heads and looked to the ground.

The man looked up and down the queue. These fucking westerners running like rats. So typical! His orders had been to seize the airport. No more no less; but the civilian clothed man next to him had suggested that chaos and mob rule does not come around everyday. The smaller man was a secret police traitor. He had betrayed many of his old colleagues for the sake of the glorious uprising, and now high on fear and adrenaline he wanted to take whatever opportunity arose in this bedlam.

"Explain again?" Said the gruff rebel officer; the smaller older man nodding and pointing.

"There," he replied, "I would suggest those two."

The soldier followed the finger towards a tall late twenties white woman. She was dressed in a gold one piece dress the fabric clinging to her thin frame. She was blonde with shoulder length straight hair, slight black roots under her peroxide tint. She had small tits with a fabulous lithe figure, those long shapely legs down to heeled sandals. Her dark lashed eyes with small deep black pupils had blue massacre framing the sexy piercing stare.

Zoë looked across and caught the return gaze of the soldier and his acquaintance.

"Oh shit" She said looking down again. "What are they doing?"

The officer approached two troopers at his side.

"Miss, Sir," he said bowing his head in deference. "Please I need you to come with me."

"Why? Er we're due to..."

The officer had already snapped his fingers his guards closing hands on the triggers of their AK 47's.

The couple began to stutter as the soldiers directed them towards the nearby room. The guards made it clear they would have to move and as passengers looked ominously on the couple were casually but firmly escorted out of the queue.

Once inside the side room they closed the door letting the couple stand there the heat and official attention claustrophobic.

Jon handed over their passports and then carefully but quickly answered their questions.

"Married, yes"

"The dam, we've been here 6 months."

"No I'm not an official of the president, I'm a private contractor."

The smaller man wiped his brow but did not speak allowing the officer to do the questioning.

Now Zoë had to answer questions.

"No I've never met the president,"

"No I know nothing about that."

"Yes, yes I would like to leave, so would my husband."

The smaller man suddenly interrupted with his own question.

There was a pause from the bemused couple.

"What?" She replied.

Zoë thought she miss heard, "I don't..."

He repeated, enunciating clearly.

"Are you a bitch?"

Zoë looked at her husband her feet a little fidgety as she stood in her heels.

"Please we just..." She added trying to negotiate.

"You look like a bitch," he added getting up walking towards her.

"Now I've jus..." Jon was about to protest when suddenly he was gripped by the two guards. They began to scuffle with him the officer barring the door the smaller man gripping Zoë's wrist as she screamed.

"Slap!"

She coughed and spluttered the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Her husband was been pushed into a chair his hands bound behind his back. Jon was struggling but the two rebel soldiers had tied him tightly to the chair and then gagged him with a neckerchief. Zoë backed away to the corner hand over her mouth in shock. She didn't know what to do she had no way of forcing her way out.

Once her husband was secure the officer gave an order and both his troops took position outside the door. Zoë caught a glimpse of worried faces as passengers looked in for a mere second before the door slammed shut again.

"I, I, I demand..." Zoë was cut short.

"Please, please miss there is no need for all this unpleasantness." The big officer raised his hands to calm her down. "You're plane is still here, though I think it will be the only one leaving for some time."

The sinister little man opened a note book as if in thought.

"We are rounding up all presidential associates for interview; your husband will have to stay."

"He's nothing to do with the president," she shouted again, her eyes wide and ferocious.

"I think he is!" Shouted the officer in reply; his deep black skin glistening with sweat.

The secret police man was now the one to raise his hand to diffuse the situation.

"Look we can have all this sorted and you and your husband on the aircraft." He paused, "the last aircraft out of here."

Zoë looked to her husband tied to a chair gag in his mouth his eyes looking frantic. She could hear voices outside, the whole world seemed to want to leave but she was trapped inside this windowless room. The little man saw her confusing and continued.

"Which brings me back to my question? Are you a bitch?"

Zoë just looked at him nervously her face perplexed then eyes searching the walls as if to find the answer.

"What does he want me to say?" She thought her head swimming. So she just stood there open mouthed looking dumb.

The two men looked at each other then back to her. She was very pretty. Her golden straight cut hair framed a high cheek boned slim face. Her lips were wide and well painted her nose a strong pointed tip. She had manicured nails and expertly plucked eyebrow. If you had enough money even third world countries had beauticians.

They looked her up and then down to her expensive gold sling back shoes. She looked more like she was off to the president's ball rather than fleeing the country.

"Miss undress please."

"What..." She was starting to sound repetitive.

They said it again.

Zoë shook her head repeating no over and over. The two men seemed unfazed and lit cigarettes the officer opening the door and looking out. He spoke to the guards then closed the door the noise of jostling passenger fading...

"I've sent for transport. It'll take some time though; the roads are littered with bodies and barricades. Once it's here we'll get you two down to the newly liberated prison."

The ex government police man smiled. "I know it well; empty now I believe except for enemies of the revolution." He had spent many years dealing pain and humiliation in that place. He quietly smiled at his fortune at changing sides at this ideal moment.

"Please we haven't done anything wrong," Zoë said her dress now clinging to her sweaty body provocatively.

"I'm sure you haven't but we can invent something before they get here," the officer added unashamedly. Zoë's eyes widening at the realization. How many people would die on false accusations before this revolution was over. She didn't want her husband to be one more of them.

She decided to diffuse the situation.

"I'll co-operate of course I will but my clothes?" She asked sweetly, her beautiful piercing pupils trying to read in his amicable face for what he intended. The officer continued explaining.

"Miss, you can leave once we have finished our investigation, get on your plane and fly away." He than grimaced,"or you can go to our prison. Have you ever been in an African prison?" The rebel soldier unbuttoned his shirt showing lacerations burned deep into his chest from his experiences there.

He then stroked along her arm Zoë feeling repulsed but frozen in disbelief. "I doubt a body as fragile as yours would feel at home there." He added sympathetically.

She looked to the door but no one came in, or was likely to. She was so close but so far from western niceties.

"I just want us to get on the plane," she said pitifully. "I'll do what you ask but please there no need to hurt us."

The small man nodded in understanding delighted she had seen sense. "Of course you do; I just need to clear up a few matters." Then he explained what the two rebels had been debating when they first appeared.

"Over my years of work I have found many ways to get a confession, however pain is very close to pleasure and I have seen many women convulse in ecstasy while I work on them."

There was a scoff of indignity from Zoë and muffled grunt of protest from her husband.

He looked at her passport as he spoke." I have already asked you miss... Zoë, are you a bitch? If you are you'll come many times from my handy work like a bitch on heat before your plane leaves."

Zoë shook her head," No, no, no! No way you fucking filthy pig. I've changed my mind. I want to see who's in charge." She couldn't believe what he was saying so casually.

"Miss Zoë," the interrogator said, laughing with and slapping the watching officer fondly on the back, "I am in charge, as far as you should be concerned."

His manner then changed.

"Undress now you fucking white cow or I'll personally castrate your husband long before he reaches the prison."

Zoë looked at Jon he was shaking his head but was completely helpless, outside there were gun shots and screams. The airport was starting to disintegrate into a riot. The two men moved menacingly closer.

She had no choice it was beginning to dawn on her. She had maybe an hour before the plane left, probably less before their prison truck arrived. There was so much confusion and anarchy outside who would notice them gone. She bit her bottom lip thinking through her options. It took her seconds to realise she had none.

She slowly slipped her straps from her dress allowing it to fall to the floor. The men admired her long thin naked body, small pert breast and the slightest of thong panties. Her legs curved up from heels to an hourglass waist hips looking fuller than reality against her 20 inch waist. Her skin began to sweat instantly with nerves and heat. She saw the expressions of lust on the men's faces.

"Please what are... uhhhhhh?"

The two men had not waited for her to finish they were on her strong hands gripping her wrists, other hands on her ass and inside the strap of her panties.

"Get down on the table," they ordered both working hurriedly, Jon writhing in his seat.

She gave grunts of embarrassment as they laid her on to her back along the wooden table. The men held a knee each opening her legs hooking the insides of her knees onto the corners of the flat surface so her calves hung down and with her feet stretching her toes hung less than a foot from the floor.

She gave a embarrassed, hesitant grunt. She was on her back thighs provocatively wide her thong barley hiding her wax pussy. She felt like she was on a hospital bed about deliver. But these were no doctors. Her head was dizzy, the heat, the situation moving too fast. She was on her back and now they had rope in their hands!

The interrogator now showed his expertise in restraint by tying a small but firm cord around each of the cute woman's big toes. He then pulled the rope taut fastening the other end around the base of each table legs. Now she was bound in this open exposed position.

Zoë put her hands over her groin and thong panties in embarrassment but the men gently took a hand each then purposefully moved them away, then the officer pulled her wrists over her head and together.

"It is easier if you're fully bound," he said looping a rope around her wrists then using the back legs of the table to securely bind her hands.

Zoë was panting and sweating heavily her small perfect domes bobbing up and down her head tilting trying to look down over her chest, over her flat tummy to between her thighs. She could see her husband sat gagged, facing her looking straight between her open legs

"Oh god please."

The officer stood back and folded his arms. "Now my small friend show me what you claim you can do."

The interrogator smiled and nodded as he admired the prostrate woman.

The struggle had made Zoë s body become a torrent of perspiration she was glowing a rich bronze her soft skin looking like she had applied all over tanning lotion. As her chest rose and fell in pants the men resisted the temptation to grip and squeeze her ripe hard domes.

Snap! She heard her husband gruff moans as her thong came away.

Zoë's pussy was almost bare just the slightest trimmed line of hair from her slit tip towards her belly button. The sweaty skin glistened like she had already been aroused the beads forming around her bare entrance.

"Oh god stop please ugh ohh no oohhhhhhhhhh!"

The mans hands pushed her thighs wider though she was stretched adequately his thumbs pressing either labia opening her slit the pink flesh inside brilliant against her darkening hot skin.

"Ohh, no stop stop touching meee uggggg!" She nipped her lip as his thumbs continued to open her pressing up towards her clit.

"Ah there it is." He said almost to himself.

One hand pressed either side of her entrance pushing down opening her private place his other hand at work fingers nipping and circling attacking her bud with soft tender touches and hard biting pinches