The Lion's Cage Ch. 01

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A woman is captured and placed in a cell with men.
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I sat, in a vague state of fright and bewilderment. Two very normal feelings that any sane person would respond with when presented with my current situation. However my annoyance and slight lack of interest as I gazed into the heat rippling through the desert, was not something that usually went hand in hand with being held hostage in the back of a stolen truck. With 5, practically army trained, men. Who think you are also a man.

To clear the confusion my brash description may have created in the quickest possible way: I am a woman of 21, barely not a virgin and extremely bored with life. I decided to join a gang rivalry that could be considered to be a small war between countries, not through any obligation, in fact I was quite intelligent in school. However going back to my previous statement, I found myself very bored and with nothing much to lose, so I jumped headfirst into danger to get some kicks. When my pride is at stake I don't go down without a fight.

As to why my fellow captors think I am a man? Common sense. I thought this through, war dogs with just as little to lose as me can be rougher sexually than I would like to expose myself too. In all honesty I was surprised that people believed I was male, I covered my tied back, long, brown hair with a hood and never looked any one in the eye and spoke with a gruffness that made me feel foolish, but that was it. When we were in the field, my height, 5' 8'', and deadly precision made the role fairly easy to master. When imprisoned? Even if I keep my fellow captors fooled, that barrier might not be enough.

As the truck slowed, I kept my wits about me; silently judging our surroundings and visually mapping the landscape for a sense of security in perhaps knowing my own location. I mentally processed... Desert. Brilliant. Biting back a smile at my usual carefree attitude, I took the opportunity to look at the solemn faces of the people sitting near me, trying to replicate their body language. I found that boring and couldn't even try to look so serious. I pressed my chin hard against my chest so the others couldn't see my stupid smile, our demeanour was like night and day. Training my expression to a subtle poker face, I studied the other's facial features and judged the size of their penises. They were all six feet or above, with strong large hands. I really needed to work on looking manly, the 5 sitting next to me couldn't have had anything less than a solid 6-7 inches. Minimum. One of them looked up at me without warning and I dropped my wide eyes reflexively, cursing without parting my lips for being so blatant.

A medium built man with a gun in one hand stood by the opening doors of the truck. The man looked around my height. I'd love this guy to be huge, while the guys I'm sitting with should be embarrassed about their small packages, just for the sake of irony. Maybe I should be supporting my side? I very much felt like slapping myself at that point, and worked on shutting my thoughts up as we were led through a camouflaged door in the sand. I hardly looked up as we were led through a few crude underground passages, I just watched the slightly brown, trampled sand pass beneath my feet. Remembering the exact turns and passages to take, just in case.

As we left the corridor and entered a room, I looked up. There were 3 bunk beds, in a room that could fit around 9 bunk beds if it were literally stuffed to the brim. Three solid walls and the other devoted to thick iron bars, impossible to escape. Of course, I wouldn't be able to get very far in this terrain anyway. I quickly took the bunk bed furthest away from the door, and climbed on the top. I'm pretty sure I saw some prison documentary and people fought for the bottom bunk, I shouldn't be causing too many problems here.

"Who's the weird guy?"

"Who?"

"The one who just took the furthest bunk, just jumped straight to the top."

"No idea. Seems like a pushover, proper scrawny too."

Brilliant, it seems like doing nothing gets me even more noticed. God, I hope they drop it. What if I'm made to talk? HAH, that's genius! What if I CAN'T talk? I'll be mute, there'll be something wrong with my throat. With an air of smugness, I curled up further into the rough blankets, getting comfortable satisfactorily.

My ears pricked up as I heard the door opening, but couldn't really be bothered to turn my head. I heard glimmers of conversation along the lines of "...got you too?" And "Yeah but I cracked a few skulls before they got me to the ground..."

A new member joins the prison club, I thought sourly. He sounds a little cocky, too. I wonder what he'll make of the one bed too little situation.

I smirked as someone finally pointed out the lack of beds, but his response scared me a little. "Some guy came up to me, I'd bet my life he ain't no solider, and said there ain't enough beds. Two days time there's gonna be a... Contest sorta thing and the loser dies. Well 'e said 'gets taken from the room' but I ain't got high hopes. They're holdin' us hostage for ransom money, we ain't gonna die here. But 'e told me the troops back at home are paying for six, only six."

I turn my head to look at their reactions, hoping to see some fear. Though my eyes instantly snapped to the newcomer. That, I thought wildly, has to be one of the biggest men I've ever seen. 6' 5"? Maybe 6' 6"? And I bet he's no smaller than 9 inches. Irony, I don't know where your interests lie... but I'd really welcome a helping hand down here.

"Hey, you."

I prayed that voice wasn't talking to me.

"You deaf? I'm talking to you."

I sat up to see where the voice was coming from, I saw someone sitting at the bottom of the far bunk looking intently at me. I cocked my head slightly in response.

"Where you from? I haven't heard of anyone like you fighting for us."

I pointed at my throat and shook my head, trying to look desperate and unhappy, all while hiding my face as much as is unsuspicious.

"He asked you a question." The newcomer said threateningly. I repeated the gesture more desperately. Anyone THAT sure of himself can't be below 9", I thought glumly.

"I don't think he can talk." The person on the top middle bunk said quietly. I nodded and made a brief thumbs up before turning back into my bed again.

"Probably why ya never 'erd of him"

A few laughs emanated from the bunks. I'd rather be the butt of the joke than those guys inside MY butt. I winced at the loose connection of the two topics. Finally I concluded that I needed to stop connecting everything to sex.

An hour or two passed, I began to get restless as the others got into their beds and stopped the conversations. I let my hands slide across my body, welcoming the peace and quiet. My breasts were tightly pressed down by bandages to prevent suspicion. Not that there's much there, I reasoned. I let my fingers lightly circles my nipples, feeling the blood quickly lifting them into hard little nubbins. As my fingertips gently tingled the surface of the delicate buds, I occasionally flicked and felt the small jolt go straight to my vagina. Keeping one hand teasingly circling my left nipple, my right went straight down to my clit, stopping only to wet the tip of my finger with my saliva. I rubbed the very top of the gently hardening delicacy, the rough of my finger being enough to stimulate wetness from my vagina that would drip if I were able to take my hand away. With this new lubricant, simply circling my clit brought me closer and closer to orgasm.

The blankets were ripped from my bed in one lighting flash. I ripped my hands away from myself and let out a small cry, or curse, or threat. Whatever it was, the after effect was a deadly silence that seeped down to my soul as I knew everyone had their full, shocked and wildly curios attention on me, my bunk, and the 6' 6" guy standing over me, glaring.

"I thought you said you couldn't talk."

Oh thank god he didn't see what I was doing! But... Now there's this dilemma. Just thank GOD he didn't see what I was doing!

"You sound a hell of a lot like a little bitch." My face drained of colour.

"You sure you're a guy?" It went another shade whiter.

"Prove it, I'm happy to do it by force."

"Get the hell off me," was my strangled response.

With a speed betraying his size, he grabbed my leg and wrenched it off the bed with a more suitable strength. I quickly caught myself by grabbing the frames of the two bunks I was yanked between. I was precariously holding myself up, yet I still managed to rip my leg free and send it straight back to his face, causing him to stumble back a little with, what I hoped, might be a nosebleed. As I awkwardly replanted my feet on the ground, I was, for the first time today, thankful of my reflexes. I dodged a swift yet powerful swing from his fist, and jabbed him quickly in the guts with a kick for underestimating me. He leaned over, as if his stomach was hurt, then shot straight forwards, hands aiming for my top. His lunge was concluded with the rip of my top, the bandages clearly trying to hide the lump protruding from my chest. He grinned,

"I knew it."

Biting back angry tears, I quickly punched him squarely in the nose and threw myself back onto the bed. I could feel the hungry stares of the rest of the room on my back, but strangely no one bothered me for the rest of the night. I slept very briefly, randomly tensing at the idea of a hand on my shoulder. The humour had gone from my mood.

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evebroughtanaxthistimeevebroughtanaxthistimeover 7 years ago

This could be a gem. Write it.

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Please write more

I really liked this story and I would really like you to continue

CHL88CHL88over 7 years ago
Nice start

Questions, which could be addressed in later installments: First, wouldn't she have been captured with other members of her unit, who might know her or at least defend her? Second, what had she done with her voice before she was captured to keep her secret? It seems odd that she would have been operating and captured alone. Third, is this group multi-national, multi-lingual, multi-religious? Those things, which might be possible with a force that includes non-interested combatants like the narrator, could make the story more interesting.

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