The Telemachus Story Archive

The Mission
Part 2 - Calling in the Cavalry
By Randy Dragon

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The Mission

Calling in the Cavalry

At the “Pink Cock”, Dwight had finally recovered his senses. He and Lee were fully dressed and cleaned up. The Sergeant still tasted the Korean’s cum and Lee smelled Dwight’s musky male scent all over him.

“I’ve got to go,” Dwight gave the Asian a warm hug.

“Anything, I can be of help,” Lee asked with a grin.

“Now don’t you get formal again!” Dwight scolded playfully, ”Besides, I’ll take you up on this offer at a later time.”

“See you tomorrow then,” Lee grinned.

“Yeah, see ya” Dwight replied, “you going home? You need a car? I can call transport from the base, you know.”

“No, there is still some unfinished business around here, “Lee grinned dastardly. He fetched his beer and turned around joining a group of football players from the local college. Dwight couldn’t believe his eyes when he watched the Asian hitting on a muscular young hunk dressed in jeans and skin tight white tank top, whom he knew as the Linebacker of the team.

“Voracious bitch! “ Dwight shook his head and left the bar. His GPS told him that the SUV was not far away and he sprinted to look for his buddies.

He found the SUV in the alley, but there was no trace of Chuck and Mike. He was just about to call them over the mobile, when he heard a sound from an old dark warehouse nearby. He watched the chubby businessman leave the yard. The guy was apparently in high spirits. He kicked some empty cans away and threw his fist up in a victory pose. Then he entered a compact car that was parked in the main street and drove off, forcing the riled up engine into high gear.

Dwight decided to check the warehouse out on his own. He didn’t dare to call now, fearing the ringing might alert Brock Rowley. Dwight checked that some stuff he had brought was missing. He fetched the hand cuffs, sled them in the back pocket of his ass-hugging pair of jeans and took the remaining club.

He tried to gain access to the warehouse through the main gate, but found it locked. Obviously Brock didn’t want any visitors. The Sergeant screened his surroundings. There was a small window, leading to the cellar. The window glass was already broken. Dwight took off the biker jacket and covered the broken edges. His brawny body almost got stuck but then he made it inside, huffing and covered in dust. It took him seemingly an endless time to find his way through the rubble in the pitch dark cellar. Silently cursing himself for not bringing a torch-light he arrived at a spiral staircase. From above he heard grunts, moans and the unmistakable sound of heavy fucking.

When he entered the yard he was shocked. Mike was writhing and moaning in obvious pleasure under Brock’s heavy humping body. The huge ex-Marine was nailing the Private missionary style on a mattress.

“Oh yeah man, fuck me!” Mike yelled. His arms clenched around Brock’s short neck. The hunk’s head rested on Mike’s shoulder, while he pinned the sinewy body under him. Mike’s belly was covered with cum. He had shot his load already, while Brock’s hips drove the huge cock relentlessly in and out his chute.

“Fuck! Aaargh ….uurgh!” Brock was by now covered in sweat as well. He wrestled from Mike’s embrace and lifted the Marine’s legs upon his shoulders. Using the full weight of his body, Brock leaned into the hollering man bucking like mad. When he felt a new climax approaching he rammed his dick as far inside the squirming Marine as possible. Brock closed his legs. His plum-sized balls were now pressing against Mike’s buttocks.

Slowly he pressed his tingling balls between his crotch and Mike’s ass cheeks squeezing his cum up into his shaft.

“Wwoooaaaaaa!” The giant body was shaking from spasms. Emanating an animal-like roar Brock permitted himself to be consumed by his lust for the first time that night.

Dwight decided to strike and to take the hunk out, while he was still caught in the thrills of his climax. Angrily he realized that he had left the baseball club behind, when he had crawled through the narrow window.

“Shit!” he cursed and realized at the same moment his second mistake. He had cursed aloud.

Brock’s head turned towards the Sergeant. His face still reddened he engaged from Mike and pulled his jeans up. Mike was left on his back facing the sky with unfocussed glazed eyes.

“And who would you be, jarhead?” Brock mocked.

“I am Dwight. Sergeant Dwight Collins. Can I have a word with you Mr. Rowley?” Dwight asked formally. Brock stared at him.

“Seriously?” he asked annoyed.

“What do you mean?” Dwight asked impulsively.

Brock pointed his head towards the garbage container.

“We had that already. I guess this is one of yours …” he chuckled.

Dwight looked closer and then he saw a naked leg hanging over the rim of the container frame. In shock he recognized the barbwire tattoo circling below the knee.

“Oh my God! You bastard, you killed …” he gasped.

“Naw! Muscle boy is just dreaming,” Brock replied almost casually, “probably he’s dreaming about me fucking his brains out. He likes me, ya’ know?”

“I might like you too,” Dwight decided to risk it all. With fast steps he closed the distance between him and the grinning hunk. Brock did not flinch.

“And now what…?” he drawled.

Dwight went down on his knees and unbuttoned Brock’s jeans. The Marine started kissing and licking around the huge dick, on the inner thighs, then on to the plum-sized nuts. Dwight’s tongue continued to tease and traveled slowly up the hefty shaft towards the mushroom head. Brock chuckled when he was tickled around the glans.

Dwight dove down on the throbbing dick and slipped it through his lips. The huge man sucked his breath in when his dick was almost entirely swallowed.

“A Sergeant and a cocksucker,” he muttered amused. Soon however his amusement turned into confusion. The Marine was sucking him with all his might. Brock’s hips started slowly to buck.

“Oh man, yeah go on … shit” he grunted.

Without releasing the dick, Dwight pushed the heavy body backwards. To his astonishment, Brock did not resist. On the contrary: He seized Dwight’s head and pulled it into his groin. At the same time he hobbled awkwardly backward until he sank down on the mattress alongside the gasping private.

Mike, who regained slowly his senses, watched as the Sergeant was slowly taking control. Brock’s back was now slightly arched. He spread his thighs to allow Dwight full access. The hips were bucking fast by now. Saliva and pre-cum covered the meaty man tool and Dwight used the palm of his hand to distribute it across the hairy balls. Gently he started to squeeze and knead the impressive set of nuts. The balls twitched inside the tightening sack and finally the two plum-sized testicles attached themselves to the base of the throbbing shaft.

“Oh yeah, don’t stop that feellzzz good,” Brock was in a trance. His big hands grabbed the fabric of the mattress. His mouth opened wide. He was inhaling deeply. Mike bent to his side and thrust his tongue deep into the gaping mouth.

“Uhhmmpffff … mhh,” Brock struggled under the French kiss. His hips went far up and suddenly Dwight’s mouth was filled with an unbelievable amount of hot white cum.

“Uuuurghhhh!” Dwight closed his hand around the contracting balls with a firm grip, making Brock howl into Mike’s mouth. The hunky man was in total ecstasy. His body caught in a convulsion.

“Gottcha!” Dwight cheered. His hand released the nuts from the painful grip and traveled under the sweating body. He parted the butt cheeks and thrust three fingers of his hand straight into Brock’s unsuspecting man hole.

“Aaaargh! Noooo!” Brock’s torso shot up, pushing Mike away from him. Huge arms were grabbing, trying to seize Dwight’s throat. The Sergeant rammed his hand further and Brock froze. A moment later he fell back. His body hit the mattress hard, while his hips bucked up in a helpless frenzy.

“No, take it out, fucker, I kill ‘ya, uhhhh!” he howled.

“Gimme your best shot!” Dwight challenged. His other hand was pumping the still hard monster cock.

“Fuck! Nnnoo …” Brock squirmed and tried to escape, but Dwight had skewered him well.

Dwight was sitting on his heels, controlling the muscle bear using the throbbing dick like a joy stick. His thumb was pressing deftly between the nut sack and the stretched pucker, which he had invaded with all four fingers by now. Guessing from Brock’s yells turning into high-pitched woman-like screeches, he had found the hunk’s love button.

“Now you go! Let’s milk the bull!” Dwight was on a roll. He had conquered the big Brock Rowley with ease.

Brock looked at Dwight with wide open eyes and the Marine couldn’t keep himself from directing the mangled rock-hard dick towards the hunk’s face. He intensified his strokes, wanting to make the giant man cum right into his own face. He grinned to Mike who was giving him a most terrified look. Why are you looking at me like that? He was wondering, and then it happened.

Dwight’s ankles were seized and before he could react his legs were pulled up high. He fell with his head right between Brock’s thighs and lost the grip around the shaft. His hand slipped from Brock’s asshole and he heard a growling guttural voice:

“Didn’t I warn ‘ya to watch your ass, bro?”

Dwight turned his head. A man with naked dark tanned torso dressed in jeans was glowering down on him, still holding his ankles. He stood about 5.8 feet and Dwight knew that he was 31 years old. His bristly, thick hair was pitch-black and short cut. A two days shadow shrouded his masculine jaw. In contrast to Brock the sculpted pectorals were clean shaven. He wore leather wrist bands. The broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. The hips were forced into a pair of ass-hugging, faded skin tight denims. He was not wearing any shoes.

“Wade!” was all Dwight was able to say when he recognized Brock’s brother. The intelligence had been dead wrong. Wade had been around all the time. Chuck and Mike never had a chance and Dwight knew that he was a basket case as well.

Wade Rowley released Dwight’s ankles and went down on his knees straddling the Marine’s thighs. With one hand he pushed heavy into Dwight’s back, holding him down, while the other hand reached around the waist for the button of his jeans.

“No wait, I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ …” Dwight struggled.

Dwight wanted to get up when Brock’s thighs closed around his head. His cheek was pressed against Brock’s crotch and while he was helpless struggling he felt that his jeans were stripped down to his ankles. From the corner of his eye he saw that Brock had trapped Mike in a stranglehold. The Private was floundering like a fish on dry land.

Dwight’s buttocks were spread and saliva was spit into the opening chute.

“Nnnawwwww …rghhhh,” The Marine’s protest was stifled as his mouth was covered by Brock’s hairy thigh.

“I thought you’d like that,” he heard Wade’s sneering voice. A callous finger probed against his sphincter. Although knowing that it was to no avail Dwight tried to tighten his butt. His hips were wriggling in despair, while he had more and more trouble to breath.

The finger disappeared and then he felt Wade’s weight on his body. The penetration made him howl. Wade’s fists cramped painfully into his shoulders, immobilizing him even further. Suddenly he was able to breathe freely. Brock had opened the murderous grip of his thighs. Dwight’s head moved up, struggling for air. He saw Mike’s motionless body and then all he saw was Brock’s huge dick which was force-fed down his retching throat. His T-shirt was shredded from his torso and his own dick was hardening without even being touched.

“What a nice Marine spit roast bro, “ Wade was hollering while he was humping the Sergeant into the ground. Dwight was anything but a newbie when it came to raunchy sex and orgies, but what the Rowleys did to him during the next hours was beyond anything he had experienced so far. He was caught in delirious lust and totally lost control. Whenever he was not serving Wade’s or Brock’s dicks or eating their asses, his moans and howls echoed from the walls of the yard. His dick was throbbing between his thighs spewing cum again and again. Dwight had been reduced to a fuck toy and he enjoyed every minute of it. When the sweet ordeal stopped he was pleading, begging for more, although his nuts were aching and he heard the Rowleys laugh.

The time came, when he was so depleted of cum and energy that Dwight was barely conscious. He was lifted on a shoulder and couldn’t tell whether it was Brock or Wade who was carrying him. Then he was sailing in midair. He landed hard, face-down on a pile of garbage. Chuck’s unconscious face was his last blurry impression before everything went dark.

While the Rowley brothers had their way with the three Marines, the party at the Pink Cock was in full swing. Lee was hitting on Trent Crusher, the hunky Linebacker.

The black stud was 20 years old. His head was bald shaven. He stood at 6.2 ft. and was a massive 240 lbs. boy hunk. The hard nipples below the centers of his sculpted hanging pecs were clearly visible under the skintight white tank top, which contrasted well to his dark chocolate-brown skin. Around the waistband of his ass-hugging Wranglers, he was wearing a three-row studded belt that was complementing the studded leather bands around his wrists.

“Hey Lee, is it true that Chinese have small yellow dicks?” the sophomore and his friends burst out laughing. Jerry the stocky halfback buried his face into Trent’s naked shoulder, tears of laughter in his eyes were blurring his vision.

“I am from Korea, “ Lee replied with a thin smile, ”I think I am fine down there.” He was wondering whether black Americans were as well-endowed as people often told.

“He is fine down there,” Trent roared with laughter again.

“Let’s have another beer.” he grinned down at the smaller Asian and took a sip from his glass.

“You might wish to stay in shape,” Lee said in a low voice that only Trent could hear. The Korean was standing very close to the college hunk and his hand was resting on Trent’s brawny thigh, slightly squeezing it.

“Oh yeah?” Trent asked sobering up a little bit, not sure what this was leading to.

He knew it when Lee’s hands were traveling up across his abs and were softly squeezing his nipples through the cotton fabric. This Asian wanted him. He could use some distraction as his chick was on a Ladies Night Party and had dumped him. Trent looked into Lee’s dark eyes, almost sober by now. He downed his beer.

“Well then, let’s go baby,” he said. The young hunk felt already horny and was concerned that Lee might change his mind at the last minute.

“Guys, I take our friend here for a ride,” he said to his friends,” just show him our beautiful town.” He fetched his red-black colored Shoei RF-1000 crash-helmet and hugged Lee around the shoulder. His hooting team-mates were grinning broadly after them.

“Man, this poor chink won’t be able to sit for a week,” Jerry sneered.

“Do you like my ride?” Trent asked. The Kawasaki Vulcan 2000 was Trent’s pride.

“Nice motorbike,” Lee replied.

“Nice?! Just nice!” Trent replied with undisguised indignation.

“Come on, let me show you what fuckin’ hot kind of a machine that nice bike is,” Trent swung his muscular leg over the saddle and pointed behind him. Lee had hardly mounted the bike and put his feet on the pillion driver’s foot rests, when the roaring engine was catapulting the heavy machine into the street.

As they were riding on the 2053 cc cruiser bike, Lee had his arms wrapped around Trent’s narrow waist. His hands were rubbing the chiseled six-pack under the shirt and rested finally warm and heavy on the impressive bulge that had developed in the Linebacker’s groin. His fingers were outlining the massive erection under the thin fabric. Could it be that easy? Lee wondered. He considered the hunky young football player a top and did not understand why the black hunk gave in to his stimulations so willingly. Lee was confident that he would top the stud with ease.

Trent navigated through empty streets. He indulged in the massage the smaller Asian was giving him. He would fuck this little slant-eye raw tonight. His cock was painfully twitching in his tight pants. Trent decided to pay a visit to the Ladies Night.

“What is this?” Lee asked curiously when they stopped in front of a Victorian style redbrick townhouse. There was a lot of girlish laughter and giggling to be heard and the sound of pop music. Some girls dressed in mini skirt and bikini top were having a smoke were sitting on the stairs leading up to the entrance.

“Wait and see,” Trent said.

“Hey Trent, how’s it hangin’?” one of the girls recognized the red-black bike and helmet.

“Nice ‘n low babe,” Trent grinned, ”is Sue around?”

“Yeah somewhere inside, but you may not come in, ‘ya know big stud?” the girl giggled.

“I know, I know, be nice hon’ and ask her to come out, I have to show her something,” Trent asked.

“Why don’t you show me?” the girl pouted, but went inside.

It didn’t take long and Sue came walking down the stairs. The redhead was wearing a string tank top and pink skintight leggings. Trent pulled the Shoei helmet off.

“Hi honey! Do you miss me already!” she cooed.

“Yeah, babe, I miss you,” Trent pulled her into a kiss. While his tongue was exploring her mouth his hand went down to his crotch. He unzipped his jeans and released his 12 inch rock-hard fuck meat. Sue felt her hand guided down on her boyfriend’s thigh and suddenly it was resting on his throbbing baby maker.

“Eeeeeewwwww!” she shrieked. Trent’s laughter almost caused him to fall from the saddle.

“You pervert asshole!” Sue was retreating up the stairs.

“Just wanted to show ‘ya how much I miss ‘ya hon’,” Trent, still laughing put the crash helmet back on his head. He tried to push his dick back inside his pants, however, he was too hard and the jeans were too tight.

“Shit! My fuckin’ stick won’t fit in…”, he cursed. Now, some girls came from the house, throwing plastic bottles and kitchen garbage at him.

“Fuck, I guess we better leave,” Trent started his bike and off they went leaving the shouting chicks behind.

Lee was startled. The athlete was a bi-boy after all. Although it was late at night and not a soul on the street, he couldn’t believe that Trent was driving with a massive erection throbbing openly from his zipper. Lee’s hands were gliding slowly up and down the black shaft making sure his owner remained hard and horny.

Later at Trent’s fraternity, the Linebacker tossed his helmet on a chair and stripped his jeans off. He peeled the tank top from his torso until he was only dressed in a canary-yellow string thong that could hardly contain his still hard monster dick.

Trent fetched himself another can of beer from the fridge and lolled back on his bed.

“What are you waiting for?” the football player looked expectantly at his Asian guest. Lee looked around in the room. Clothes and worn-out sneakers were scattered across the floor. A snowboard and a skateboard were leaning against the wall. There was one wooden pin board with a wide selection of bras.

“My trophies, pal,” Trent grinned.

”First I fuck them then I claim the bra as souvenir. There are 43 already, not bad for a sophomore, huh?” he chuckled and took a sip form his can.

“Not bad,” Lee repeated but he was staring at a huge black rubber penis that was placed on the bedside table.

“Yeah, that’s my piece. I had it remodeled by a chick I knew from arts class,” Trent chuckled, ”now get ready for the original stuff.” While Lee stripped from his clothes, Trent reached for the drawer. He produced a bottle of poppers and inhaled deeply.

“Oh fuck.” he moaned when the rush hit him. Lee watched the hunky football player slumping down on his back. He climbed onto the bed and lifted Trent’s legs. The lanky Asian wriggled close to the firm buttocks and started to lick the juicy nuts. His hand spread the sexy orbs and exposed the rosy puckered hole.

“Ohhh! Uuuh!” the jock moaned and groaned while Lee’s tongue rimmed his shit chute. Swiftly the smaller Asian had taken the lead and guided the boy hunk on a path of raunchy passion.

“Aaaouuuuu!” the Linebacker howled, when he lost his virgin ass to an Asian cock. The sensation was so intense that he shot a huge load of college hunk spunk, soaking the bed linen.

“Aargh! Fuck! Yesss!” Trent arched his back and writhed in sexual hysteria. He was sweating heavily. Apart from the studded wrist bands, Lee had stripped him buck naked and fucked him senseless on his own bed.

“Harder, man, fuck me harder!” the black stud panted. Lee was riding him doggie-style. He reached for the poppers and held the tiny bottle under Trent’s nose.

“Uuurgh! Shiiiitttt!” The athletic body was churning in red hot smoldering lust and Trent couldn’t get enough.

“F-fuck me, oh man fuck my tight ass!” The football player was completely out of control, caught in the grip of sexual ecstasy as never before in his life. The Asian seemed to be all over him, rimming his ass, licking his balls, his arm pits, sucking on his toes, spanking his hard bubble butt, milking his cock again and again. Trent’s eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Lee chewed the dark-red mushroom head until the bloated boner seemed to jump from the skin that tightened around the black shaft, making Trent scream for mercy.

With a devilish smile Lee gave Trent another dose of poppers. He took the black rubber dick and greased it with the Linebacker’s own man seed. Slowly he pushed it between Trent’s butt cheeks. The dizzy football player raised his ass in reflex and pushed against the big rubber schlong. The well-plowed sphincter opened up and after a few muffled grunts the stud went ballistic when his own manhood was driven deep inside of him. Lee slapped the sexy ass cheeks and the sphincter closed tightly around the rubber shaft.

The Korean fucked the younger American with his own dick in all imaginable positions and he made sure that Trent came every time before he changed position.

In the wee hours of the morning Trent was finally drained. His sore, mangled cock was still impressive, however, it remained flaccid and wobbly. The once dangling nuts had retreated completely into the shrunken nut sack.

The exhausted college hunk was face-down spread eagled in his churned up bed. The room was reeking from sweat and cum. Lee was fully dressed.

“Sleep well, baby,” Lee grinned at the depleted beauty, who was lying snoring with a replica of his own man pole rammed up in his sore ass. He turned to leave. It was already 6:00 AM and he was to meet Dwight an hour later. Then he hesitated and turned back, looking around. After a few moments he had found what he was looking for.

When the door closed, there was a bright yellow string thong pinned in the midst of Trent’s impressive bra collection.

Lee arrived at the base in time neatly dressed in his office attire.

“Good Morning!” he greeted politely. Corporal Dorset was at the phone, trying to contact his Sergeant.

When Dwight didn’t show up at 7:30 AM, Tommy reported to the Major that Sergeant Collins was missing. There were as well reports that Lance Corporal Riley and Private Johnson did not report for duty as well.

Benjamin O’Rourke didn’t hesitate a moment. Dwight was highly reliable and diligent. He knew instantly that something was dead wrong. It took the specialists only minutes to trace Dwight’s mobile and 45 minutes after Corporal Dorset had notified his superior about the Sergeant’s disappearance a team of USMC MPs was swarming through the old warehouse in downtown.

Muffled shouts and dull thuds lead them to the dumpster that was locked from the outside.

At 9:30 AM Dwight, Chuck and Mike were standing at attention in front of Ben’s desk. The three blushed Marines were wearing fresh clothes and a stoic expression, while Ben was ranting. Lee seemed to sink deeper down in his chair.

“What a disgrace! In a dumpster! You are a shame for the Corps!” Ben roared, while he was striding around the three hapless Marines.

“Sir! Yes Sir!” the three shouted. The major brought his face close, very close to Dwight’s reddened face.

“You fix that, Collins and you do it fast or I swear I rip your balls off,” Ben said in a dangerous, low voice.

“Sir! Yes. Sir!” Dwight replied looking desperately at some point in midair somewhere behind Ben.

“Do you understand me, Sergeant?” the Major asked.

“Sir! Yes, Sir I understand!” Dwight shouted.

“Did I make myself clear,” the Major shouted.

“Sir! Yes-sir, crystal clear!” Dwight shouted back still looking straight ahead.

“Out!” the Major yelled.

The three Marine’s saluted and hurried out of the office. Lee nodded quickly and rushed after them.

“Fuck!” Dwight puffed when they were back in his office. Lee entered silently and sat down on a chair. He looked up at the three embarrassed looking Marines.

“Uh, why don’t we sit down and discuss the situation calmly, I am sure …” he stopped when he realized the tormented expression in the three faces.

“Was it something, I said?” he asked cautiously.

The three looked at each other. Finally Dwight cleared his throat.

“No, uhmmm, it’s ok Lee, we …we rather like to stand while we are talking, you know?” Dwight’s face had turned crimson.

Lee looked at him and then it hit him.

“Oh, I see …, he aspirated.

The three looked at the small Asian inquiringly, but there was not even a hint of a smile.

“Does anybody have an idea?” Dwight looked around, but nobody replied.

“Well then, let’s call the cavalry,” Dwight sighed. He took the phone and asked Tommy:
“Get me Iraq, Master Sergeant O’Dowerty!”

Almost on the opposite side of the globe the squad was riding on the back of a heavy ‘Bad Boy’ armored truck. Hank O’Dowerty enjoyed the aromatic taste of his Cohiba. They had seized 50 boxes of Cuban cigars during a raid north of Basra.  Now, the squad was on their way back to the harbor city in Southern Iraq. His men were upbeat to staying in an urban environment for a few days at least, after celibate months in a harsh desert environment. The smoke of the cigar was blending into the pungent stench of male sweat, unwashed clothes and cum that was hanging in the thick air of the sealed armored cabin that had been mounted onto the truck in order to provide additional protection.

“I heard they have some pretty ‘lil whores over there,” Corporal Tanker drawled in his Texan accent. The Corporal with his blond crew cut hair was a typical 22-years-old all-American classic corn-fed country boy.

“That will be much hotter than that shit down here.” He pointed with his chin down. Kneeling between Hank’s thighs was the leader of the insurgent group whom they had taken out in the North after a fierce battle.

The Arab was about 27 years-old. Rashad had his black curly hair buzz cut and was unusually powerful built compared to the average Iraqis. Standing 5.9 ft. tall he weighed 210 lbs. His hard body was almost 100% sculpted muscle. He had fought even after the squad had taken the entire stronghold. Rashad had been trained in martial arts. Fresh bruises on Hank’s face as well as a cracked rib reminded him that this guy was a bundle of muscle and fanatic fury. In order to ‘chill’ the rug-head down until his interrogation, he had been stripped naked. His wrists were cuffed with plastic strings behind his back. The olive skin was covered in dust and sweat. The bruised face was buried in Hank’s lap.

The Master Sergeant knew how to humiliate the Arabs. He had his ways to get amazingly fast confessions and even the most fanatic captive, left Hank’s interrogation sessions broken and as docile as a lamb. There had been once a UN investigation and the attractive middle-aged woman with her stern look, wearing old-fashioned glasses, who was leading the delegation had asked the Master Sergeant a number of tough questions with regards to compliance with Human Rights of the prisoners. Hank had just shrugged it off. His job, he said, was to fight a war and to keep his men alive and that this was far from being a summer camp for some white-collar boy scouts. He had turned around and disappeared into his tent. The enraged delegation head didn’t take that for an answer and rushed after him.

There had been a short, heated debate that could clearly be heard from outside the tent. Then there were a few giggles and grunts and then silence. Finally, some concerned delegates wanted to look what was happening, but were stopped in front of the tent by two stern looking Marines. Almost after one hour the delegation head left the tent with a flushed expression. Her hair was tousled and the blouse was hanging from her skirt. She was polishing her glasses and went to the Toyota Land Cruiser that had delivered them to the squad’s desert camp. Hank appeared in the entrance of the tent, bare-chested and smoking a cigar.

“Have a safe trip home,” he waved after the departing four-wheel drive. His men were grinning.

Rashad knew who was using him like a cheap whore. "Al-Dowary" was feared among the insurgents. The commando leader was aware, that he was in the hands of a formidable foe. Four hours he was already sucking on the Americans’ dicks. The six Marines had an impressive stamina and after being away from any brothel for quite a time they had plenty resources. Five Marines had already dumped their gooey cum down Rashad’s throat and they were still hard, ready for more; only the leader of the squad seemed to be quite unimpressed.

Hank’s 11 inch dick remained half-hard and Hank was determined not to cross over to a climax which could have distracted him from watching the rebel, who had been so difficult to capture. His instinct told him that this man was dangerous. So he just contented himself with burying his dick in Rashad’s moist and warm mouth. From time to time he would push the shaven head in front of him deeper into his crotch, making the Arab hunk gag and cough.

It was already close to midnight when the convoy arrived at Basra. Hank and Tanker left at the hospital because Hank wanted his rib to be attended to. He held the naked Rashad at gun point.

“Do anything funny and I swear I will shoot your fuckin’ balls off”, he threatened.

At this late hour there was only one nurse at the ambulance ward.

“Hey pretty lady, “ Tanker grinned. The woman in her early thirties was looking interested at the strapping young hunk with the boyish face. She led the men into the emergency ward. There was an examination desk, overhead lamps, anesthetic machine, surgical instruments and a selection of bandages. Outside in the hallway a phone was ringing.

“Excuse me,” the nurse left to fetch the call.

“That is a hot chick and I bet she needs it,” Tanker grinned lasciviously, ”all alone so late at night.”

“There is a call from the states, Sarge,” the nurse was back, holding a satellite phone.

“Fuck! How did they find me here?” Hank cursed. He was tired and he needed a shower.

“They called already a couple of times,” the nurse explained.

“Hello?” Hank asked into the receiver.

The nurse cut Rashad’s wrists free and told him to lie down on the examination desk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hank glared at the nurse.

“B-but …” she stammered.

“I am the patient, not him,” Hank grunted angrily. He pointed with the gun to Rashad and made him sit on a chair, where he had the Arab in his view while sitting on the desk. He handed the gun to Tanker and took his sweaty camo T-shirt off.

“I need a bandage, here and here,” he barked at the nurse.

“Hello, sorry I had to … who the fuck is that? Dwight?! Hi buddy how’s it hangin’?” Hank heard Dwight’s voice far away and garbled.

Dwight told him about the mishap and Hank cursed.

“Damn you! I told you not to mess with the Rowleys on your own”, he scolded while the nurse applied a bandage, carefully watched by Rashad and Tanker. The Corporal looked over the nurse’s shoulder, almost breathing into her blond hair. Her female scent triggered an immediate reaction. Rashad watched the camo pants tenting. He as well got aroused and tried to cover his erection by cupping his hands.

“You know there might be some chance for you, but you need assistance and you will not like it,” Hank said.

“Whatever it is, I am in shit up to my neck already,” Dwight replied.

“You remember Taylor Henderson?” Hank asked.

“Taylor Hen… You mean that brat who almost fucked the whole base?” Dwight asked surprised.

He fucked his brother and topped me, Hank thought. The memories of what had been done to him in the hands of the teen gang resurfaced. He remembered how stupidly he had been caught with his dick embedded in a phantom mare. That brat had played him well. He grinned, when he remembered how he had gotten even with Taylor. All these thoughts did more than hours of sucking by Rashad. Hank was throwing raging boner and that didn’t go unnoticed by the nurse, who slightly blushed.

“Taylor, he should now be about 22 years. Contact him and ask him for one of his mean tricks. He took me down once, so he might know the right trick for the Rowleys as well,” Hank said. Absentminded he rubbed his crotch.

“Anyway, I can handle it now, too. I cracked a rib, so I guess they send me back early,” Hank said. They exchanged the latest news and finally Dwight hung up.

Tanker had embraced the nurse from behind and squeezed her boobs. The woman moaned softly.

“Oh my god, ya’ need it badly as well,” Hank laughed.

Tanker grinned sheepishly.

‘Gimme the gun and do your business,” Hank grinned back.

Tanker and the nurse left. Her blouse was already open before the door closed. Hank turned to Rashad and pointed with his gun at the naked Arab.

“And you get your ass over here,” he unbuttoned his pants and reclined on the table.

“Ya’ know what to do, bitch,” Hank pushed the camos down to his thighs and produced his rock hard man tool.

Rashad realized immediately that the situation had changed. The big American was visibly aroused. Whether it was the phone call or his fuck buddy’s hitting at the nurse; Rashad did not care. This could be his chance to escape.

Rashad fucked both women and men and he was good at that. He was not really shocked or stunned by the fact that he had been forced to service the Marine squad. Without hesitation he swallowed the 11 inch Marine cock in full.

Tanker followed the nurse into her office a few yards down the hallway. There was a bunk bed. The Corporal was down to his army boxers in no time, yet he was up for a surprise, when he turned around the nurse was smiling at him in all her naked glory.

The young Marine was pushed down on the bunk bed and stripped bare before he knew it.

“Oh yeah …” he moaned, when his young hard cock was perfectly sucked. Tanker was about to experience what it meant to be in the hands of an expert older woman. He closed his eyes and arched his back when she brought him to the brink of an orgasm and held him there, before letting him chill down. Her sharp finger nail was scratching at his sphincter, making him shudder.

In the emergency ward, Hank had stripped off all his dirty clothes. His dog tags were rattling. He could smell his rank body odor, but he couldn’t care less. He was not with a lover, but with an enemy. He could see the Arab’s hate in his loathing eyes and knew that this man was far from broken. He forced the naked Iraqi to bend over the examination table.

“What do you want now, Amariki?” Rashad asked in his heavy Middle-Eastern accent.

“Shut up, you piece of shit!” Hank shouted and aimed his boner between the spread buttocks.

“Aaaaahhhhhh …” The Arab howled when Hank rammed his massive erection between the firm cheeks of the muscle butt right into the tight ass hole. The Marine felt his hard rod overwhelming the Arabs rear defenses. The meaty shaft plunged deep into the tight warm channel. Hank knew that this utter humiliation would smash the insurgent leader’s male ego to pieces. He had fucked numerous of these Arab macho hunks into oblivion before. Arrogance and pride were easily crashed by his Marine ram rod. Soon he would see this tough guy sobbing and begging for mercy.

“Yeah, that is what you need, bitch, this is what you all need, bloody bastards,” Hank hissed through clenched teeth. He was speeding up his humping rhythm.

Rashad was breathing heavily. He was trying to accommodate the huge man meat that was working inside his guts.

“Uh ..ohh …uhhh”, Rashad uttered a few meek moans faking submission The big stud was to believe that he was getting into it.

“Yeah, motherfucker, you are going down,” Hank growled. His hips were slamming against Rashad’s buttocks.

“Uuuuhhh… “ Rashad squirmed.

“There and there and there,” Hank was fucking the Arab now with accentuated thrusts.

“No! Fuuck you! Amariki, fuuck you,” Rashad hollered.

“Oh yesss! I make you scream like a dirty alley whore!” Hank sneered.

“Uuuuuurrrgh…” Rashad yowled.

Hank pulled his dick from Rashad’s ass. The rebel leader expected the American to cum on his back. To his surprise he found himself flipped around on his back.

“You can’t trick me, rug-head! Not me!” Hank sneered while he mounted the table. He raised Rashad’s legs on his shoulders and guided his man tool again inside the quivering sphincter. Rashad’s eyes bulged.

“AAaaahhh!” he howled in agony. The American was big. Suddenly Rashad had doubts whether he could escape from this super-hunk.

Hank grinned, he recognized the look in Rashad’s face and went for the kill.

“You are a whore, aren’t ‘ya?” Hank was bitch-slapping Rashad’s face.

“Ooww … nnooo,” Rashad had tears in eyes.

“Tell me ‘ya are my fuckin’ bitch!” Hank shouted and slapped the Arab again.

Rashad was huffing and puffing. He had to admit the American leader was a hot fucker. Hank was pushing him down with the whole weight of his body. Both men were covered in sweat. Hank plunged his entire man tool inside the convulsing Iraqi and moved his hips in circular motions.

“Ohhhh …,” Rashad yelped, when Hank hit his prostrate.

“Come on bitch, say it!” Hank demanded. Now he slapped Rashad’s ass cheeks.

“Aaawww. I …I,” Rashad gasped.

“What?” Hank’s face was now right in front of Rashad’s.

“I am your whore, ok you win Amariki, I’m your bitch,” Rashad howled.

“Damn’ right! Yes you are!” Hank sneered and spat into Rashad’s face.

“Oh yeah man fuck me!” Rashad looked up at him. Lecherous he tried to gather some of Hank’s saliva with his tongue. The Iraqi was slowly losing his composure. The hot fuck was getting to him, melting his defenses. The Arab realized that this American could reduce him indeed to a fucking whore. Desperately Rashad tried to focus on his home his family, but the ongoing hits at his prostrate triggered increasingly his instincts.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard!” Rashad egged the humping Marine on and he was not faking any longer.

“Oh yeah, bitch, I give it to you!” Hank was now power-fucking. His balls were aching for relief and attached themselves to the base of his rock-hard cock. His entire crotch seemed to contract and his abs went rigid.

Without interrupting his slamming, Hank fixed his chin on Rashad’s shoulder and moved his knees closer to the Arab’s pumped ass in order to get a better hold. The he bent down and trapped Rashad’s sweaty torso in an iron embrace. Only his hips were now undulating, rapidly and hard. The Marine’s back and his ass were glistening with a thick coat of sweat.

Rashad’s face turned to the side. Gathering what was left of his dwindling resistance he reached for the anesthetic machine.

“Uuh, fuck!” Hank was getting close now. Cum was churning in his bloated testicles. Now there was no turning back. He needed to get off and to pump his seed into the helpless groaning insurgent leader was a major turn-on.

Rashad unhooked the mask from the machine and pulled it towards him, however, the breathing hose was too short and the apparatus too far away from the desk. Rashad clenched his teeth and pulled again. If the hose came off, or if the machine toppled, he would be doomed. The black hose stretched to its maximum. Slowly the trolley on which the apparatus had been mounted began to move. Praise to Allah , Rashad thought relieved.

The Arab listened to the gasping of the Marine. When the moaning changed into a guttural grunt and the bucking rhythm turned slightly erratic, although the American was still humping him with full force, Rashad concentrated on his sphincter. His left hand traveled slowly down until he was able to reach one of the hunk’s flexing butt cheeks.

Hank oblivious to his surroundings gave in to his primal needs. His eyes closed as his face contorted.

“Uuurgghh!” A deep guttural groan signaled that his balls had started to pump his semen. Suddenly the already tight ass clenched even firmer around his throbbing rod and simultaneously he felt fingernails digging into his butt. His climax was triggered. The tattooed back arched as the big Marine jerked up and a first spurt of his cum gushed into the Arab’s ass.

“Uuuh! Yeah!” he hollered. There was again this unique sentiment of absolute power over another man, the act of taking possession of a former independent being. Confirming the position of being the undisputed leader of the pack. Irritated he registered that his head was seized.

Through his blurred vision Hank realized that the Rashad was holding a kind of combination of a tube and a mask in his hand. Too slow did his lust flooded mind register, what the Iraqi was doing.

“What the fu …,” The Arab was fast and Hank with his body jolting from his cum shots had no chance to defend himself. The mask was slipped over his head and secured by both a padded face plate and a non-elastic neck strap. A tube from the mouth piece slid down his throat and made him cough. He wanted to spit it out, but was efficiently prevented by a bite block, that forced his strong jaws apart.

In reflex he inhaled deeply and a sensor kicked the apparatus into operating mode. Valves opened with a hissing noise. Nitrous oxide and oxygen from high-pressure cylinders were pumped into a vaporization chamber and ventilated into the breathing hose. A hospital like smell invaded Hank’s mouth and nostrils. He had a feeling as if his lungs would explode from the gas mixture that the apparatus was now pumping inside of him.

“You like the blow-job?” Rashad laughed.

“Nnnnggghhhhh…aauuurrggh,” the big Marine choked and gurgled.

The American’s hands were shooting up, grappling to his face in a desperate attempt to rip the mask off, but Rashad caught both wrists and forced the struggling arms down. He wrapped his muscular legs around the Marine’s hips and buried his heels into the buttocks, preventing the writhing stud from pulling his cum-spurting dick out of his ass.

“Fuck me, Amariki, fuck me hard!” Rashad gloated.

“Auurghhhhuuu!” the mockery drove the Marine into a state of raging fury. Hank’s arm muscles bulged and his pecs were pumped, while he wrestled with the Arab, but the ongoing ejaculations were sapping his strength away. He held his breath and pressed instead air from his lungs against the incoming flush of gas.

The nitrous oxide and oxygen flow control reacted promptly and increased the flow of nitro-oxide. In rising panic he tried to wriggle from Rashad’s grip, but the excruciating pain from the cracked rib stunned him. He gasped in pain and the anesthetic gas flooded his lungs.

“Mmpff...urgh,” coughing and retching Hank threw his head right and left, back and forth, but the mask did not come off. Frantically the Marine was digging his toes into the leather-covered surface of the examination desk and tried to push his body up. He only wanted to get away from the Arab, who was sucking his man juice from his swollen, over-stimulated dick. His thighs were trembling from the effort. Slowly his twitching dick moved halfway out of the ass.

“Give it to me fucker!” Rashad slammed his heels into Hank’s buttocks and the Marine’s feet lost their hold on the sweat slippery surface of the desk. His brawny legs slid on both sides from the desk, spreading his thighs wide open. Driven by the weight of his 200lbs. body Hank sank the entire length of his shaft again into the tight embrace of the milking sphincter.

“Aaaoourghh,” Hank’s howl of fury and despair was stifled by the mask, however, the nurse heard it.

“What was that?” she asked interrupting her ride.

“Ahh … shit ... don’t stop, it’s ‘da Sarge having his way with the bloody rug-head,” Tanker gasped, ”come on baby, ride me, ride my dick!” He bucked his hips and the nurse continued her pounding fuck ride.

Hank’s hunky body went from contraction into spasms. His head was swaying in disorientation.

“Is that all you’ve got, Amariki?” Rashad sneered. He knew that he had the American trapped. Helpless impaling himself, he would finally go down simultaneously drained and drugged.

The anesthesia started to kick in. The room seemed to turn upside down. Heavy heartbeat was pounding in Hank’s ears.

“MMmmrrrrghh …. Ghh,” the Marine’s entire body was shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He couldn’t stop cuming and at the same time felt so much at ease.

“Yeah, you are a good breeding bull, Amariki,” Rashad laughed while his guts were collecting his enemy’s man seed. He knew that he was sucking the energy from his foe. The powerful arms were already weakening. The muscles were slacking and the heavy body slumped.

Rashad released the wrists and stopped Hank from collapsing on top of him by supporting his sculpted chest. He wanted to savor every moment of his enemy’s downfall. His thumbs and fingers started to play with the fleshy nipples, inflicting more sexual torment on the moaning stud.

Hank leaned powerless against Rashad’s strong hands. The Arab watched the red face behind the mask and the look of disbelief and horror in the eyes of the big American.

“Who is the whore now, Amariki?” Rashad twisted Hank’s nipples and made him moan.

“Uuuhhmmmphh,” Hank’s eyes rolled backwards. His dick randomly spurting cum held him weak. Rashad’s sphincter milked the desperate writhing American for all he was worth. Cum spilled between the thrusting shaft and the brim of the puckered hole and dripping down on his brown nuts.

“Hhuuuuh…huhhhh,” Hank felt the control over his body slipping away. He sobbed in desperate fury. The rug-head had him.

Rashad let the limp body sink down on his chest. Tenderly he was petting the head that was resting calmly on his shoulder; just like he was petting his baby son. The Marine went silent. The only noise that could be heard was the hissing sound of the apparatus.

Rashad was equally amazed and amused that the conked out American was still producing sporadic cum shots. It took another ten minutes until the spasms of the hunk’s cock subsided. When Rashad pushed the hot sweaty body aside, carefully avoiding him from falling from the desk and disconnect the breathing hose. Hank’s cock slipped with a soft, plopping sound from Rashad’s sphincter that had become a murderous trap for the baby maker of the narcotized stud.

Rashad rushed on naked feet to the swinging door and peeked cautiously into the aisle. From the nurses station he heard the unmistakable noises of raunchy love-making. Good girl, he thought, keep the young Amariki busy. He returned back into the emergency ward.

So - that is the feared Al-Dowary , the rebel leader mused. A machine made to fight and to fuck. His eyes traveled across the broad back covered with Celtic tattoos. The red-brown hair was buzz cut at the sides of the head. Rashad playfully spread the Marine’s dimpled butt cheeks revealing the pink puckered ass-hole. Rashad’s index finger played with the relaxed sphincter. The ass crack was clean shaven like the nut sack, no trace of the reddish fur that covered his chest and groin. The semi-erect cock was still impressive. The Iraqi noticed the two heavy testicles hanging low in the wrinkled nut sack. Although he had been thoroughly milked, the nuts had still almost the size of golf balls. The Amariki was a bull indeed.

Rashad rubbed the sweaty back with his hands and inhaled the musky, manly scent. He was very well aware, how lucky he had been to take this hunk down. If the American had not been out in the desert for over a month, deprived of any true opportunity to get off – Rashad knew that a stud like Hank could never be satisfied by occasional jack-offs – he would never had been that careless and let down his guard.

Now Rashad would take him. The Amariki was up for a surprise, he could never have imagined. As such, the feared fighter came as a gift from heaven, offering entirely new options to the rebel movement. Rashad chuckled. It was a ludicrous twist of fortune that in the end Al-Dowary would aid to the rebel’s cause more than he had ever harmed them. But first, the Marine squad leader would satisfy Rashad’s personal pleasures.

The Arab shifted and rolled Hank’s heavy body until he had him propped across the examination table, legs, arms and head dangling down. He crouched under the table and tied the wrists firmly to the ankles with traction bandages. He found adhesive tape and fixed the torso to the table by crisscrossing the tape over the tattooed back.

Having double-checked that he had securely tethered his bull, he removed the hose and the tube but left the face mask and the bite block in place. Arms akimbo Rashad positioned his narrow hips close in front of the American’s dangling head. He pulled the head up and fed his 9 inch circumcised man pole into the force-opened mouth.

The hunky Marine woke with a deep groan. Reality was sinking in gradually. He remembered the rug-head trapping his wrists in an iron grip. The velvet massage of the sphincter forcing him to spill his fuckin load, getting drugged by the devilish apparatus and finally passing out in the arms of this bastard.

He tried to move his arms, but couldn’t. His wrists were tied and so were his ankles. In disbelief he realized that he was face-fucked and at that moment he tasted cum, lots of cum that covered his throat and tongue. Rashad had been so turned on that it took him only a few thrusts to spill a heavy load of his Arabian man-juice into the Marine’s throat. Hank’s jaws were efficiently kept apart by the bite block and all he could do was swallow, gag and cough miserably.

When it sank in what was done to him, Hank’s mind snapped. Snorting with rage the muscular Marine struggled in his bonds. The traction bandages were cutting deep into his flesh. His muscles were flexing bulging. The whole table started to shake, but Rashad had no difficulty to control the furious hunk’s ravage.

He waited until his cum shots subsided, indulging in the sweet sensations, which were provided by the loathing American’s throat.

“If you that you won’t make noise, I will take it off.” the Iraqi bent down and looked straight into Hank’s crimson face.

Hank realized that he had no choice but to give in to the hated foe for the moment. Heavily breathing he nodded. Rashad removed the mask. Hank was spitting cum and saliva from his mouth. He felt nauseous from the enforced anesthesia. Painfully he raised his dizzy head and tried to focus on what the Arab was doing.

“How is my bull feeling?” the Iraqi asked almost casually.

“I’ll kill you, I swear I’ll kill you for that,” Hank said in a low voice.

“Of course you will try Amariki,” Rashad grinned, “but until then let me entertain you, or would you like to continue entertaining me?”

“Fuck you!” Hank cursed writhing in his bonds.

The rebel leader snickered. He walked behind the American and embraced him, rubbing his crotch against his ass. He would ride this bull raw.

“Get off! You …arrghmmmmfff,” Hanks shout was stifled by Rashad’s big hand that closed over his mouth.

“Shhh, we promised to behave like a good boy and make no noise,” Rashad purred. His hips wriggled and Hank felt the Arab’s dick pushing against his sphincter.

“I make you my whore, big man” Rashad whispered hoarsely and pushed.

Hank chuckled.

“Why are you laughing, Amariki?” the Iraqi asked startled.

“You can take my ass, motherfucker, but I won’t be the bitch of your pathetic Arab prick,” Hank sneered, “I hope you have fun at least, but be aware that I’ve fucked too many of your miserable brothers and sisters already. Whatever you can dish out I have done it to your kin already and I can take it.”

Rashad went mad. His dick thrust past Hank’s ass muscle all the way, without any lube, but the American laughed.

“That’s all you have to offer, rug-head?” Hank sneered, ”give me your best shot, son-of-a-bitch!”

Rashad went berserk. He drove his dick inside the snickering Marine with all the power of his sinewy body. He could swear that he was repeatedly hitting the big hunk’s g-spot, but the stud never lost his composure. Rashad’s body was glistening from sweat. He was cursing and hollering, but the big Marine remained resilient. The Arab’s moves were slowing down.

“Tired already?” Hank gloated. He hadn’t been fucked that good since a long time, but he wouldn’t give the Arab the satisfaction of admitting this. This was payback time for what the rebel had done to him.

Rashad was knackered. He could not believe that he hadn’t succeeded to conquer the American. His body was resting heavily on Hank’s back. He was gasping; his hips were bucking mechanically. His arms slid down Hank’s shoulders and reached around the chiseled chest. His fingers played absently with Hank’s tits.

“I’ll get you, Amariki, I swear I turn you into a screaming bitch,” Rashad croaked unwilling to admit defeat. His exhausted body was almost glued to the Marine by the sweat of both men.

There was no reply. The Iraqi was wondering whether the American was faking unconsciousness, but the hunk was breathing fast and then it dawned upon Rashad, that the Marine’s body was suddenly rigid.

“Oh why didn’t you tell me earlier?” now the Arab sneered and pinched Hank’s swollen man tits.

“Fuck you!” Hank hissed. He responded always very intensely to his nipples. Now that the Iraqi had found out, he knew he was in trouble.

Rashad squeezed and kneaded Hank’s pecs relentlessly, while his hips were pounding with renewed energy.

“Nnnnghhh… shiiiittt,” finally the American responded. He did not moan and howl as Rashad had hoped but his self-control was shattered. The shell was cracked and now the Arab sensed reactions to his stimulations all over the Marine’s body.

“So finally the big badass Marine gets turned on by the fuckin’ rug-head, huh?” Rashad sneered. He caressed the hard nipples with agonizing softness.

Hank felt suddenly weak. He was almost ready to agree to any kind of sex with the Iraqi and had to fight not to start groaning in uninhibited ecstasy. But then his body took over. He felt the well-known contractions of his balls and knew what was coming.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Hank cursed. His warm cum was oozing down his thigh.

When the sphincter tightened spasmodically Rashad knew he had forced the American into a cum shot. Overwhelmed he gave up his resistance to his climax and seeded the Marine with his own gooey load.

“Aaahhh …. Yess Ammmaarrikkkiiiii,” Rashad hang onto Hank’s back until the last of his spasms subsided. Then he jumped off his bull and slapped the buttocks playfully.

“Well done Amariki, well done indeed,” Rashad walked to a side-board to prepare his next move, knowing that winning a battle didn’t mean to win the war.

“You are dead, rug-head, you are dead meat, I swear,” Hank fumed. He wondered what the Iraqi was doing.

“I don’t think so. Once I have gelded you into a steer, your temper will cool down Amariki. Be sure of that.” Rashad snickered. He was busy preparing instruments on a tray. With gloat he showed a scalpel to the Marine who watched in disbelief.

“Now, wait a minute!” Hank yelled.

Rashad poured a clear liquid from a brown bottle into a piece of absorbent gauze he was holding in his hand.

“Very nice of you, taking me here, where everything is in place, chloroform and instruments,” Rashad turned to Hank with a broad smile, which sent shivers of fear up the Marine’s spine.

“Fuck! You wouldn’t…” Hank shouted.

“I have done this many times on my farm, you know? That was, before you invaded my country, Amariki!” Rashad’s voice was suddenly hateful.

“Motherfucker! You won’t dare …”, Hank hollered in undisguised terror. His entire muscle-packed body writhed and struggled against the bandages and tapes.

“Nooo! … uhmmrgh …mfff, ” Rashad silenced him by putting the chloroformed gauze over the wriggling Marine’s mouth and nose.

“Mmmpfff…”, Hank coughed and choked. The acrid smell filled his throat. Desperately he tried to turn his head away, but the Arab followed him with ease keeping the gauze in place. The chloroform was already working on his system. His vision blurred and numbness was spreading through his body.

“Your fighting is pathetic, Amariki, you deserve to wake up as a stag,” Rashad sneered, while Hank’s struggling subsided.

When Hank opened his eyes again his limply dangling head faced the tiled floor of the emergency room below him. A wave of nausea flooded his body. Choking he puked the content of his stomach on the floor. After he finally recovered, he remembered what Rashad had threatened to do to him. He froze. There was no pain in his crotch. He raised his head and saw the Arab still naked leaning against a sideboard. He was holding a glass jar that was filled with a semitransparent dark red liquid. Inside some floating objects were blurry visible. Hank’s blood ran cold.

“I will take them as a souvenir.” Rashad sneered at the stunned American.

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