PART V
Concealing it in my palm, I stepped up to speak directly to the hanging hunk. “You know what your problem is, my man?” I asked, rhetorical sardonicism at its finest “You don’t enjoy things enough; you don’t appreciate the humor in even the worst situations.”
“Whoever you are,” he said evenly. “I will get you for this. Count on it.”
“Come on, Sarge. Smile a little. Think about how funny you look, hanging there with your tits out all wet and stupid.”
He kicked at me. I dodged the boot still unremoved, and snapped my fingers at Ryan and Harker. The expression on my face was all the encouragement they needed. Each grabbed themselves one of Jenner’s flailing legs, holding it tight Motionless.
“What you need,” I resumed casually, as though nothing untoward had even taken place, “is a few laugh lessons; that’s what you need.”
“Kiss my ass, faggot.”
My shoulders shrugged, “enervated” by such mindless intransigence. Here I was giving him the key to psychological well-being and all he could say was a hostile “kiss my ass.” If that wasn’t cutting off a nose to spite a face, shit I didn’t know what was. Nevertheless, good friend to the Marine hero that I was I was not just going to give up on him, no, sir. Not without making a real good effort to turn him around.
“Wait a minute,” what did I mean, make a real good effort? Doing what what kind of “effort” was I going to make on him? “Don’t unlace my boot man—!”
It was a little late to stop me: I had those rawhide strips unknotted and already drawn out of almost every last socketed eye punched into the leather, twelve rows of two. The tongue gaped and the whole thing was loose enough to fall off his foot of its own accord, whether I helped or not.
And if the shoe’s off can the sock be far behind?
“I’ll kill you, you go for it!” A reiteration of the earlier threat I refused to take it with more than a miniscule grain of salt That stinking foot of his needed the airing, let me tell you. The stench was ribald enough to choke me; didn’t he ever wash?
“Some example you set for your recruits.” Is a man only a man when he smells to high Heaven?
“You God-damned mother-fucking asshole…!” Raging, raging, loud, louder, loudest The curses sprayed wetly from his twisted mouth. He was going to give himself one hell of a case of laryngitis that way.
“So this is for your own good,” I wanted to know as I forceably stuffed that blasphemous mouth of his full of toe-juiced footcloth, making sure to fill the muffled cavity tongue to roof, cheek to cheek. To make sure he couldn’t work it out I divested him of the other Marine Corps boot used the second smelly sock as a tie, looping it around his head just under the ears and knotting it tightly enough to keep the impromptu gag in place, more or less for as long as would be necessary. “Chew on that. Marine; see how you dig the taste of your own filthy feet.”
“Mmmpfffsskkkk.” he told me, the eyes wide and glaring until he felt Harker and Ryan increase the pressure on the leg they were steadying between them for me. keeping it up on a horizontal while I retrieved that long tapering object I’d selected from the table and withheld till now.
A feather.
Yeah. A frill -edged tail feather speckled with color and, to a sensitive individual like Sergeant Dick, the equivalent of lethal—particularly when just the very tip of it was brought slowly slowly slowly against the tender, unmolested flesh within the arch between the heel and the sole.
One fast brush-stroke to commence, that’s all. A flicker you’d hardly write home about. But it brought a screaming staccato burst of explosive noise erupting volcanically from the depths of that massively glistening chest, so forceful I was sure it would pop the sockgag right out of the spasming mouth, second sock tying it in place or not.
“Whee, look at the man shake,” Harker exulted. Jenner’s gag stayed fixed in place as he danced in mid-air, the feather all over the bottom of his foot now, wave after wave of horrible sensation crashing hard through his devastated brain.
“Eeeeiiimmmaaahhhh—aaahhhhmmmffff—ssssss—!”
What he was really saying, over and over again, was “no, please, stop, you’re killing me, stop. no. oh, my God, please” and stuff like that. Needless to say it had the opposite effect on me, not to mention Ryan and Harker. There was something powerfully erotic, pinning the dangling young soldier between us like this, almost naked and helpless to prevent us from driving him up the wall, making laughter alone take off the top of his head. Shit, the way that huge torso of his expanded and contracted, the belly heaving beneath it like a bellows, the large amber-brown rosettes bobbing at the curves on either pectoral palisade revenge couldn’t be sweeter.
He suddenly went limp. Out cold. Sagging in our grasp like a fucking sack. For a moment I got worried by then Ryan tapped my shoulder with one hand and the captive s extended cock with the other. “The only reason he’s out,” our young host was convinced, “is to protect himself from the fucking truth: this man doesn’t like what his pecker likes.”
We’d fix that for him in the next number of hours. We’d straighten him up for good.
PART VI
Another bucket of water brought him around fast, a baleful expression accompanying the consciousness returned. A “nnmmmhhh,” meaning “no more, I can’t take any more, please? Please?”
The big jock couldn’t “take” any more, would you believe that? After all he dished out back in the barracks and out on bivouac? Man. if we could endure what he put us through he was damn well going to enjoy it now that it was our turn at bat—although. I have to admit, one can only get so much of a sensual charge with footwork.
One moves on before one bores one’s self, in this instance to the sweat-smelling stud’s ticklish armpits. Feathers and armpits are made for each other, everybody knows that, even when they have to go probing through a forest of thickly curled hair.
Boy. If we thought he had bucked in his hanging bondage before you should have seen him now, having his pits teased so much, so badly. Little hiccupping shrieks and screams blasted through that mouthful of scummy sock, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunching, the veins pumping blue. “Sssssssmmmmmpphhh! Aaawwwfffkkk—! Mmmmmwwwwuuufffff!”
Yeah. I dug it so much my fucking cock shot a load right then and there, right down the inside of my Levis, the sticky stain spreading from my crotch to below my knee as I watched Harker reach around our beefy victim to tweak those rosy nipples between his thumb and forefinger, reddening them. Making the nubs stand out.
“Stop,” is that what he wanted, Sergeant Dick? Is that what he was begging us to do? Stop?
“Sure,” Ryan was willing to oblige, “just give me a big fat juicy kiss and maybe I’ll ask my friend if he thinks you’ve been tortured enough, what do you say?”
“Nnnn” was the answer, broadening Ryan’s fiendish leer. Whatever, he didn’t give a shit Watching the big muscular Marine get his armpits and ribs mistreated was some of the best fun he’d had in ages.
“We can go on destroying you all night and all day tomorrow, oh. yeah.”
“Eeeeeeeeniggggkkk—!”
I’d been experimenting with other erogenous areas of the helpless body, finding a terrific one just above the crotch, where the thigh met the abdomen. It was utterly mesmerizing to see. Jenner’s body reacting to the feather as though it were a cattle prod.
That “eeeeeeeiiigggkkk,” now. Was that an okay to Ryan’s offer? Was the big hetero willing to give us a big fat slobbering kiss and end this agony, hmm? Yes? No?
Yes.
And Ryan was instantly on him, yanking out the gag, holding the handsome crew-cut head between his own powerful forearms, keeping it still while his lips descended. The look in his eyes was as determined as that of some predator bird. The corners of his attacking lips curled in contempt as they reached their goal, clamping down hard over Sergeant Dick’s, the tongue flickering out to pry through to its ultimate goal,
“Mmmmmmnn.” the D.I. protested, his belly undulating a little as Harker and I held his limbs for this next stage of the rape.
“Call that a kiss?” Ryan was insulted. If Jenner didn’t fucking clean up his act he was going to turn him over to my feather again; is that what the dumb shit really wanted? Is it?
The lips clashed again, juicy wet with foaming spit, the teeth unclamping. Ryan’s tongue stabbed into the hot pink cavity, clashing with the prisoner’s own, roaming over the molars and the gums, delving into the inside cheeks. As he did (for the longest time) I nudged my fellow recruit, directing his attention to the bulge in those Marine Corps fatigues: Ry was right The guy couldn’t conceal that hardon, not any more. It was real. Massive. Risen. Ripe.
I freed it the pants dropping down to the ankles as the tumescent member sprang up like a construction crane, red and shimmering with sweat and precum, the urethra gaping in the plum-shaped glans, leaking copiously, the fluid lubricant making the blue of the inter-weaving veins stand out all over the swollen shaft Glancing up, I saw Ryan replacing the gag in Jenner’s mouth.
I used the feather on his dick, on the underside, gently flicking it down the tightening scrotum, over the little cord to the hair-halo’d anus and back. A barely audible “aaawww” hissed out of the sock-gagged mouth. Ryan reared back enough to whisper into the ears of the head he still held within the palms of his hands. “We’re going to fuck you now, Sarge,” he said. “Each one of us is going to slide our big-hard studmeat all the way up your cherry asshole and you are going to beg us for more.”
There was surprisingly little protest any more, the muscular Marine almost docile as we unhooked the chain from the eye in the ceiling and stretched him out flat across the waiting rack, fastening him down to it just in case the pain of original entry galvanized him to a new outburst of resistance.
With the legs doubled up over his chest, the knees practically kissing his shoulders, the ankles resting on mine as I mounted him, I took his virginity with a lot more tenderness than he actually deserved, somewhat amazed to discover that I didn’t want to hurt him as much as I wanted him to enjoy it to dig it to ask for more of his own free fucking will.
“Keep those ass-muscles loose,” was my basic advice as I loomed over him, still hooded and hard as a rock. “Unless you’re one of those pain freaks who wants to feel what it’s like being split apart.” The enlarged bulb at the head of my rod was spreading the little flower even as I spoke, worming its inexorable way through the natural opposition of the body until it finally snapped through the sphincter, reaming inward.
“Mmmwwwuuuhhh,” he gritted, the head thrashing from side to side on the mammoth neck, the cords beneath the flesh all standing out as though he were a line drawing by Etienne.
“Good boy,” I encouraged him, reveling in the feel of hot ass enclosing the length of my dick, wanting to feed it more, more, more. Wanting every last millimeter inside the hole, all the way up to the short hairs. Wanting to slowly pick up the pace, to make the sensations irresistable for the both of us, until finally the minds would blow out together and the balls would release a hydrogen bomb’s worth of hot cum, the kind that pours out of the pee-hole in endless streams, draining everybody utterly dry.
Wanting all that.
Achieving all that, making him—as Ryan promised—crying for more.
Giving him more, all three of us. Over and over again, while he howled and yelled and whimpered “so good, so fucking good. oh, shit, it’s so fucking good…!”
PART VII
“And there’s a lot more where that came from, faggot,” I said during a break. “Now that you know you like it walking around bow-legged, we can see that you’re accommodated pretty much on a daily basis, oh, yes.”
Confusion. What was I talking about? Why were Ryan and the other hooded stud giving him those looks?
We unmasked.
Hi. Sarge. Having fun?
“You—??”
Us. Two fucking recruits who’d just turned their muscular young D.I. into a cum-drinking, fish-smelling, sweat-encrusted bitch willing to spread his legs to have his asshole cunt filled with hard plunging dork at the drop of a wink. “If you want more proof, hey.” Hark added. “Wait til we get back to camp.” The rest of the guys in the platoon might very well like a good crack at the ass of the guy who’s been running them ragged all these weeks, wouldn’t they. “Not to mention the mouth.”
The funniest little smile illuminated the D.I.’s Marine face. “Yeah.” he was willing to admit. “They probably would.”
Probably? Shit, the word isn’t “probably,” the word is “definitely.” It would be demonstrated the minute Jenner sauntered into the barracks back down at Pendleton braced by Hinsie and myself. “At-fen-shun!”
A mad scramble would follow, everybody leaping up to stand at the foot of their bunks, shoulders squared, bellies in. Looks of trepidation on every face: what new and diabolical punishment(s) did the sadistic D.I, have in mind for them now?
“I’ve been on your assess eight weeks now.” he’d begin, stentorian. Official. Unforgiving. “I’ve ridden you hard. I’ve put you away wet Okay. Now it’s your turn to do the same to me, just like your fellow Pfc’s here did all fucking weekend. I expect to be punched out and down, I expect you fuckers to spread me out on the floor and strip my ass naked. I expect you to jab those big hard Marine dicks up my ass and down my throat all fucking night, is that clear?”
Shocked silence. What kind of a joke was this? Or was it some kind of trap? An invitation to the Section Eight?
“I’m talking to you, assholes, and when I talk to you answer; you say—?”
“Sir!” they’d shout in practiced unison. “Sir. yes, sir!”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
A collective howl would break free of fifteen throats, a mass of rushing males lunging forward to beat their sergeant up, to rip his uniform off with their bare hands, to pin him helpless to the floor and to dick him front and back nigger-style until the bugler blew reveille.
We could do it. That fuckin’ D.I, would probably do it Would we get away with it? Well, we’d think about it—had all fuckin’ weekend to think about it But one thing was for sure. Harker and I had the name of the firm we were going to found back in New York with Ryan partnering it with us. Studbusters, Inc.
Catchy, don’t you think?
