The line of new recruits had arrived from several of the smaller towns around the area.  And she'd been just "lucky" enough to have been one of the trained soldiers to salute and greet them as they came off the train.  Just what she always wanted.  To be a decoration on and off the battlefield.  It was disgusting.  But then, it was better than having your legs blown off, wasn't it?
        As the new kids lined up in front of the building, she and those that stood next to her did as they were instructed; saluted, turned, and marched away.  Only, she hadn't planned on going as far as the others.  While they headed back to the meaningless tasks they had been doing before they were "hand picked" by he general as a greeting line, she ducked in a tent and waited for the rest of them to pass.
        If anyone knew a way out of this godforsaken place, it was a new recruit.  They had insights that she was shut off from; mainly the outside world.  She waited until the last glimmer of her line was well into the walled base before she emerged to take a walk around the ornery newcomers.  One of them was bound to be the know-it-all who wanted to prove it to everyone.  Maybe one was money-hungry and knew a good transport out.  Or better.  It was a dream, but it was a valid one.  She knew for a fact a few had gotten out alive.  She also knew almost all of those had been hunted down and mysteriously killed, however.
        Better than this shit.  She reminded herself, placing her hands behind her back and walking through the still lively crowd.  Her eyes found a wonderful assortment of smiles and grins that hadn't yet seen the terrors that she had of late.  She knew they'd been trained only to basic capacity.  Most of the time that meant all they'd been through was having to sleep in bunk beds and eat only two meals a day.  They just didn't know how lucky they were.
        Back and forth, she strolled.  But there didn't seem to be any know-it-alls in this bunch.  Very little eye contact, as well.  Not a good sign.  That usually meant there would be a lot of suicides in this lot before they were done training here.  And there was no hope for her that day.  Always tomorrow, though...
        Then she spotted something that caught her attention.  A loner, off to the side, just sort of smiling at what another group of guys were saying rather than joining in.  The sound of his laughter was instantly etched into her mind; she hadn't heard laughter in a long time.  And his voice was so... unpoisoned.  Not to mention the fact that he was truly a gorgeous guy.  What he was doing in some scum factory like this was unimaginable.  But then, she could see how he may think the same of her.  She wasn't exactly "military fodder".  But neither was he, by the look of things.  He was neither heavily muscled or... masculine.  He was more "lovely" than "handsome", for instance.  Whatever he was, it was... nice.  As he made glancing eye contact with her, she realized that she hadn't seen beauty of any sort in a long while.  It only made her feel a little more depressed as she turned and went back to the barracks empty-handed.  After her work was done, she planned to sleep off the depression rather than drink it off like the others.
 

        She woke rather suddenly to a chilled breeze playing across her back.  Maybe it was just an usual dream, but it felt real enough to shock her from a relatively comfortable sleep.  Unfortunately, the coolness didn't stop once her eyes were open.  In fact, it only heightened with an added sensation of fear and being paralyzed.
        She'd been trained well.  Maybe over-trained.  She tugged at her arms to prepare to fight off what her instincts told her was an intruder; but her arms weren't going anywhere.  They were securely tied to her single bar headboard.
        "This is what they did to me..." a distinct male voice tremored behind her.
        So, it was him.  The recruit that had made eye contact with her; she recognized the voice instantly.  He'd done this to her.  How she couldn't have felt him tying her hands to the headboard was beyond her, and more so was how he could have gotten her to turn onto her stomach.  She never slept like that.
        "So often..." he continued to whisper, finally moving from where he knelt at the edge of the bed.
        She felt him lightly climb on top of her, but no part of him touched her--yet.  Her nerves certainly didn't help the possible scenarios playing out in her head.  Somehow no touch at all was worse than an unwelcome one.
        He finally let his hands glide gently over her hips, shaking with something that could be fear, anticipation, or both.  So soft.  She was so, gloriously, elegantly soft.  So different from anything he'd known before.  So lovely, delicate, untouched... but he was not an idiot.  He knew a girl like the one he'd captured certainly wasn't "pure".  Not in a place like this.  But he wasn't seeking the purity that so many before him probably had.  He was seeking the place where, by all appearances, no one had traveled before.  The awful place.  The much more hidden place for a female.  But her, this girl underneath him, still did not resemble anything dirty.  She was more pure than anything he'd ever touched before.  Maybe he could purify himself.  Or maybe he could filthy her.
        She let a light gasp seep past her lips and held her eyes closed tightly.  She wasn't sure what to do.  She'd never been in such a situation before.  Worse yet was the fact that she didn't entirely mind the attention she was receiving.  Unwanted, yes.  Undeserved, probably.  Unwelcome?  Well...
        It was then that his muscles tensed.  She felt it, the readiness of the air around her.  His hands trailed to the soft roundness of her ass, and she knew what he wanted.  He was simply quivering with the anticipation of taking it, stealing it from her.
        "Oh no."  She growled.  The mere guttural roar in those words alone may have been enough to throw him off of her.  But he was holding on tightly, and he knew what he wanted too much for her to sway him.  "You can fuck me, or you can make love to me.  But you will not rape me."
        The words took several seconds to sink in.  Had she just said what he thought she'd said?  Did she think she had any control like this?  "And how do you propose that you will be able to help it?"
        Almost hating herself, she held back all sounds, fought to control her breathing.  She was no longer unsure of the situation.  In fact, now it was getting... interesting.  "The drawer... there's some lubricant on the left side."
        He shook his head in awe.  His power had been chopped short, but his erection never wavered.  In fact, just knowing that she actually wanted it a little bit, too... it helped, to say the least.  Just another surprise of the night.  Without leaving her, he leaned over and pulled the nightstand drawer open.  Certain enough, there was a small jar to the left.  He unscrewed the top and inspected the label.  No scent, no flavor, no color.  Just pure, absolute, fucking ability.  Incredible.  She wanted what had been taken from him again and again.  And he didn't really mind.
        The carnal need, the aggression of the desperate desire he was focussing on, didn't seem to impede him much.  He'd never done it this way before.  He'd never been on top before, let alone tried to make it a pleasurable experience.  Somehow that urged in the back of his mind that he take his time.  He took a scoop with his finger, and slowly began to work it into her.
        By then she was a mass of panting, writhing, unfeminine lust.  She, too, had never been taken like that before.  Truth be told, she'd never really considered it that much.  She knew the ins and outs, so to speak, but had never really thought of attempting.  Feeling his slick finger delving into her untouched place was gruesomely erotic.  And, while she may never admit it, a little part of her was actually quite turned on by the fact that this would be the first time her captor was to be in complete and unquestionable control of the situation.
        As a second finger joined in, she found herself unable to hold back the occasional soft moans.  It felt good.  A sinful, wonderful feeling of warmth took her, and she couldn't help but lightly buck against his attentions.
        He was also enjoying this, somehow.  Watching her writhe helplessly underneath him as he prepared to claim her all for himself...  The moment she was relaxed enough for a third finger, he couldn't take it anymore.  To hell with her comfort, he hadn't come here for that.  Fuck, rape, whatever.  Anything but love.  He spread some more lubricant on his steady erection and tossed the jar out of the way.
        She felt the head touch her entrance just a little too quickly to completely be ready for it.  There was no way she ever could have fully prepared herself, though.  She knew there would be pain, maybe even blood.  But at this point, she was sure it would be worth it.
        Regardless of his need to desecrate her, he pressed himself in slowly.  With one deep breath, he braced and bucked carefully and softly forward once, twice, three times, nearly all the way in on the fourth attempt.  All he could do was close his eyes and gasp for breath, feeling a tightness and a heat around him that he'd never even imagined existed.
        The inner walls of her untouched place were searing with feverish heat and pain.  There was a fullness, a pressure that she had never felt before that sent half pleasurable and half painful bursts up her spine.  With each buck, she swallowed a breath and bit back too loud a sound with the pillow.  She loved it, she enjoyed it; but it hurt.  Even as she felt him seated all the way inside, she felt like the torment could go on forever.  But below that pain, that sharp aching, was an incredible pleasure starting to move outward.
        With no more left to press within her, he collapsed on top of her body for a moment, feeling her back radiate fantastic heat.  It was all he could do not to lose control there and then.  Her pleasure was not so important to him, but he knew it would be better if he could wait.  Maybe better for the two of them.  That was a very new idea.
        Slowly, he rose again on his hands and knees, and began to pull himself out.  Not all the way, just enough to get the full sensation of it.  Then, he just as carefully pressed himself all the way back inside of that heat, that tightness that begged him to surrender himself immediately.  Panting, he repeated the motion, just a little faster this time.  He slid a little further out and bucked forward a bit, then slid the rest of the way in.
        She was writhing with previously unknown sensations below him, moaning and squeaking like she never had before.  The pain was receding swiftly, leaving room only for an electric current of pleasure she had no idea she could feel from such a practice.  Each time he pulled out and thrust himself back inside, a little faster each time, she ground her hips into the firm mattress.  It was glorious.  It was breath-taking.
        Now even he couldn't entirely control all of the sensations racing through him.  He cried out in gasps and pants with thoughtless sounds of pleasure.  A moan, a grunt, a hissing gasp here and there kept the rhythm as he found himself getting faster and faster.  The edge was coming.  What he sought, he was about to find.  He knew what he wanted, and his head was just clear enough to ask for it.  "Please..." he panted, decreasing the frequency of his thrusts just enough to keep him away from the impending edge, "Please, beg me to stop..."
        So he wants to rape me after all... she thought between her own lusting gasps.  But this time she couldn't say she minded.  This time, that's all she wanted.  She had never been taken like that before.  She had been a lucky one, to have been treated more or less like a lady in her encounters.  But now, all she wanted was that power torn from her.  Not completely, not forever, but right here, right now.
        Swallowing any and all pride she may have held on to in the beginning, she obeyed.  "Please stop..." she began in a whisper.  When the thrusting got more intense, and both of their releases raced closer, it came out as a full, pleading scream.  "Stop!  Ple- god-- please, stop!"
        His releasing cry was something akin to a panther's scream as he rammed her one final time with his deathblow.  It felt as though all life, all heat, all consciousness was draining from his body in a massive stream of white.  He slumped, boneless, over her incredibly hot body.
        As soon as she had felt that final thrust, heard his magnificent scream (one of which she'd never heard before), she'd fallen to her own release.  She barely felt his weight on her as instant pleasure overwhelmed every part of her being.  It was exquisite.