Consciousness returned with a reluctant slowness. Gradually, I became aware of the aching in my body, then of the cramped confines of the barred cage in which I lay. There was an unnatural silence, and I wondered briefly if I had gone deaf until my slight movement in the cell elicited a faint scraping sound. Peering over my shoulder, in the dim light, I looked for L.T., still bound to the "X" in the center of the room. But it was vacant, the straps dangling freely.
I grabbed the bars and pulled myself to a standing position. I was just about to call out for him when, suddenly, the heavy door to the cellblock was pulled open. Through the doorway entered two men, the one in the lead was naked and staggering slightly. On closer inspection, I noticed that he wasn't, in fact, completely naked, but wore a metal ring firmly secured around his cock and balls. It was Berlaski, one of my PFC's, a short, hairy, beefy Pollack. He was followed by one of the black clad guards that I recognized as Larsen, the blonde haired schmuck whose nose I had rearranged out in the field.
As they passed my cell, I leaned closer, my face pressed between two bars. "Ski! What the f..."
"Silence!" Larson roared, the palm of his left hand shoving my face back from the bars. "Your turn's coming soon enough, fuckface." He paused momentarily outside my cell. "And I wanna be right there when it does."
I looked over at Berlaski who glanced back at me, a look of what may have been pleading or fear, or maybe both, shadowing his rugged Polish features. He stopped and opened his mouth to speak. Abruptly, his head was flung back, a guttural scream erupting from his chest as he sank to his knees clutching at his manhood.
"SKI!!" I pressed myself to the bars, as if by sheer force of will I could fit between them. Stunned by seeing one of my men in such inexplicable agony, I barely felt Larsen's grip on my balls until his hot breath washed over my face.
"I said silence," he almost whispered, his face, with its twisted nose only inches from mine. "Disobedience will be punished." He grinned, giving his broken face a grotesque appearance. He raised an object in his right hand for me to see. It resembled a large pocket calculator . . . no, more like a TV remote control. A series of buttons and bars lined its surface. I watched as he punched a couple with his thumb, immediately followed by another coarse shriek from Ski.
"You see that cockring?" Larsen asked casually, nodding to Ski's crumpled form. His voice had a slightly nasal quality due to his restructured nose bones. "Not merely decorative," his grin widened. "But a very effective behavioral tool as well." A chuckle oozed from his throat. "Better living through technology."
I looked back at Ski, still kneeling, doubled over on the cold concrete floor, grasping at his groin. His square face was screwed into a grimace of suffering. I knew him as a man true to his heritage, with a high tolerance for pain. The fucking cockring had to cause excruciating torment for him to respond like this. And, he was a Marine, goddammit!
Larsen released my balls and stepped over to the kneeling captive. "On your feet, you fucking maggot." He pushed the toe of his boot into Ski's asscrack. "Unless you want some more."
Ski struggled to his feet, a look of shame in his eyes, dark and sunken in their sockets. Larsen shoved him sprawling into the open cell adjacent to mine, and swung the door shut with a metallic screech, engaging the lock. It was then that I noticed all the other cells were empty as well. Larsen headed out, pausing momentarily in front of me. He reached out and grabbed my nutsack, twisting once before releasing. "Soon," was all he said, and left, swinging the heavy wooden door closed behind him with a solid thud.
I immediately turned my attention back to Berlaski, lying on the floor of the small cell next to me, his hands still protectively covering his groin. "Ski, what the hell's going on?"
Slowly he brought himself to a half-crouch, his hands on two of the bars that separated our cells. His sizable polish sausage extended over his rounded balls, all the more prominent because of their constricting metal ring. "Sir, it's a nightmare. I can't believe this is really happening." Then, glancing down at his crotch, added, "But, I guess it is."
"What's happened? Where are the other squad members? Have you seen the Lieutenant?" I squatted down to face him, my hands on his as they gripped the bars, a minor reassurance.
His haunted brown eyes stared directly into mine. "We all thought you'd bought it." His eyes narrowed and he glanced away. "I don't mind telling you, Sir, you scared the shit outta me."
I reached my hand through the bars and gripped his meaty shoulder. He swallowed hard and continued. "The four of us, we were surrounded. Didn't hear a thing until I felt the fucking barrel of an M-16 at my back. We were marched back here by some goons in black uniforms." He brought his eyes back to mine. "No sign of you or Lieutenant Brown. We feared the worst."
His face became hard, the eyes cold. "They brought us to this room. Made us strip while they hooted and snorted." He turned his head and spat. "Fucking perverts!"
"When we were all naked, they forced us at gunpoint to bend over and grab our ankles. Said they were looking for weapons, but I think the guy got off on sticking his fingers up our assholes." A slight sarcastic smile curled the edges of his mouth, "Never even offered a cigarette afterwards."
"We were shoved into cells, the doors locked, and the goons left. We tried to talk to the guys in some of the other cells, but they hardly even looked at us." He looked down, running a finger lightly over the metal circle at his groin. "Now I know why."
"Shortly after that, two fuckers came in carrying the stripped lieutenant, and strapped him to that cross." He nodded his head to the wooden "X". "I figured that was a good sign, because if he was already dead, they'da buried 'im in the woods." Again, his eyes burned into mine. "That's why you scared me. We'd heard gunfire as we were being marched here. When L.T. appeared and you didn't, well . . ." He swallowed again, his adam's apple bobbing in his thick neck as he glanced down, suddenly embarrassed.
"So, then, we called to L.T., but he was out cold. I guess that should'a been pretty obvious since he didn't rip himself from those straps and punch out the little fucker that played with his prick." The slight grin was back on the pollack's face. "That L.T.'s hung like a horse, you know that?"
I let out a cough, surprised by the statement, and grinned back. "Uh, yeah. I know."
"Anyway," Ski continued, standing up and walking the meager distance to the other side of his cell, "shortly after that, this gorilla comes in with you over his shoulder and tosses you into that cell." He turned to face me, concern clouding his face. "Sarge, you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "What happened then?"
His face scrunched up, as if it were an effort to remember. "Well, not much later, the gorilla that dumped you there comes back with a group of other men. He goes directly to L.T., releases the straps and throws the unconscious lieutenant over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, while the other goons each go to one of our cells. They unlock the cell doors and haul us out, pushing us ahead of them. We get outside and Lieutenant Brown is carried into that farmhouse while the rest of us are herded into one of the buildings beside the barn."
I stood, stretching my legs which had cramped from squatting, as Berlaski turned away from me and continued his report.
"Inside were a couple cabinets and a large table and that's about it. Sort of reminded me of the infirmary, you know, clinical. We're standing there, still buck naked, wondering just what the fuck was going on. Johnson starts mouthing off to the bastards." Ski turned his head slightly, his back still facing me. "You know how he is."
I nodded, although I knew Ski couldn't see it. Johnson was the only black in the squad. A tall good looking product of the inner city. He was a good Marine, but he had a tendency to shoot his mouth off first and think afterward.
Berlaski reached up to rub his palm over the slightly balding area on the back of his head. "Next thing we know, these other eight guys, the ones that were in the cellblock here with us, they start screaming and grabbing their groins. Some of 'em fell to their knees," Ski's hand moved down to the back of his neck, "one of them pissed right there on the floor. Well, that shut Johnson up. Shut us all up. Then one of the goons holds up this little box for us to see. Says we either do what we're told or else."
He turned back to face me, the look of a trapped animal on his face. "Sarge, those other guys . . . they're brother Marines, most of 'em. We couldn't let 'em suffer. Didn't know right then what was going down, but it had something to do with that box."
I nodded again. "Ski, it's alright. There was nothing you could do."
He walked to the front of his cell, looking out at the vacant cells and the large X in the cellblock. "A couple of the goons hustle Johnson to the table in the middle of the room and force him down on his back while a couple other assholes hold his legs spread apart. Then the fucker with the broken nose . . ."
"Yeah," I said, "Larsen. We've met."
Ski glanced briefly at me with a questioning look before turning back to stare straight ahead. "Well, he goes to a cabinet and pulls out a hinged metal ring. Then he goes over and grabs Johnson by the balls and slips half the open ring underneath. The top half he closes over Johnson's prick and locks it into place, slick as shit. Johnson's cock and balls are trapped in the cockring."
I noticed Ski's hand reach down to his own encircled manhood before he continued. "One by one, Higgins, Jessen and me were all fitted in the same way." He dropped his head to look absently at the floor between his bare feet. "After that's when the fun began."
I leaned against the rear wall, arms folded across my chest, watching the short pollack's muscular back as he stood at his cell door staring out. I felt the guilt of responsibility. He was one of my men; and, whether physically or psychologically, he had been wounded and there was nothing I could do about it. But he was a true Marine and sucked it up, attempting an air of nonchalance as he continued.
"A couple of the goons set up a video camera. Then, what's 'is name . . . Larsen, he says we're to get it up and start beating off. I told the fuckin' pervert where to go as well as a few comments about his mother. That's when I got my first taste of the cockring's capability." He turned to face me, holding the ring around his genitals with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. "This fucker's damned effective, I can tell you that. That guy Larsen, he punches a couple'a buttons on the box and suddenly my cock and balls are on fire. My knees turn to jelly as I feel like my nuts are being ripped from my body." His eyes stared into mine. "Sarge, I ain't never felt anything like that before. I can take what's dished out and ask for seconds, but this . . ." He shook his square head and broke eye contact, again staring at the floor. "That fire stabbed into my guts, into my fucking BRAIN." He paused momentarily, struggling with himself to maintain composure. "I looked up and you can damn well bet that Johnson, Higgins and Jessen were pounding the monkey. Larsen looks at me with a sick grin on his face and says I'd better get with the program as he holds out his hand with the control in it. Well, they can tell all the pollack jokes they want, but I ain't stupid. I get to my feet and start strokin' my dick. All the while, they're videotaping us. Deviate sonsabitches."
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to absorb all that Berlaski was telling me. I knew immediately what the video tape was for. It was a catalogue, a live action brochure to advertise Peck's latest merchandise. My stomach churned and I felt like puking. Marines being sold like cattle to the highest bidder.
Ski turned away again, his muscles rippling like a panther's as he did. "After a few minutes of this, four of the other men were told to suck us off. They knelt before us without hesitation. Obviously. This hairy chested Italian with a "USMC" tattoo on his right arm takes my meat into his mouth and starts suckling like it was his momma's tit. I wanted to apologize to 'im. Tell 'im it was okay. But I didn't dare open my mouth. Not with this fuckin' thing." And, although his back was to me, I could tell Ski was grasping his crotch. Again, he turned his head slightly toward me without actually looking at me. "Sarge, you know I'm no faggot. Fuck, there's nothin' I like better than ballin' some hot chick. But this wop leatherneck had one helluva tongue. I shot my load down his throat, after which he quietly gets up and joins his buddies without looking at me."
Berlaski's head shook slightly from side to side. "I felt like a real prick, doing that to a brother Marine. Fuck!"
I pushed myself from the rear wall and joined Berlaski at the front of the cells. "Ski, you did what you had to do. It don't mean anything. We'll get these bastards. I promise."
He looked over at me and nodded. "Yeah. Okay." Then, turning again to stare out of his cell, he resumed. "After the four of us shot our wads, the camera was turned off and that guy Larsen tells the other goons to make their 'selections'. Then he comes over and grabs my nuts and announces that he's made his." Ski rubbed his eyes with the thumb and finger of his right hand. "Seems we were to be the 'reward' for the goons on patrol tonight. We were all led by our cock and balls to another section of the building. Each of us taken to a separate little cubicle with a rack in it. You know, a bed. I guess that's where all the other men still are. Larsen, the needle dicked little prick, he shuts the door to the cubicle, faces me and drops his pants." Ski hesitated. I noticed him swallow hard again, the adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Then he turned to face me, his eyes narrowed, his lips a thin line, his eyes boring into mine. "He fucked me, Sarge. The son of a goddamned bitch fucked my ass."
I couldn't think of anything to say. Didn't know how to reassure him. I wished to hell I did. I just reached my left hand through the bars, grabbed the back of his thick neck and squeezed.
He reached up to put his right hand over mine as it rested on his neck. "I guess I was luckier than the others." His gaze swept the empty cells. "Within a couple minutes it was over. Needledick pulls his pants up and brings me back here." Looking back at me, he finished, "And that's it. That's all I know."
Berlaski and I sat side by side in our cells. One by one, the remaining men were returned to their cells. I tried to make eye contact with my other men, but their eyes avoided mine. I couldn't blame them, and I wasn't about to make the same mistake I made with Ski by talking to them in front of Peck's henchmen.
A short time later, the heavy wooden door opened again and I recognized Dieter's hulking form at the entrance. He came directly to my cell and unlocked the door, throwing it open with a grating squeal. "On your feet, fuckface. Mr. Peck wants to see you."
Beyond Dieter's field of vision, I saw Berlaski start to stand and shot him a warning glance. Dieter grabbed the hair on my head as the toe of his boot met my groin. "I said MOVE, scumbag! And I mean NOW!" He pulled me up by my hair to a standing position, then with his free hand grabbed old Snake and pulled me close. His face filled my vision, his breath hot. "You're gonna learn to do what you're told, asshole. And I'm gonna enjoy every fucking minute of it."
Releasing my hair, he pulled on old Snake and I stumbled from the cell. I glanced over at Ski, his face shaded with concern, anger and fear; his hand unconsciously held in futile protection over his groin. Then Dieter, his calloused hand still gripping my cock, led me from the cellblock, through the antechamber and into the humid night air.
I was towed by my dick, none too gently, to the main house on the compound. Inside, we went up a thickly carpeted staircase and down a long hallway to a door at the far end. With one hand maintaining a secure grip on old Snake, Dieter used his other to rap once on the door. I heard Peck's voice from the other side. "Come in, Dieter. Come in."
Dieter turned the knob and swung the door wide. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach and I gasped as the door opened, revealing the scene in the room beyond.
Peck was standing with a sneering grin on his face behind the still naked, kneeling L.T. Two of his black clad henchmen were standing at parade rest in the far corner of the room. From my vantage point at the doorway, the lieutenant was in profile, and I could see that his wrists and ankles had been bound together behind him. Reddish purple bruises in the areas of the ropes indicated that he had not been passive in his bondage. He looked over at me as I was led into the room, and I could see the contusions on his face, the swollen lip and the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Ahh, look!" Peck reached down and grabbed L.T. by the hair, pulling his head back. "It's your little friend." He walked over to me as Dieter stepped around, pulling my arms painfully behind my back. "I'm glad you could join us. You see," he began, glancing over at L.T. before turning back to me, "we've been having a bit of a problem."
Reaching into one of the front pockets of his black BDU style trousers, Peck pulled out several of the metallic rings like I had seen on Berlaski, still open at the hinge. He held them out to me in his palm. "Amazing devices, actually. They were designed and manufactured specifically for me by a Japanese firm. Very clever minds, those Japanese; they can do anything with electronics." A grin spread across his face. "But, unfortunately, they have a somewhat limited conception of the male genitalia." Peck looked at the devices in his palm, the smile fading to a rueful expression. He picked out one of the rings with his other hand. "They made three sizes. This is the largest." He held it up in front of my face. From this proximity, I could see two small cone shaped projections, one inside each half of the open ring in the middle of the arc. They were obviously the electrodes. "Up until now, they have proved more than adequate," Peck continued. Then, looking over at L.T., he repeated, "Up until now."
I glanced at Lieutenant Brown, sweat matting the fur on is naked chest, his pendulous cock and balls hanging thickly between his thighs. He had a sneer on his face and spat in Peck's direction. Peck ignored the small act of defiance and turned back to me. "You see, his equipment exceeds even the most ample of our controllers." Peck's face took on a questioning look, his head tilted slightly, "Does it make you scream when he fucks you?" He was taunting now, goading me. "Or have you been sufficiently utilized to accommodate him?"
My face burned with anger, as I heard L.T.'s voice, quiet, slow and menacing. "You perverse slime. You've got me. Let my men go free." Apparently, L.T. didn't yet understand the nature or scope of Peck's operation. None of us were to go 'free'. We all now had a price on our heads.
"Ah, now, you see," Peck began, replacing the two smaller rings into his pocket as he turned to L.T., "it is precisely that sense of responsibility that I'm counting on." Peck snapped his fingers and his two cohorts came from the corner, each grabbing one of my ankles. My arms were pulled higher up my back in Dieter's powerful grip, supporting my body weight as my legs were splayed wide, allowing free access to my cock and balls. Peck directed his attention back to me, grabbing my balls with his free hand, and continued addressing the lieutenant, "In fact, loyalty and responsibility may prove an even stronger motivational tool than these could ever be." Saying this, he slipped the metal ring under my nutsack and, in spite of my best efforts to break free, brought the top half of the circle over old Snake and snapped it together, collaring my manhood in its tight constraint. The two cone shaped electrodes jabbed painfully into the skin, and I could feel Snake starting to distend as blood was trapped by the constricting band. Peck released his grip, stepping over to the kneeling L.T., and removed from another pocket one of the keypads I had seen Larsen use on Private Berlaski. "Release him," Peck said to the men securing me.
Instinct took over as my extremities were freed. In one continuing movement, I pivoted on my right foot, my left fist connecting with the jaw of the man at my left ankle, as my left heel collided with the temple of the man at my right. Completing the turn, I drove my right elbow into Dieter's midsection. I headed toward Peck, propelled by animalism and pure adrenaline.
A searing pain of electric fire knifed into my groin, bringing me to my knees just microseconds before exploding into white hot torment in my head. Momentarily disoriented, I shook my head and quickly glanced down at old Snake, a vague fear of discovering my nuts severed from my body and lying in a smoldering mass on the floor between my knees. Relieved at finding myself intact, I looked up to see Peck still holding out the control pad, a wicked sneer on his face.
L.T.'s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. He looked up at Peck standing beside him. "Enough, you sadistic sonuvabitch!" His face was red, eyes blazing. "You've made your point. I'll do whatever you want."
I started to stand, "NO! Lieutenant, you can't . . ." Another bolt struck into the center of my being, knocking me back to my knees.
I heard L.T.'s voice shouting through the pain, "Stop it! STOP IT, you fucking piece of malignant shit!" He was pulling at the ligatures binding his wrists and ankles, causing fresh abrasions. The veins on his neck stood out like ropes as he gritted his teeth in exertion. "I fucking SAID I would cooperate!"
Peck brought the control unit down to his side, but still pointed in my direction. "Yes," he grinned, grabbing L.T.'s hair with his free hand, "so you did."
L.T.'s face was like granite, his broad shoulders and bulging arms shaking in futile rage. "Just what the fuck do you want?"
Peck, still grinning, petted L.T.'s head as if he were a dog. "Now that we understand each other, I think we can dispense with those ropes." He nodded to one of the men who went over and cut the bonds that hog-tied L.T. "Please don't attempt anything foolish. Each of my men also possesses a keypad. Is that clear?"
"I understand," L.T. said as his hands and feet were released. He wiped at the trickle of drying blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Good," Peck replied. "Now stand up. At parade rest."
L.T. did as he was told, hands behind him, feet spread apart, his hair covered chest thrust out. He was the very epitome of a proud marine, and despite the circumstances, I felt honored to be serving under him.
Peck's eyes slowly travelled from the lieutenant's muscular thighs to his meaty cock and hefty balls, then upward past the narrowed, washboard abdomen to his broad, defined chest. Finally, looking into L.T.'s eyes, a sinister chuckle crawled from his throat.
"A fine specimen. I truly appreciate the care you have taken and the work you have put into your body." Peck ran the back of his right hand over Lieutenant Brown's hirsute chest as he replaced the control pad back into his pants pocket. "U.S. Marines always draw a good price, but you . . .,” he moved his hand down to cup the heavy nutsack as L.T. stood motionless, staring straight ahead, "you're going to exceed all my previous records."
I could see L.T.'s jaw muscles clenching, his chest rising in accelerated rhythm, and I knew that the only thing preventing him from lashing out was the metal ring surrounding old Snake. I knelt on the floor, helpless, knowing it was for my benefit only that he maintained his composure.
"Now then," Peck began, squeezing the egg sized balls in his fist, making L.T. wince in pain, "back on your knees, but keep your hands behind you." He released the lieutenant's nuts and began unbuckling his belt. "We're going to put that marine mouth of yours to work."
"NO!!", I shouted, springing to my feet. I lunged at Peck, then fell sprawling to the floor as the room turned white, searing pain radiating throughout my body from the cursed cockring. I heard Dieter laughing heartily behind me, and looked up to see L.T. already on his knees, face flushed, his eyes narrowed in hateful fury.
Peck looked casually in my direction. "That was extremely stupid," he said, continuing to open the fly of his black uniform trousers. "Even lab rats catch on to electric shock conditioning quicker than you do." Pushing his pants and briefs down to mid-thigh, he turned his attention back, with a sneer of contempt, to the kneeling, naked lieutenant at his feet.
Peck's shaft, although not as long as Dieter's, was thick with serpentine veins traversing its surface. Its bulbous head crept slowly from the sheathing foreskin as it stiffened, with a glistening drop of precum oozing from the pisshole. I watched from my position on the floor, the scorching pain still lingering in my groin, as Peck grabbed the base of his cock in one hand while placing the other on the back of L.T.'s head.
I looked around at Dieter standing behind me to see him holding the keypad, an evil grin on his face. "Give me a reason, asshole." His grin widened as he held out the remote. Viscous saliva caught in my throat as I turned back to see Peck pulling L.T. forward while sliding his cockhead over my C.O.'s face. Trails of slime left patterns in its wake as Peck continued to taunt the brawny lieutenant. "Let's see if we can get you to live up to the appellation of grunt. Whattaya say?"
Peck pressed his engorged prick against L.T.'s lips, smearing them with its seeping muck. "Open your fucking mouth."
The lieutenant's eyes were squeezed tight, his lips trembled in rage as they opened, allowing access to the intruding ramrod. The foreskin peeled back from the purplish glans as it crammed its way in. "And no teeth," Peck warned, "unless you want your sergeant's balls fried again."
Bitter, stinging bile burned at the back of my throat, and my stomach heaved as I watched Peck take one of L.T.'s ears in each hand. Then, suddenly pulling forward, he buried his cock to the hilt. The lieutenant's eyes opened wide, as a futile gagging shook his massive, furry chest.
I tried to look away, to shut out the act of carnal brutality occurring in front of me. But Dieter, standing directly behind me, grabbed my hair and forced me to watch. He rubbed his crotch on the back of my head and I could feel his swelling manhood straining against the fabric of his uniform trousers.
Peck continued to fuck L.T.'s face as Dieter rhythmically jabbed his bulging groin at the back of my head. I watched with hollow rage as L.T.'s nostrils flared, frantically fighting for oxygen between Peck's thrusts. But, through it all, in spite of the humiliating circumstances, my C.O. maintained a sense of pride and dignity. A wry smile crossed my face as I realized that no matter what they did to him, L.T. was not going to be broken, and my respect and admiration for the man grew even more.
Time became distorted as the rape dragged on. It seemed like an eternity before Peck began grunting in short, deep gasps. Then, after shooting his wad, he withdrew his fat, glistening cock and patted at L.T.'s cheek. "Not bad," Peck sneered. "With just a little more practice we'll turn you into a top-notch cocksucker."
L.T.'s expression was stone cold, but his eyes burned with fury as he puckered his lips and spat Peck's cum back into the man's face. "You sorry-assed pervert," L.T. growled with quiet menace, "your time's coming."
Peck's sneer turned to surprise as he wiped the slime from his face, then abruptly backhanded the kneeling Marine, snapping his head to the side. L.T. appeared unphased, a trickle of fresh blood running from the corner of his mouth, which turned up into a grin. "Coming soon," he added, then wiped his lips with the back of his left hand.
Peck nodded to the two flunkies in the corner of the room, who came over and lifted L.T. to his feet, and held his arms tightly behind his back. "Dieter," Peck barked, looking at me, "bring your pet over here." Turning back to the hunky lieutenant, he continued, "They seem to be very close, these two." Going to a small cabinet, Peck took out a pair of handcuffs. "Perhaps we can help them out." As he said this, Peck snapped one of the cuffs around my left wrist. Reaching down with his right hand, Peck hoisted L.T.'s considerable ballsack and slipped half of the other cuff underneath. He closed the top half over the lieutenant's hefty manmeat and clicked it shut. "Practically inseparable," he grinned as he clicked the improvised cockring even tighter around L.T.'s manhood, trapping the blood inside as it became turgid, crawling down his thigh and brushing the back of my hand. The touch was electric, and I could feel Old Snake respond in his own metallic snare.
Peck gripped L.T.'s mammoth meat, unable to completely encircle the circumference in his hand. I looked down, transfixed, as it continued to grow in the warmth of Peck's grasp. Until now I had only seen it flaccid, and even then it was impressive. Though I had fantasized about it, I never expected to actually see it in full glory. My breath caught in my chest as I willfully battled for control of Old Snake. I guess I really didn't have to worry. All eyes were centered on the awesome manmeat throbbing in Peck's fist.
L.T. took on an expression of contempt, his lips curled into a sneer as he looked directly into Peck's eyes. "You degenerate sonuvabitch," he spat. "What's your problem? You jealous?"
The corners of Peck's mouth quivered for a moment, whether out of anger or amusement, I couldn't determine. Releasing L.T.'s cock, he wiped his palm on the front of his shirt and looked over at Dieter. "Take them away," he said simply. Then, glancing briefly back at L.T. and me, he turned and left.
Dieter and the two goons from the corner escorted us from the room, my hand constantly brushing against Lieutenant Brown's swinging dick as we none too gracefully made our way out of the main house, across the lawn and into the converted barn. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to keep Old Snake under control, but the sensation of the lieutenant's hefty endowment swaying against my sweat drenched hand was undeniable.
Back at the cellblock, I was roughly shoved into the cell from which I had been taken, L.T. wincing in pain as his cock and balls were unexpectedly pulled from his groin by the handcuffs around my wrist. As he followed me into the small cubicle, the metal hinges screeched shut and the door locked.
Dieter's grin oozed malice as he stared at L.T.'s crotch. "I recommend you get some sleep. You got a busy day coming up." His lips pursed into a mock kiss, "Pleasant dreams, fuckheads." The two flunkies followed him as he exited, slamming the large wooden door behind them.
"Sir," I rasped, looking at L.T.'s bruised face, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that push." I glimpsed down at the chrome cuffs. "Are you alright?"
L.T. grinned ruefully, his bruised lips causing obvious discomfort, "Don't sweat the small stuff, Sarge."
"Begging the Lieutenant's pardon," I began, gesturing with my cuffed hand to the thick cockmeat lying on his thigh, "but that's a damn site more than 'small stuff'."
L.T.'s grin widened, again causing him to wince as his split lip began to ooze a fresh trickle of bright red blood.
The commotion of our entrance apparently awoke Ski, who arose from a dozing sleep on the concrete floor of the adjoining cell. His face, still etched with concern, brightened somewhat on seeing Lieutenant Brown and me. "Shit," he whispered, "am I ever glad to see you two." He rubbed a hairy hand over his eyes as if to convince himself we really existed. "I didn't know what to expect when they dragged Sarge outta here." Then, upon noticing L.T.'s battered face and lip, his expression clouded over again. "Lieutenant, are you okay?"
L.T. and I looked at each other and smiled. Turning back to Ski's worried expression, L.T. nodded his head, "That issue's been addressed, Private. Takes a helluva lot more than a pussy whipping to put a grunt down." Reaching through the bars of the cell, he grabbed Ski's beefy shoulder. "But, thanks for the concern, man." Then, looking around at the sleeping men in the darkened cells, added, "Now, I think we'd better join our cohorts and try to get some sleep."
Glancing at the handcuffs around his manhood, he looked directly into my eyes. "Sarge, I sure as hell hope you're not a fitful sleeper." Grinning slightly, we eased our way down, as carefully as possible, to a lying position on the cold, hard floor.
I felt my eyes had barely closed before I was jolted awake by a loud clanging. I looked up to see Dieter strutting down the aisle between the cages, dragging a nightstick over the bars. His booming voice echoed in the sparse chamber. "It's oh-six-hundred. Get 'em up, get 'em UP, GET 'EM UP!!"
As L.T. and I stood in unison to prevent any unnecessary pulling of the cuffs around his hefty package, Dieter continued his way to the far end of the room. "Assume the position, fuckheads...let's see how they're hangin' this morning."
It was readily apparent that this was a daily morning ritual. Each man stood at parade rest, hands crossed on his butt, feet spread, with cock and balls pressed through the bars at the front of their cells. Dieter stood at the end of the row and looked out at the series of cocks, some semi-turgid, others dangling limply, and a few with a rock-solid morning hard on. And all encircled with the cursed electronic cockring.
I watched, with building anger and frustration, as Higgins and Jessen joined in the formation. Johnson, apparently forgetting the lesson from the previous evening, spat on the floor outside his cell and turned to Dieter. "You honky mutherfucker. You get off on dick so much, how's about plantin' yer lips and kissin' it g'morning." I closed my eyes and braced myself, knowing what was to come next, as Dieter raised his right hand, the now familiar control box in his palm, and punched several buttons with his thumb. I heard a strangled scream and opened my eyes to see, not Johnson, but Ski doubled over on the floor in the adjoining cell, clutching at his crotch.
My jaws clenched as I looked over to see Dieter with a smile of sadistic evil on his face. "Now, then, asswipe," he began, sneering at Johnson's shocked expression, "you gonna get with the program, or do we fry some more eggs for breakfast?"
Johnson, obviously shaken, assumed parade rest with the others, his thick, black tubesteak jutting between the bars. He looked over at Ski, who was also starting to stand back up. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry. Jeez, man. . ."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" Dieter roared.
The message was clearly sent. Infractions were to be paid at another's expense. It was one thing to put yourself at risk; but simply unacceptable, however motivated, to cause another to suffer for your actions. L.T. and I moved to the front of the cell and joined the other men, my left wrist squeezed through the narrow bars alongside his massive meat. In this position, my left arm pressed against his body, and I could feel his muscles tensed; although, outwardly, he showed no emotion.
Dieter made his way up the row of cells, tweaking some of the protruding cocks, tapping others with the nightstick. Upon coming to Johnson, he stopped. Grabbing the thick, black meat in his fist, he pulled sharply, forcing the wincing black man's body to press harder against the bars in front of him. "Think you got some balls . . . cajones . . . huh?" His eyes glinted in evil amusement as he tapped at Johnson's nutsack with the nightstick. "Well, you better enjoy 'em while you still can, boy …" The handsome black man gritted his teeth as the tapping on his jewels became more forceful. "Ya see," Dieter brought the nightstick under Johnson's chin, looking into the man's frightened but defiant face, "Mr. Peck's got an order for a nigger eunuch."
Johnson's eyes flashed at the hated epithet, bringing a sharp chortle from Dieter who brought the nightstick down again, only to swing it crushing into the man's large, vulnerable nuts. "You won't be needing those much longer." Johnson sank to his knees, a horrible gurgling escaping from his throat, as Dieter laughed. "I think you'll fill the bill just fine."
My stomach turned, partly from the sadistic display I had just witnessed, but also because I realized that Dieter was, in all probability, stating fact. Peck was certainly not averse to hacking off a man's balls if it would be to his financial advantage.
L.T.'s body was like a tightly wound spring against my arm, but still he gave no overt sign of what was going on inside his head. He continued to stare forward as Dieter resumed his way up toward our cell, stopping briefly to give a painful twist on Ski's left nipple. Ski's only response was a visible clenching of his jaw muscles. Dieter grinned slightly. "Tough guy, huh?" Ski remained silent, watching the hulking man in black warily as he moved on to stand directly in front of L.T. and me.
Sliding the nightstick under the lieutenant's sizable prick, Dieter bounced it a few times before holding it up on the polished wooden shaft. "Anybody ever tell you you're a freak of nature, big man?" He stared at L.T.'s massive member, unconsciously licking his lips, his jaw jutted out. Hefting it a couple more times, he let the dick flop heavily over the bulging nutsack, then slid the tip of the nightstick slowly up L.T.'s hairy abs and chest before bringing it to rest under his chin. L.T. fixed his eyes directly ahead as Dieter, with a slight sneer, studied his face. "Wanna know what I think?" He whispered conspiratorially, forcing L.T.'s chin up with the nightstick. "I think your momma was into screwing horses." Dieter's sneer broadened, his eyes glinting. "I think she spawned you after getting horse fucked. Am I right?" He was taunting, trying to elicit a reaction. And I couldn't help but notice the cylindrical bulge extending down the left thigh of his black trousers.
Dieter traced the wooden nightstick along Lieutenant Brown's square jaw and up to his lips before L.T. twisted his head away from the prodding rod. "Not into sucking, huh?" Dieter's voice was low. "Maybe you prefer it in the other end." He looked briefly at me before turning back to the lieutenant. "You didn't seem to have any complaints when your fuckbuddy here plowed your south forty."
My face burned red hot in humiliation and shame as a quizzical expression briefly flashed across L.T.'s face. I glowered at the hulking sadist. "You god damned son of a bitch." The words came slow and clipped.
Dieter turned his attention back to me, obviously enjoying himself. "Oh, c'mon. You can't tell me last night's little forest fuck session was the first time?" Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, he looked back at L.T. who lowered his head, now staring at the floor. "The sergeant here had one helluva good time cornholing your ass. Couldn't seem to get enough." He brought the nightstick back under L.T.'s chin forcing his head up to stare eye to eye. "My men and I, we enjoyed the show." His evil grin cracked across his face like a fissure. "We're all anxious for an encore. Maybe Mr. Peck should offer you as a team." He reached down to grope at the protuberance at his thigh. "God damn, wouldn't that be worth a bundle. The freak and his fuckbuddy. God DAMN!"
Dieter went to the heavy wooden door at the entrance of the cellblock and opened it, gesturing to the waiting guards on the other side.
I looked at Lieutenant Brown and swallowed hard. My heart felt like a lead weight in my chest. "Sir, about last night. I . . ."
He turned to face me, cutting me off in midsentence. "It's a non-issue, Sergeant." His words were quiet, reassuring. "It will not be addressed again." My respect and admiration for this man continued to grow. "You just refrain from yanking my chain," he nodded to the handcuffs which tethered us, "and we'll get through this." The corner of his mouth curled in a crooked half grin.
At that point, the guards entered the cellblock, one coming to stand at the front of each cage. On a signal from Dieter, they unlocked the cell doors and escorted the captives out, starting from the rear of the room and leaving L.T. and me to pull up the rear.
We were marched to a small field behind the barn-like structure where we were placed at attention and permitted to drain our bladders. Dieter stood in front of the last to finish, a husky, red haired Irishman who had some difficulty pissing with his morning hard on.
Dieter opened the fly of his black uniform trousers as he forced the man to his knees in the muddy puddle he had just created. "Looks like you're it, Red," he grinned, as he hauled out his corpulent prick. The rest of us stood at attention and watched as the kneeling man closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, the copper colored fur on his chest and shoulders glowing in the morning sun.
With one hand holding his cockmeat and the other pulling the irishman's head back by the hair, Dieter suddenly let flow a stream of vile yellow urine into the man's mouth and over his face. "Drink it down, maggot!" He chuckled as the man swallowed as much as he could, the rest dripping from his chin and soaking the chestnut pelt on his burly pecs. The stream slowed and finally ended, and Dieter nonchalantly replaced his fat dick in his pants, readjusted himself, and kicked at the man's balls. "Stand the fuck back up."
As the humiliated man struggled back to his feet, coughing and sputtering, Dieter strode up and down the line, hands clasped behind his back. "For you new fucks, consider this another lesson." He studied us with a scowl on his face. "DON'T be the last one." He stopped in front of Johnson. "You do what you're told, WHEN you're told." He hefted Johnson's bruised, black nutsack in his palm, the ebony cock resting on his wrist and forearm. Johnson stared blankly ahead as Dieter's lips brushed his right ear. "Or there'll be hell to pay." He closed his hand, squeezing the already tender balls in a tight fist. The sadistic grin returned as he watched Johnson's face scrunch up in pain.
With a final yank, he released the tortured testicles and gestured to one of the flunkies. "Clean 'em up." At that, we were hosed down with a spray of frigid water as we maintained the position of attention. My ballsack shriveled as my nuts attempted to retreat upward to escape the icy onslaught. Old Snake, with nowhere to run, hung exposed in limp defeat. After a thorough drenching from the front, the hose was brought to our rear, and the process repeated.
All the while, Dieter stood with his massive arms crossed over his barrel chest, a smirk on his face. Suddenly, he brought his hands to his hips and barked, "All right, ladies! Grab your ankles!"
I slowly and carefully bent forward, trying not to pull on the handcuff around L.T.'s manhood. I steadied myself with my right hand on my right ankle, the left wrist held out to the lieutenant's groin. The flow of water was adjusted to a forceful stream as the grinning henchman aimed it in turn at each man's exposed and puckered asshole. I almost lost my awkward balance as the liquid pressured its way past my rectal sphincter. I gritted my teeth as the water splashed up my back and ran in streams over my shrunken nutsack and dripped from the head of Old Snake.
I heard a low gasp from L.T. as the hose was redirected from my ass to his, and my left arm was soaked as I held it, with growing discomfort, out between his legs. After L.T., who was at the end of the row of men, the water was shut off, and Dieter strutted up to stand directly in front of me, his crotch an inch from my face. He seized a handful of the short hair on my head and pulled, burying my nose and mouth in his crotch. "You took your own sweet time bending down, didn't you fuckface?" I had a hard time breathing with my face pressed against the heavy fabric. "I fuckin' TOLD you, asshole, not to be the last one." With his free hand he snapped his fingers, and one of the flunkies came over. Dieter pulled my hair, forcing me to look up, as the guard handed him a large, nodular dildo. He grinned as he brought it down for me to inspect. "You win the honor of wearing this today."
L.T., apparently having had enough, stood erect, now eye to eye with Dieter. "You sonuvabitch! Leave him alone," he growled.
The next series of events happened with lightning speed. I watched as Dieter's face lit up with amusement. He released my hair, reached into his pocket, withdrew the control box, and rapidly pressed a few buttons. I fell to the ground as the electric fire seared my groin. My hands pulled instinctively to protect myself, the left arm meeting resistance from the handcuffs attached to L.T., who gasped and fell to his knees as his balls were wrenched away from his body.
"Okay, big man," Dieter began. He handed the control box to the guard who held it menacingly outward, thumb poised over the buttons. "I'll leave him alone. Today YOU get the honors." Saying this, he pushed L.T.'s head down with one hand while prodding the thick, dummy cock at his asshole.
L.T. grunted loudly as the plastic prick slid relentlessly past his asshole all the way to the flared base. Dieter stepped back, taking the control box back from his black clad flunky. He looked down the row of men still doubled over from the ass washing. "Ten-HUT!" he snapped.
I glanced over at L.T. as we stood, his face hard, his eyes blazing with ire. His jaw muscles clenched from the discomfort of the intruder in his guts.
Dieter stood with his face only inches from L.T.'s. "You will leave that fuckpole in place until I say to remove it." His eyes gleamed with sadistic enjoyment. He nodded his head in my direction. "Or Sarge, here, pays for it." His sneer widened as he looked at the handcuff around the brawny lieutenant's pendulous balls, "Of course, that'll probably mean a little agony for you, too, now won't it?" A deep, vile laugh erupted from his chest as he walked away. Then, passing by one of the guards on his way toward the farmhouse, he nodded his head in our direction. "Put 'em to work."