HOME | DD

Description
General Santos found himself sobbing uncontrollably. He felt like a schoolboy publicly spanked by his female teacher in front of the class, in his rage, humiliation, pain and undeserved sense of injustice. He rolled helplessly on the cell floor, naked, his impressive uniform with its rows of proud medals discarded contemptuously in the corner of the cell, his soft body open to a cold woman’s gaze. He was still handcuffed, but now tightly and cruelly behind his back, which prevented him from getting any leverage to stand; his ankles were chained too, and to complete his ignominy, Officer Elena Miccoli, no longer a sympathetic maternal figure, but now a vengeful virago, had chained him by his neck to the wall of the prison.
The female guard sat nonchalantly watching the former supreme commander of the armed forces agonisingly trying to kneel as she had ordered him, while she smoked one of the very cigarettes she had previously allowed him to keep before his ill-advised escape attempt.
“Filthy habit!” Elena remarked before flinging the stub, still lit, at the naked captive.
“Please, Elena… have mercy…” the General begged, looking for the compassionate woman who had guarded him previously.
“Shut up, traitor!” snapped the officer angrily and got down from her stool to stand over him, a vision of uniformed, booted female power. As Santos braced for a kick to his ribs, the man reflected that women took betrayal by men extremely seriously…

Source: The BritishInstitution.com

Description
General Santos found himself sobbing uncontrollably. He felt like a schoolboy publicly spanked by his female teacher in front of the class, in his rage, humiliation, pain and undeserved sense of injustice. He rolled helplessly on the cell floor, naked, his impressive uniform with its rows of proud medals discarded contemptuously in the corner of the cell, his soft body open to a cold woman’s gaze. He was still handcuffed, but now tightly and cruelly behind his back, which prevented him from getting any leverage to stand; his ankles were chained too, and to complete his ignominy, Officer Elena Miccoli, no longer a sympathetic maternal figure, but now a vengeful virago, had chained him by his neck to the wall of the prison.
The female guard sat nonchalantly watching the former supreme commander of the armed forces agonisingly trying to kneel as she had ordered him, while she smoked one of the very cigarettes she had previously allowed him to keep before his ill-advised escape attempt.
“Filthy habit!” Elena remarked before flinging the stub, still lit, at the naked captive.
“Please, Elena… have mercy…” the General begged, looking for the compassionate woman who had guarded him previously.
“Shut up, traitor!” snapped the officer angrily and got down from her stool to stand over him, a vision of uniformed, booted female power. As Santos braced for a kick to his ribs, the man reflected that women took betrayal by men extremely seriously…

Source: The BritishInstitution.com