Carlos' POV
It's been five weeks, four days, sixteen hours, twenty-eight minutes since everything went FUBAR; since I got left behind in this hellhole since I've been stuck in this cage. While I can't say that things have been all that bad, they haven't been good either. About a day before our extraction, I started to get the feeling that someone was watching us, that we were being followed. I shared my thoughts with my team. Even though we enacted some fancy counter maneuvers, we couldn't find any evidence that we were being tailed. It wasn't until the helicopter was coming in that they made their presence known. At first, I thought we were targeted for the role we played in taking down a big-time drug lord, which was the reason why we were sent here in the first place. But it seems that I was the target. From what I have gathered, my captors were under strict orders to bring me in, preferably alive, but dead was also fine.
I got taken out with a dart gun. There was no way for me to counter the fast-acting drugs that moved through my system. I don't know how far I am from the rendezvous point because when I woke, it was in the middle of the night. I found myself naked in this cage, with no dog tags, no ID, no uniform. I only hope that they didn't send my dog tags back or leave them with a body. I would hate for my wife, for my Stephanie, to think I was dead. It's been five and a half months since I've seen her, and if Abuela was right with her prediction, Stephanie would be about six months pregnant with our baby. My baby. Dios. I hate that I'm not there with her, that I'm not watching her grow round with our child. I can't think about what I'm missing out on, I have to focus on getting out of here so I can meet my child, so I can know my child, so I can make sure that they at least have one picture taken with their father.
For the first week that I was here, food and water were dropped off once a day while I slept. It wasn't much, a piece or two of fruit, a piece of bread, and the equivalent of about a liter of water. While not sufficient to keep me going if I were active, it is more than enough for me to keep strong while locked in a five by five cell. Week two was the first time that I had some interaction with someone. A guard, male, mid-forties, came to deliver my food while I was awake for a change. I questioned him, trying to find out what I was wanted for, why I was being held. He simply told me that someone had requested that Ranger did not make it back to the States, that they were free to use me for whatever purposes they wanted to. Right now, his Mistress was trying to decide what she wanted to do with me.
I kept waiting for the torture to begin, for the information gathering to start. After all, it is what we trained for. However, that never happened. At the start of week three, someone came down to take pictures of me, from every angle, paying extra attention to my manhood. I started to get an idea of what my use might be once that happened. I've heard of the human sex-trafficking of women, but I know there is also a market for men, and I'm afraid that I might be on that market. While there is a chance that if I am sold, I might be able to run, I have no idea where I am or how I'd manage to get home without any official documentation. It's not like I can just call the Pentagon and say, "Hi, it's Carlos Manoso. Come pick me up at the corner of Jungle Hell and Jungle Fever. I'm the one in the nude." I just hope the rest of my team made it home, and that Lester is with Steph.
All I do know is that someone wants me, specifically, out of the picture. I keep wracking my brain, trying to figure out who it could be, but I keep drawing blanks. I haven't been in the military long enough to make enemies. Yes, some guys were jealous of me in Ranger school, hell, I beat all of them repeatedly, but none of them have rank or connections high enough to cause me to be held against my will in a foreign country, yet. At the start of week four, I was given one hour for a workout, in the gated yard, with only a pair of sneakers to wear. I guess I needed to keep my physique up. Yesterday, the "mistress" came to see me. I've never felt so worthless and objectified before. Now, I've always had girls and women flaunting themselves at me, trying to get me into their beds, but I've always had the power to reject them. I thought them amusing, but with the way the mistress leered at me, I felt dirty. I guess that is way Morelli made Steph feel all those years ago.
She's a beautiful woman, in her fifties, but with the natural body of a younger woman. She takes good care of herself and obviously has good genes. She has long, dark brown hair, streaked with gray. Instead of making her look older, it makes her look mysterious. Her eyes are the color of whiskey, and her skin the color of hot chocolate. She walked around me, pinched my ass, grabbed my cock and my balls, and ran her finger down my abs. She stroked me until I was hard standing at full attention when she took out a tape measure to determine the length and girth of my cock. As much as I hated what she did, I couldn't help but feel a little pride when she claimed that I was the largest one yet. Then, she walked away, leaving me needing release with two male guards standing watch. I know that was part of her game. Leaving me in a state where I had to either deal with my hard on myself, with two guards watching, who undoubtedly would comment along the way or just suffer. However, the mistress didn't know how often I had to talk myself down to keep myself from jumping my wife at inopportune moments. So, within five minutes of her leaving, I managed to deflate my manhood and remain unsatisfied.
Now I know some men may be uncomfortable parading around twenty-four/seven in their birthday suit, but it doesn't bother me one bit. I've always preferred sleeping in the nude, and never had problems remaining nude until I showered, as long as I didn't have to worry about my sisters, mother, grandmother, or aunt seeing me. Stephanie still doesn't understand how I'm fine with walking from our bedroom to the bathroom naked, and even down to the kitchen, especially at night. While I'm glad that she's more conservative, because I don't want anyone seeing her, I don't care. In Ranger school and when I was overseas, we had open bay barracks, and the bathrooms were all communal so we just got used to hanging all out. I don't even think we looked at each other, well, at least not after the first assessment. Come on, all men's egos are directly linked to the size of our cock, so there was always a little bit of an assessment of who had longer, thicker, or straighter than you. Fortunately, for me, I was always the top of that list, and fortunately for Stephanie.
While I have gotten accustomed to my captivity, I keep looking for an opportunity to escape, except there is none. I'm never removed from my cell, except for that one hour, and then, I have ten armed men surrounding me. Even if I managed to overpower one of my guards when they gave me food, I couldn't get out of the cage because they don't have a key. Only one guard has the key, and he comes for exercise duty.
Today, I'm feeling restless, like something is going to happen. I'm not sure if that means that I'm going to be sold today, or if it means that someone is coming for me. I hope and pray that it's the latter because I want to get home to my Babe, but if it isn't, I hope that I will have an opportunity to get out there. I decided to meditate, to think back on what I was taught in Ranger school. I know that if a prisoner extraction is planned, it's usually planned for nighttime when there are typically fewer guards and the cover of darkness. I know that the moon is waning towards a new moon, so it will be darker outside. I know I need to be ready, so I make sure my sneakers are accessible and ready to be put on in a moment's notice. While I don't mind starting my escape without clothes, I do need shoes to help get over the terrain. Once we are at a safe point, I now my rescue team will have fatigues for me. Though I haven't had any weights, I have been able to keep up with my core training, and I complete two hundred push-ups and two-hundred various crunches a day, with other abdominal training. I do as much as I can to keep myself a bulked up as possible. I need to make sure I am still lethal with my hands.
When the guard comes with my dinner, I try to keep my nerves at bay. I don't think he noticed anything, which is good. But then, he spoke.
"You're on the block. Bidding closes in twenty-four hours. I hope you don't mind being dragged around by your cock, by some bitch because that's what you'll be dealing with. I certainly hope that you have stamina in that cock, or your time will be short-lived."
I ignore his comments, resuming my silent prayer that tonight is the night that I will be rescued, that by this time tomorrow I'll be on US soil, and hopefully, have my Babe in my arms. I also vow to hunt down the son of a bitch who ordered me here. It would be my pleasure to make sure that he never had freedom again.
