Dedication: My thanks to Khalid for his input at every level esp. the idea for Anthem Daze.
Lieutenant Brandon Curtis Mayfield was a soldier to his very core. Military service ran in the American branch of his Southern family as far back as the American Revolution. Even before then, his ancestors had served in the British Army. One in particular had served an officer in the first British victory at the Battle of Plassey. In fact, Brandon had been named for his famed ancestor. That Lieutenant Brandon Curtis Mayfield had led his troops in the battle. Later, he secretly took them on a side mission to sack the house and religious building of a nearby estate belonging to a Muslim family. Although it was never spoken about among his family, the Mayfield future wealth and position had been secured by the looting incident. Far from being ashamed of his ancestor’s conduct, Brandon took a special sort of pride in the initiative of his ancestor which combined with his sense of racial superiority. In a quirk of fate that he found that he had been assigned to the very area that his ancestor had successfully looted back in the 18th century.
In an effort to symbolically demonstrate the growing ties between India and America, joint exercises had been arranged between the two military establishments. Brandon had been sent to India to meet with a fellow Indian officer to arrange a joint military exercise between Indian and American soldiers.
Standing at over 6 feet., with blonde hair and blue eyes, the ruggedly good looking, well-built officer was scheduled to meet with his counterpart at a local eatery. Ever since he had been told his assignment, he had looked upon it with a mixture of disgust contempt. In his view, the Indian Army and, Indian officers in particular, were inferior to army standards. Yet, successful completion of this assignment for the twenty-nine-year-old Lieutenant was essential if he hoped to advance in his career. He did find it amusing that he had been assigned back to the very area that his ancestor had successfully once conquered and looted.
A few moments later a man dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant in the Indian army walked into the place. Standing at 5 foot 9 the trim figure stood with an air of authority about him. He saw the American. For a brief instant, he displayed a hint of a smile before assuming a more official demeanor He briskly walked up to the American lieutenant who extended his hand. The Indian officer firmly gripped it, and they shook.
“I am, Lieutenant Amir Maahat, he stated as sat down across from the American. “I believe we are to work together to make this exercise successful,” he while never taking his eyes off the American.
“Have we met before?” Brandon asked, “You look at me as if you know me.”
“No we have never met,” the Indian lieutenant replied. Though I suppose in a way we are acquainted since your ancestor looted my family’s estate and despoiled our mosque ,” he thought. Lt. Amir’s family had vowed revenge against the Mayfield family. The American’s ancestor had not only burned and pillaged his family’s home, he had also sodomized the young son of the head of the family. When Lt. Amir saw who was being sent to India he had used every connection possible to be assigned to be the liaison officer to Brandon. Now, sitting across from the smug acting American, he vowed he would get true justice. The first Lieutenant Brandon Curtis Mayfield had taken the young boy’s honor and his sense of manhood. That boy’s descendant intended to return that act tenfold to the second one!
If Amir had any doubts about the justice of his planed revenge, working with the American, put those doubts to rest. Brandon had continually displayed his subtle but clear contempt for soldiers in the Indian Army. “Look I’m not expecting too much from your guys so we should try to make these joint maneuvers as simple as possible,” he said at one point to a quietly seething Amir. The Muslim officer’s avoidance of alcohol was also a subject of Brandon’s amusement. “No need to make up bullshit excuses. If you’re not man enough to hold your liquor, just admit it,” he teased Amir. It was soon obvious that Brandon’s entire physiological makeup was tied into his sense of manhood. It was his very rigid self-image of masculinity that would be Brandon’s undoing.
It was after they had finished planning that week that Amir invited the American to his home on the outskirts of the urban area
“It is a bit far, but I am honored to have you. I’m sure you will find it to be an experience,” he assured Brandon as they drove along back streets to finally arrive at a small house.
“Nice place,” Brandon replied simply to be polite.
“It is a small cottage of sorts that used to be on the edge of a large estate,” Amir responded as he and the American went inside. “I fear that estate no longer exists,” Amir quietly stated as he handed a cup to the American. “Though my religion forbids me alcohol I do keep a local variety of it for special guests. It is w quite potent .”
“I’m sure I can handle it,” Brandon arrogantly answered. He gulped it down to emphasize his point.
A smiling Amir quickly refilled the cup and watched as once more, Brandon quickly downed it.
“This isn’t very powerful,” he managed to say before the effects hit him. “Shit,” he drawled. Raised in the deep South, Brandon’s good-old-boy accent got more pronounced when he drank. Thanks to the drug induced effects of the beverage, however, it was fully on display. He blinked as the room lost focus. “Shit man things are spinning,” he muttered as Amir led him to a chair.
Amir sat across from him. he smiled. The liquid, while not alcoholic, was composed of various local ingredients that not only disorientated the person but also rendered their mind open to be ‘reconditioned. He gazed at Brandon who sat before him stupidly grinning and while attempting to look at him. “You arrogant bigot,” Amir angrily stated. I’ve listened to your contempt of my people and its culture. Constantly boasting about your military prowess and acting as if I am less of one compared to you. Well, tonight we will begin to correct it,” he said as he filled a cup and brought it to Brandon’s mouth. “Drink it,” he sharply ordered.
“Ok,” Brandon hiccupped as he opened his mouth to let Amir pour it down his throat. “Fuck me…I’m wasted,” he laughed as some dribbled from his mouth.
“Well you are right on both counts,” Amir agreed as he reached over to unbutton Brandon’s now beverage-stained uniform shirt.
“I think your boasting to me secretly cover up your true sense of inferiority around Indian men,” Amir instructed. “In fact you know it’s true. Deep inside you know you are inferior to us!”
“Inferior to Indian men,” the fully mentally pliable American replied as his mind took in the command.
“Especially sexually,” Amir added.
“Sexually inferior,” Brandon mumbled as his drugged-up brain processed it in a new mental reality.
“You are unconsciously obsessed with the erotic power of such men,” Amir continued.
“Obsessed,” Brandon softly drawled.
“In fact, whenever you see an Indian man you will visually focus on his crotch,” Amir stated. “It will thrill you to gaze upon them.”
“Thrill me. can’t look away,” Brandon responded as his eyes drifted down to fixate on Amir’s crotch.
Suddenly an idea popped into Amir’s brain. He laughed as he recalled Brandon’s constant verbal supercharged Americanism. He reached out to lift Brandon’s face upward then leaned in, so his face filled the doped-up American’s vision. “Whenever you hear your nation’s anthem you will crave sucking an Indian man’s cock. The urge will overwhelm you until all you can do is find one to blow.”
“Crave it. Crave an Indian man’s cock when I hear it,” Brandon agreed.
Amir decided to test the drug’s effects. He let go of Brandon’s head and starting humming the American anthem.
Brandon, whose eyes refocused on Amir’s bulge, began to lick his lips.
The delighted Indian officer noticed that, while Brandon’s eyes kept focusing on Amir’s crotch, the American’ own bulge began to tentpole. Amir slowly unzipped and pulled out his thick brown-hued cock. By now Brandon was actually salivating as he took in the sight. “Go for it,” Amir huskily said.
Brandon quickly dropped to his knees. “Shit,” he managed to say. He gazed at Amir’s thick long pole. “I need it,” he rasped to the still humming Indian officer. Hesitantly his tongue slipped from between his lips. A part of his mind still resisted going down on a man especially some Indian man’s meat
“Go on,” Amir instructed. He again hummed the anthem.
Brandon let out a long moan. He gazed at the dick waving before him. Amir’s musky crotch scent filled his lungs. As the national anthem filled his brain his tongue tentatively began to orally caress Amir’s cockhead.
Good boy , Amir thought as he now loudly hummed the tune.
Brandon let out a cry of defeat and opened his mouth to gently slurp down the shaft. As he did, he reached down to unzip and free his own erection. With a series of pitiful moans he gradually took the Indian officer’s meat down his throat while masturbating his own throbbing dick.
Amir spread his legs taking pleasure in seeing the descendant of the man who had defiled his ancestor son his knees, sucking, slobbering and chocking as he serviced Amir’s dick. While Brandon slurped away and masturbated, Amir instructed his new cock-sucking American officer how to truly suck an Indian man’s cock.
“Love Indian dick,” Brandon cock-stuff mouth mumbled while getting his face nicely fucked.
As he was being sucked off, a part of Amir’s brain plotted his next steps. Tonight would be focus upon reenforcing the American’s craving to seek out and blow Indian men whenever that music was played. Yet, that was not enough for Amir. True, a part of his revenge involved sexually bitching the American. Yet, in tandem, Amir also intended to break Brandon’s image in a public way too.
The next morning Brandon found himself lying in his own bed. Vague images from the night before flited about inside his brain. “No I was drunk that’s all. I simply got drunk, and Amir drove me home,” he told himself as he rose to go shower and dress. Yet, when he reported into base, he found himself staring at every Indian soldier with more respect. He also couldn’t stop checking out each man’s crotch. By the time he arrived at the office he shared with Amir, he was on edge.
“You really tied one on,” Amir told Brandon as he entered their office.
“Yeah,” a sheepish Brandon replied. Fuck, I never realized that he is so hot, the American thought. He was shocked by that idea. Yet, almost as if he was drawn to it, Brandon’s eyes fixated on the bulge in Amir’s pants. I can’t do this, he silently yelled to himself. Suddenly an image of Amir’s thick, juicy, dark-hued meat sliding into then down his throat filled his brain. His mouth began to salivate.
The Indian officer took note of the American’s increasingly overheated demeanor and the object of his visual focus. “See something you like?” He teased. He casually let his right-hand rest on his upper thigh while his thumb ran sensually across his rounded package.
“Huh?” The now fully distracted Brandon mumbled.
“Crawl over and taste it,” Amir sharply said. He moved his chair to face the American and spread his legs.
A shocked Brandon told himself he couldn’t want to blow Amir. He would never crawl to any guy let along and Indian in the very location his ancestor won his victory. Even as mentally said all this, he crawled over and leaned his face into Amir’s jewels. “Fuck…I won’t,” he cried as he frantically pulled down Amir’s zipper. The Indian’s heady groin musk again filled his lungs. “I need it,” he moaned as he pressed his face into the man crotch. Frantic to taste the object of his desire, he pulled Amir’s shaft free. “Yes,” he rasped as he slurped up the man’s dick.
Amir gleefully watched as fully obedient Brandon, kneeling between Amir’s splayed thighs, orally serviced him. “That’s my good bitch,” he mocked. For the rest of the week, Brandon could be found on his knees savoring Amir’s dick.
Two weeks later, the joint maneuvers to commenced. As was traditional, it opened with a parade of troops in front of the reviewing stand. A smartly dressed Amir and Brandon stood side-by-side along with various dignitaries and generals as American troops marched in front of them. Brandon, who is still trying to wrap his head around what he'd been doing with his fellow liaison officer, watched as the Indian troops came into view. He grew increasingly nervous as each of the participating units passed close by the reviewing stand. He softly groaned as hundreds of smartly attired, well-built Indian men marched just a few feet from him in their tight-fitting uniform. Beads of sweat broke out along his forehead while his vision fixated on each one’s crotch area.
Amir looked over at him. He suppressed a smile. He knew that by now, Brandon was totally programed by a powerful need to service Indian men. Everyone stood at attention when the Indian anthem was played. Upon its conclusion, the American anthem began.
As the first strains of the tune filled his ears, Brandon began to shake. Images of Amir’s mouth-watering cock flooded into his brain. Try as he might, his growing lust for the liaison officer’s dick became overwhelming. He tried to focus on anything else but, as he gazed in front of him, he saw the army units of those Indian soldiers with their impressive bulges. “I can,” he mumbled in his losing struggle to contain his sexual cravings.
Amir observed Brandon’s conduct from the corner of his eye. As the anthem played on he grinned knowing it was only a matter of time before the American cracked.
“I need to suck his cock,” Brandon suddenly blurted out to everyone’s shock. As the last strains of the music played out, Brandon suddenly moved to kneel in front of Amir. “I want to suck your dick,” he moaned. He clawed at Amir’s zipper. “Let me suck it,” he howled as security MP’s rushed to grab him and haul him away.
Naturally Amir expressed his amazement at such conduct and humbly accepted the apology of the other Americans.
The entire affair was quietly hushed up. Brandon, of course, received a dishonorable discharge from the service. His fears of returning home and acting out if he heard the anthem once again combined with his ever-increasing hunger for servicing Indian men’s manhood.
In the end, he begged, Amir let him stay on as his house servant rather than return to America. The price was the return of the Mayfield wealth back to its original Indian family. Brandon, content to be a cocksucker for Amir and his friends, happily agreed. One of those friends was assigned to India’s secret service. He recruited Amir to help his country using his “special skills.”
Somewhere on a different plane of existence, the spirit of the first Lieutenant Brandon Curtis Mayfield shuddered as his namesake and descendant became the resident cocksucker to Amir and his fellow officers in the Indian army!
If you enjoyed this story then check the rest of Amir’s adventures in “The Erotic Adventures of India’s Secret Agent Amir” along with some of my other my eBooks on Amazon