“And you know how best to please your general, soldier?”
Mwenye could see the private looked worried. Powerfully built. A physique that could not fail to hurt.
Odd .. a muscled man-in-his-prime .. almost shivering under the glare of his general. Not one used to occupying the limelight. Fearful for getting singled-out .. thanks to his physique .. wilting under the close scrutiny of his senior officer.
The soldier just looked back at his general open-eyed.
“I want to hear him squeal. UNDERSTAND?”
Mwenye saw the soldier’s eyes flash open even wider. Worried at hearing the demands. Worried if he was up to this task.
— – – –
Worried about all eyes on him. A simple soldier not used to this. Centre-stage. Under his senior officer’s glare. His mates peering through the slats in the walls at him. Wondering if he could pull this off. Expected to make this American sniper squeal. The general wanted him to match his own efforts .. and then some more. To finish off the job. Thrash the hell out of that white arse and let his general hear the soldier squeal. To please his general. And not to fail.
“You from a village, soldier?”
The general’s question was firm. Mwenye saw the soldier nod. Unable to open his mouth for fear of betraying his nerves.
“You ever catch a pig? Ever kill a pig?”
The solider hesitated. Staring back at his superior officer. Mwenye could almost believe he’d see the man start to tremble. Then he nodded. Of course a man from the countryside had done that.
The general nodded at his man.
“THAT is what I want to hear.”
His head briefly nodded at his prisoner stretched out helpless on the table, his bare backside glowing painfully red.
“Make this white-arsed sucker squeal like a pig.”
Mwenye knew .. the way this private stood transfixed by his general’s focus on him .. trembling under this officer’s gaze .. he’d do more than his best.
“Do your duty, soldier.”
With anxiety Mwenye saw how the general had played the private well. The man .. for all that muscled strength clinging to his taut muscular frame .. he was terrified. Singled-out for a responsibility he had not sought. Picked on by his general .. a man the simple country-man otherwise might never have seen .. or wanted to see .. the poor guy just wanted to get paid. Paid to feed his kids. To get paid he had come to fight. Not to be singled out by a general.
It was inevitable. Mwenye knew Scott was going to get a beating from hell. The mother of all thrashings. This private was going to do everything in his power to please. And letting off Scott Daley .. that did not come into it.
“He doesn’t know a thing.”
Mwenye blurted out. He had to do something to intervene. That heavy-muscled private .. looking like some taut prize-winning bodybuilder .. he was going to beat shit out of Scott’s arse.
“Let him go. You’ll get nowhere with this.”
Even as the words came tumbling out, Mwenye heard the blunder in his own head.
The general turned back to Mwenye. He grinned.
“This white-BOY .. he doesn’t know a thing. No use to me. Can waste him. No loss.”
The general had taken up position behind Mwenye’s chair. Forcing an anxious Mwenye to follow him with his eyes. Making him twist his head over to keep contact with him. He placed one hand on Mwenye’s shoulder. Almost friendly-like. The other he twisted in Mwenye’s hair. And forced Mwenye’s vision back on Scott Daley stretched out. His bare ass glistening a painful-sore red. That prime bodybuilder of a soldier stood ready with the sjambok .. awaiting the nod to begin.
The general’s hand in Mwenye’s hair tightened. There’d be no looking away when Scott’s arse was taking the heat.
“.. ….. it is you I want to talk to …. Worth talking to …. ”
The grip in Mwenye’s hair tightened. Pulling his hair at the roots.
“It is you that has questions to answer ….”
“Any time you are ready, captain.”
The grip squeezed. Mwenye could not help the pained grimace on his face.
“It is you prolonging this for your white-BOY friend ….. You, captain, are torturing him ….”
— – – – — – – – — – – –