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Frank awoke to his head throbbing against cool, smooth concrete. A stale odor hung in the damp air as he blinked forcibly, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
He could make out certain fixtures, like an oblong object to his right that was more than likely a toilet, a thin blanket crumpled in the corner. He winced as beams of amber light suddenly poured through what he now recognized as the bars of a jail cell.
“Fuck.”
Frank was slapped with what he hoped were merely trace memories of a drunken nightmare. Armed guards stormed into his room in the middle of the night and dragged him from his bed, feet first, into the hotel hallway.
He was sleeping off the multitude of drinks that were shoved into his hands in the lobby bar earlier that night. It’s not like there was much to do in Draag, in general, but even more so for foreigners, who were confined to a single regime-approved hotel in the capital city and were not permitted to mingle with the locals unsupervised.
Frank caught glimpses of life in the city as he was shuttled from place to place with a group of a dozen foreigners. They were artists and entertainers, invited to visit the country for a cultural exchange of sorts. Frank hoped to give the youth of Draag their first taste of good ol’ American rock-and-roll, but instead, he ended up performing for a crowd of mostly stone-faced elites, military brass, and their disinterested children.
And so Frank chose to drink to distract himself from the bizarre situation he found himself in, thinking fondly of his flight back home the following morning.
The guards murmured amongst themselves in Keposhka as they tore through Frank’s belongings, clearly searching for something specific. A man emerged from the room moments later grasping a crumpled up piece of paper. He unfurled it to reveal the image of the Immortal Dictator positioned below bold red lettering that Frank couldn’t decipher even if he were stone cold sober.
In a moment of clarity, he recognized the object as a propaganda poster. And he was definitely not supposed to have that.
“В𐊀𑀐σ'𐊿 σ𐊀𑀕𐊿, σ𐊀𖼞ӿ?” the guard questioned him. “What’s this, then?”
Frank stammered, insisting he didn’t know how the poster found its way into his room. He was telling the truth.
Having heard enough, the guard struck Frank with the butt of his rifle, and a sinister smile was the final thing he saw before blacking out on the carpet.
His cell was illuminated by a light from down the hallway. It glinted off the bars of adjacent cells, but he couldn’t make out if anyone was inside. The sound of stomping boots echoed down the corridor, filling Frank with dread as they drew closer.
He squinted at the silhouettes that appeared in the doorway. One poured over a ring of keys while the other stood silently, leather gloved hands adjusting their grip on his gun.
“Do not move,” the guard said as the heavy door opened slowly. It’s not like Frank could, even if he wanted to.
They hoisted the guitarist to his feet and pulled him into the hallway, moving sluggishly for a few moments as he found his footing. The hallway seemed impossibly long.
Frank caught glimpses of other prisoners as they traversed the corridor. He saw both men and women looking on with black, harrowing eyes.
The guards stopped at a thick wooden door and pushed it open to reveal a spacious, ornately decorated office with a large desk on the opposite side. They dragged Frank inside and pushed him to his knees before leaving him alone.
Frank didn’t dare move. He had nearly worked up the courage to lift his gaze from the concrete floor in front of him when he heard a conversation taking place on the other side of the door.
The creak of the door opening was punctuated by the sound of high heels stepping into the room.
“ɸ𖼞𑀐h𖼞 ꓘ𖼞 в𑀕σ𐊀 𐊀𑀕ꓘ,” a new voice said to the guards outside. “Leave me with him.”
Frank held his breath, his heartbeat roaring in his ears alongside the distinctive click of the heels approaching. With his eyes glued to the floor, he exhaled as a pair of shiny black stilettos stepped into view.
He lifted his gaze just slightly, for only a moment. His wet eyes locked onto a pair of stocking-clad calves topped with a well-fitted pencil skirt that hit perfectly at the knee.
Two leather gloved fingers found their way beneath his chin, forcing Frank to lock eyes with a beautiful - yet terrifying - stranger dressed in military garb.
“You’ve been a very bad boy, haven’t you?” Gerard said, the corners of her mouth slipping into a smirk around her thick accent.
Frank was breathing again, albeit shallow. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his head as the woman - well, he wasn’t quite sure they were a woman, but he wasn’t quite sure about a lot of things - gestured to an old-school television next to the desk.
Gerard pressed play on the tape and Frank’s stomach sunk as the screen flickered to reveal surveillance camera footage from the hotel. His drunken self stumbled into view and Frank looked on as he snatched a poster off the wall before continuing in the direction of his room.
The screen went dark, revealing that Frank’s earlier encounter with the guard left him with a black eye. He had only a moment to dwell on his injury before his gaze shifted back to Gerard, eyes wide with panic.
“I - I didn’t mean to-” Frank stammered, and Gerard shushed him, removing her jacket to reveal a pristine white button-down. She perched herself on the desk, crossing one leg over the other.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, theft of a Draag cultural artifact is a serious offense,” Gerard said, slipping off her military hat and running a hand through her hair. “But I can assure you our prison accommodations are quite comfortable.”
Bewildered, Frank simply blinked back at her, his stomach churning with anxiety and several other feelings he couldn’t even begin to place. His gaze slipped down Gerard’s legs again. He could just barely see the start of her stockings where the skirt was riding up. Frank swore he could see his reflection in the patent leather shoes.
“But you see, you caught me in a good mood today,” Gerard said. “I’d be willing to let you go, if you can provide me a very sincere apology.”
“I’m so sorry,” Frank said, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he looked up at her. “It was a stupid mistake, I didn’t even know-”
Gerard cut him off with an abrupt slap to the face with her gloved hand.
“Shut up,” she said before slapping him again. A tear broke free and slipped down Frank’s cheek, which was tingling and turning pink from the assault.
“I meant a non-verbal apology,” Gerard said, a wicked smile sneaking across her face as two fingers slipped past Frank’s lips and into the warmth of his mouth.
Frank’s eyes lost focus at the sensation of smooth leather on his tongue. He blinked slowly as he sucked on her fingers, sinking into the feeling of fear and arousal that was pooling in his abdomen.
“I have a punishment in mind for you,” Gerard said, pushing her fingers deeper, eliciting an involuntary moan from Frank. He gagged on the intrusion, causing more tears to fall.
“You’re going to shine my shoes with that little tongue of yours,” she said, withdrawing her gloved hand from Frank’s mouth. Gerard leaned back against the desk, presenting a stiletto heel to her prisoner.
Frank trembled as he leaned down, eyes flitting back and forth between the shoe and the powerful woman towering over him. His outstretched tongue glided across the patent leather, his head swimming in humiliation as Gerard tilted her foot up, forcing him to lick the sole.
“That’s a good little slut,” she cooed, and in that moment, Frank felt like he would do anything to be on the receiving end of her sarcastic praise.
He repeated the process for the other shoe, supporting it gently in his hands. Another small moan escaped as he imagined kissing up her calves and worshipping her thighs.
“Don’t get distracted,” Gerard warned, placing her foot back on the floor. “I think you’re enjoying this too much. It’s a punishment.”
Frank rushed to say he was sorry, shrinking under her piercing gaze. She commanded him to strip and bend over the desk.
Gerard stepped away as Frank hobbled to his feet, heart jumping out of his chest as his shaky hands worked to remove his clothing. He placed his elbows on the cool mahogany, listening as she dug through a nearby cabinet.
She smiled as her hand closed around the smooth surface of the cane.
“You poor thing,” Gerard said, feigning sympathy and stepping back over to him. A gloved hand moved slowly over Frank’s bare ass. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
Frank couldn’t even begin to consider what was in store for him before the cane came crashing down hard on his ass. He yelped, falling forward onto his chest.
“Oh, and if you fight back, or try to run… I make you disappear,” Gerard said. She gave his ass a soft tap with the cane, which made Frank jump. He had just a moment to catch his breath before she began wailing on him. He cried out with each strike.
“Now, thank me for being so merciful to you,” Gerard said. Frank gritted his teeth as he willed himself to breathe through the pain.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Frank said after the next hit, his chest shuddering with a sob. She wasn’t letting up and his mind was going blank.
Frank could barely feel his ass or the back of his thighs, the dull throb of developing bruises the only thing keeping him grounded. Well, that, and Gerard’s evil laugh as she continued to beat him.
“Have you had enough?” Gerard eventually asked, stepping back to admire her work.
“Yes ma’am,” her captive said, defeated, his voice weak and strained.
“Oh. Too bad,” Gerard said before delivering another stinging blow.
Tears glided down the tip of Frank’s nose and pooled on the surface of the desk as the beating continued. Several minutes passed before Frank squeaked out a soft and broken “please.”
“Please, what?” Gerard asked, grasping Frank by the hair and yanking him upward, forcing him to look her in the eye.
“Please stop hitting me,” he begged, allowing a pathetic whimper to escape as Gerard pushed her leather gloved thumb over his bottom lip.
“You know, I would quite like to use this pretty mouth again,” she said, and Frank couldn’t draw his gaze away from her sadistic smile.
A combination of endorphins, fear, and arousal muddled Frank’s mind, and the world outside the office melted away. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. His only thoughts were of serving her.
Frank simply nodded, sniffling as Gerard’s grip on his hair loosened.
“On your knees,” Gerard commanded, and Frank kneeled in front of her. “Good slut.”
She inched the pencil skirt up her thighs and Frank’s eyes locked onto what it revealed: the line of a hard cock jutting obscenely from a pair of white panties.
Frank’s breathing grew labored as his captor slipped her underwear off and it became abundantly clear what he was going to be made to do. He watched the cotton dangle from the toe of her shoe before falling to the ground.
“Now, come here,” Gerard purred, beckoning him to position himself between her legs. She held her cock in her hand and pointed it toward Frank’s mouth. He didn’t even notice his lips had parted.
Frank’s tongue grazed the tip of Gerard’s cock, prompting a noise of approval from her. A second lick sent his tongue gliding over what parts of the shaft he could reach.
“So eager,” she said, sighing as Frank’s lips closed around her. And he was, he couldn’t deny it. The beating broke him down so far that his body could no longer resist.
He moved his head slowly, savoring the warmth and weight of her in his mouth. Gerard’s hand moved from the base of her cock to Frank’s head, pushing his bangs back and locking eyes with him.
Frank moaned around her. His body was hot and charged with arousal, fed directly by the humiliation he felt from being naked, kneeling on brutal concrete and taking cock from a stranger who had his literal life in her hands. His own cock twitched, thoroughly ignored.
Gerard’s head tipped back and her eyes fell shut as Frank sunk completely down on her. She felt his throat spasm and he pulled off, a hand coming up to stroke her as he willed last night’s alcohol to remain in his stomach.
He started to mumble something about how amazing her cock was when she repositioned it between his lips again. Frank bobbed his head as he worked his hand over her shaft, delighting in the moans he was pulling from his captor’s throat.
Gerard’s fingers laced into his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut as he was forced downward, nose buried in the fabric of her skirt gathered around her hips. Gagging caused his eyes to well up with tears again and he locked his gaze back onto Gerard’s, blinking slowly as if to telepathically say, “Just look at how good I’m being for you.”
“You really are a slut,” Gerard said before allowing him to pull back. His tongue glided over her sensitive tip, lapping at a bead of precum. She sucked down a breath as he eased her down his throat again. A gloved thumb slid over the hollow of Frank’s cheekbone.
Frank’s moans and eager ministrations had Gerard muttering to herself in Keposhka, eyes clasped shut as he worked over her cock. It twitched in his mouth and Frank took her to the hilt again, a hand gripping his hair tightly as she cursed under her breath.
Her cock pulsed on his tongue and cum flooded his mouth. Gerard allowed him to bob his head again as she rode out her orgasm, her chest heaving beneath her white button-down.
Frank gently released her and gulped down her cum. His red, wet lips parted as he panted to catch his breath.
“That was lovely,” Gerard said as she went to retrieve her underwear, coat and hat.
“Thank you so much,” Frank said in a fucked-out, raspy tone, thoroughly cumdrunk. He lifted a hand to wipe the spit from the corners of his mouth. “Thank you for using my mouth.”
Gerard hummed as she smoothed out her skirt, her lips slipping into a wicked smile. Frank didn't notice - he was focused on pulling himself to his feet, gripping the desk to steady himself after spending such a long time on the concrete.
“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving so soon,” she stated as she started toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor. She looked back over her shoulder. “In light of your arrest, I took the liberty of canceling your flight.”