My head was throbbing, and I could feel an aching in my shoulders and neck as I opened my eyes, bringing my head up from my chest. I was back in the cellblock, but this time it was my turn to be strapped to the wooden "x". My arms were pulled tightly up and outward, held in place by the leather straps around my wrists. Most of my body weight was suspended by the traction on my shoulders.
I shook my head, trying to clear the remainder of the haze. There was a burning, dull pain in my cock and balls. A residual, no doubt, from the prolonged electro-torture of the cockring. In front of me was the mirrored wall, on the other side of which I knew was the viewing room where Dieter had face fucked me. But all I could see was my reflection, the image of a man spread eagle and naked. Then I realized there was more to my groin pain than first suspected. In the reflection, I saw a thin rope was tied with several turns, nooselike, around my nutsack, forcing my balls down and stretching the skin taut. A metal bucket was suspended from the other end, swaying gently between my splayed thighs. Looking down, I could see it was about a quarter full of loose sand. "Aw, shit," I mumbled to the empty room, "this can't be good."
I didn't have long to wait before the large wooden door screeched open, and Dieter came striding into the room, followed by a half dozen henchmen. I wondered how long he had been standing on the other side of the mirror, watching. Waiting for me to regain consciousness so that he could play his games. He approached me with a menacing grin until his nose was inches from mine.
"So, fuckhead," he snarled, his breath warm in my face, "have a nice nap?" He pinched one of my tits in each hand and twisted. I let out a yelp to the amusement of the men gathered in a semicircle around us. "You know, I'm pretty pissed about that show in Mr. Peck's office." He twisted roughly at my tits again, although this time I was prepared and stifled my reaction.
I looked Dieter eye to eye. "Listen, that wasn't my . . ." My words were cut short by a sharp slap across the face.
"Shut your fuckin' mouth!" Dieter roared, spittle spraying from his lips. "You don't fuckin' talk, understand? You're cattle, a piece of property, you got it?" His voice lowered, a sadistic gleam replacing the anger in his eyes. "And, for now, at least, you're mine."
I swallowed hard, my cheek and jaw stinging from the backhand blow. I had come to expect almost anything from these sadists and their seemingly endless imagination for torment.
"And, as I said," he began, his hands moving to undo the fly of his black uniform pants, "I'm still pissed. And when I get pissed, my buddies get pissed." He nodded his head to the other men, who I now noticed were also opening their trousers, hauling out their meat.
"So," Dieter shrugged, pulling out his thick, uncut prick, and drawing back the foreskin, "were gonna get un-pissed, so to speak." There were several snorts of laughter from the others.
Suddenly, a golden stream of urine arched from Dieter's cock and into the bucket dangling from my balls. The cord around my nutsack pulled tighter as Dieter's bladder emptied into the bucket, increasing the weight. Gradually the flow slowed, then ceased, and Dieter took his cock and tapped it on the rim of the bucket to remove the last few drops. I grimaced as the bucket jostled and swung between my legs. He grinned maliciously, and pulled the foreskin back over the head of his dick, replacing it in his pants. "Okay," he barked, "who's next?"
One of the men stepped forward, holding his long, skinny prick. "I guess that's me," he said, as his acrid stream began. "My bladder's about to burst." Whether by accident or design, he sprayed my abdomen, the warm piss flowing down my cock and balls and into the bucket below. "Ahhhhhh," he sighed as he drained the last from his dick and stepped away, rearranging himself back into his uniform.
"I'm next," said a husky, dark haired man with a full beard. He pulled on his thick, cut meat and let loose a stream that stuck my face. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together in an attempt to avoid the foul smelling liquid. He then aimed it over my chest, soaking the hair and running in streams down my belly and into the bucket, as well as running down my thighs and forming small puddles on the floor.
When he was through, a tall, muscular blonde stepped up and piss gushed from his dick, drenching my head. But, unlike his cohort, he continued aiming for my face as I twisted it from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid the assault, eliciting coarse laughter from the group. And, although a significant amount splashed onto the floor, enough was draining into the bucket to cause increasing traction and pain on my ballsack.
The next man was a thickly built, dark-eyed bull of a man. Without saying a word, he stood in front of me, groping at his fly until he hauled out his long, fat prick. Letting it hang directly over the bucket, and with his brown eyes fixed on mine, he reached up to pinch my nipples in each hand. I could hear his piss begin to splash and the weight of the bucket increase as he twisted my tits roughly between his fingers. My worthless attempts to avoid the pain only served to add torment to my nuts as the bucket jostled the rope. Finally, his urine slowed to a trickle and stopped. He released my nips and stepped back, still silent, and zipped up.
The last two moved up together, and I noticed that they must have been twins. Standing on either side of me, they brought out their cocks and began to piss into the already weighty bucket. As they did, they ran their hands over my pecs and ass, one of them shoving a finger up my fuckhole, eliciting a surprised gasp from my throat. This drew fresh laughter from the crowd which encouraged them to pinch and prod other areas of my body as the traction on my poor distended balls became nearly unbearable. Gradually the torrent of piss slowed from first one, then the other, and they joined their buddies while zipping up their uniforms with a smirk.
Dieter, who had been watching from the side, came forward again and raised the handle of the bucket, relieving the heavy tension from my scrotum. "Well," he grinned, "that's a load off, huh? I know I feel better."
"Go to hell, you demented scum." I tried to sound nonchalant as I prepared myself for the inevitable. I didn't have long to wait, and Dieter dropped the handle of the bucket which stopped short as it reached the end of the rope, yanking on my nuts. Foul smelling piss sloshed over the edges of the pail, splashing onto my already drenched legs and soaking into the floor.
Dieter's face was an inch from mine. "You stinking piece of meat," he rasped. "Did you dig getting your rocks off?"
"Yeah," I spat, grimacing from the pain in my groin, "you've got a really talented mouth there. You must get a lot of practice, huh?"
The gathered minions simultaneously let out a sarcastic moan at my feeble audacity. Dieter grinned and grabbed Old Snake in his fist. "I get enough," he whispered as he tapped lightly on my taut and aching balls with the fingers of his other hand. "I'll bet a fucking manly grunt like you has a lot of cum in these nuts, huh? Maybe we should see just how much you got." Slowly, his fist began riding up and down the shaft of my dick, causing it to harden in his grasp. Old Snake always did respond to a good hand job. Damn.
Dieter increased the tempo as my dick stiffened. The rocking motion of his pistoning fist caused the bucket to sway painfully between my legs, but Old Snake just got harder still. I could feel the familiar churning in my aching nuts as the Dieter's hand moved faster. I tensed in the tight bonds at my wrists, arching my back as a moan crawled from my chest. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and a thick spurt of cum arched from my dick to strike one of the surprised henchmen in the chest. The others laughed at their hapless comrade as my manseed shot in weaker and weaker eruptions from my cock.
Dieter dropped my dick and brought his hand up to my mouth. "You got your fuckin' spunk all over my hand, asshole. Lick it clean." So saying, he pressed his palm to my mouth, rubbing it forcefully over my lips and nose. "Meanwhile, I'm sure you got some more juice we could squeeze, doncha?" Wiping the remainder of the muck over my face, Dieter turned to the man with the soiled uniform. "Harper, you seem to be familiar with this fucker's cum. Let's see if you can get him to give up some more.
Wiping at the semen seeping into his uniform tunic, the henchman strode forward with a mixture of ire and vengeance swirling behind his smoky eyes. He stared at me as his callused fist encircled Old Snake. His grip tightened to the point of pain before beginning to stroke the semi turgid shaft. With his other hand, he tapped sharply at my testicles stretched tight at the end of the rope.
Again, Old Snake had a mind of his own and responded to the manipulations by stiffening with blood. The man had a skilled hand and alternated a series of twisting and oscillating motions to best maximize the sensation on my already tenderized meat. Then, switching hands, he continued to work my dick with his right, as his left thumb worked past my asshole and into my guts. He loosed the sphincter muscle at my ass and slipped in his index and middle finger, pressing on my prostate and causing Old Snake to jump. This brought a sneer to the corners of his mouth, his eyes knowing and cold. He fingered my butthole roughly and massaged my fuckpole with expertise. For the fourth time this afternoon, my balls were ready to give up their contents. A split second before I shot, Harper felt the distention in my cock and brought his left hand from my ass to catch the thin, milky cum in his palm.
His firm stroking continued until there was no more to give, my sore flesh raw from the constant friction. Finally, he stopped and I slumped in the bonds, my head lolling and my mouth agape. Taking advantage of the situation, he slapped his jism laden hand to my lips, the tang of my own juice salty on my tongue. He pinched my nose shut, forcing me to swallow the slimy liquid in order to breathe.
As he wiped his hands dry on my chest hair, another man took his place and fisted Old Snake. One by one, they each took a turn until my manhood was raw and red. A normally erotic and highly pleasurable sensation was replaced with agony. By the time the last man came up to bat, my galled cock was exquisitely painful. Moans crept unbidden from my throat as he encircled the abraded shaft and pumped his fist. After what seemed to be hours of torture, my emptied balls had nothing left to give. A scant amount of clear fluid mixed with a tinge of blood was all Old Snake could muster.
My mind tried to escape the realities of the torture, but the sound of Dieter's voice brought me back to the dingy cellblock. The piss-heavy bucket was removed from my ballsack, and I was being released from the straps binding me to the wooden cross. I sagged in the support of two of the men as they laid me on my back on the cool concrete floor. Looking up, I saw that the others were again opening their pants and bringing out their cocks, all of which seemed unnaturally large from my perspective on the ground. Two of the men pinned my shoulders to the ground while two more raised my legs, spreading my feet apart. It was then that I realized my abuse was not yet over. Dieter positioned himself at my head as another man stepped between my splayed thighs, both stroking their throbbing cocks. The sixth man held my head in place, pressing his thumbs into my jaw and forcing my mouth open. As Dieter used my mouth, the other man shoved his ramrod into my ass. I was being split at both ends, gagging as Dieter's hefty dick prodded the back of my throat.
Just before cumming, they pulled out and shot their wads onto my naked torso. Then, rotating positions, each man took his turn utilizing my abused and aching body as the others held me in place. And each time, they would pull out just before climax in order to add their semen to their cohorts', an ultimate form of degradation and humiliation.
When they were through, Dieter grinned down at my sprawled form on the hard concrete, buckling his belt and arranging his shirt. "Maybe you'll think twice where you dump your cum from now on, huh, asswipe?" Then, hefting the piss filled bucket, he upturned it over my cum soaked body, the gritty sand getting in my mouth as I sputtered to keep out the acrid liquid. "Now haul your worthless fucking ass into that cell."
Dazed, I turned over onto all fours as Dieter's foot found its mark between my asscheeks, catching my already tormented ballsack. I yelped in pain to the amusement of the men, and half walked, half crawled to the open cell door. One more kick from Dieter's heavy jack boot and I was propelled awkwardly on my face into the waiting cell.
The six henchmen were already exiting the room through the heavy wooden doorway as Dieter swung my cell door shut with a grating screech and locked it, a sneer spread wide across his neanderthal features. With a snort of contempt, he turned and followed his underlings from the room, leaving me alone, battered and broken.
I sat on the cold, hard concrete floor, my mind numb. The odor of the piss, now drying on my body, was heavy in my nostrils. Small patches of cum that the piss hadn't washed off caked on my chest and abs, cracking and pulling with each movement. Looking down at the bruised and abraded Old Snake, I slowly shook my head, wondering if I had made the right decision. Grasping the chrome cockring between my right thumb and index finger, I gingerly lifted my dick for inspection. The mere touch sent fingers of pain stabbing through the raw shaft. "Sorry, old buddy," I mumbled, knowing that Peck and Dieter were capable of still far more torment.
Shit. Maybe if I had accepted Peck's offer, I would have some room to maneuver, find some way to get my men out of this. "Yeah," I mumbled, "and if pigs could fly..."
A sudden noise came from the antechamber of the cellblock. I dropped my cock and stood, grasping the bars at the front of the cell. A moment later the heavy wooden door swung open and the prisoners filed through, followed by a contingent of the black clad guards prodding and pushing them forward. A few shot surreptitious glances at me as they passed by, their nostrils flaring at the stench coming from my direction.
L.T. was the last in line, his cockmeat swinging heavily between his thighs as he strode past me and into the cell adjacent to mine. The guards followed the naked men to the cells, shoving them in, and swinging the doors shut with loud clangs that resonated through the chamber.
As the black clad flunkies left the cellblock I realized that, while previously all the cells were occupied even to the point of L.T. and I sharing one, now there were two left vacant. I turned to the lieutenant to find him staring at me with concern. "You look like hell," he said with a hint of a smile.
"Yeah," I began, attempting to return the smile, "I feel like crap and smell like piss. I've had better days."
His smile faded as I nodded my head toward the empty cages. "What's happened?"
L.T.'s eyes followed mine to the vacant cells, then looked back to me. "Seems Peck's filled a few more orders." His voice was low, steady, but I sensed a seething emotion just below the surface. "A truck was being loaded with three large wooden crates in front of the main house as we were being led back here. There were holes lining the sides of each box...air holes, most likely. I can only put two and two together."
I felt a sudden pang of dread and quickly scanned the cells for the men of my squad, relieved to see the other four men accounted for. L.T. caught my reaction, nodding his head slightly. "We're all here. I reckon we're too new to make the advertisements."
My memory flashed back to Peck's comment about selling L.T. as a cum factory to the demented old man who had eaten the severed balls of his last purchase. I glanced down at my CO's impressive manhood and my stomach twisted into knots of dread.
"Lieutenant," I began, trying to maintain an air of composure, "things aren't looking all that great. I never expected the mission to end like this, and, well..." I cleared my throat and stared at the ground between my feet. I never was very good at expressing my feelings. "Well, I just wanted you to know that I considered it an honor to serve under you."
L.T. came to the partition dividing our cells, hands on the bars and feet planted wide. His hefty horse dick hung thickly between his solid thighs. "Listen, Sarge. First off, this isn't the end of the mission." His voice was firm, reassuring. "Second, things may not be quite as bad as they might appear on the surface." He smiled and added our unit catch phrase: "We ain't dead yet."
I managed a weak grin of my own as he reached through the bars and placed a large hand on my shoulder. "And third, I've got a feeling you'll be serving under me for quite a while to come."
The power of his hand resting on my shoulder gave me strength. And, was I imagining it, or was there a double meaning in his last sentence? I looked into his face, his eyes sparkling, his bruised lips curled into a crooked grin. "You'll see," he said.
A question formed on my lips, but before I was able to voice it, the heavy wooden door swung open, and several of the black uniformed flunkies entered with what was to be our dinner.
Stopping in front of each cell, one shoved a small bowl through the bars as another ladled some amorphous slop from a kettle. I took the bowl to the back of the cell; then, sticking my fingers into the gruel, brought them to my mouth. It may have been tasteless and bland, but my empty stomach didn't care. I finished it off as the goon squad left the cellblock. L.T. sat beside me on the other side of the bars, and I could feel his eyes watching me. I looked over to see the lopsided smile back on his face. "Beats eating your own cooking, huh?" He grinned, passing his portion through the bars. "You might as well eat mine, too. I don't have the stomach for it."
I hesitated, although my hunger was hardly abated. "Go on," L.T. held the bowl out, "you missed the great lunch we had when Peck took you to the house. Take it."
Accepting the additional food, I studied the lieutenant's face as I ate. "You know why he took me there, don't you?" I asked.
L.T. nodded his head slightly in the affirmative. "Probably to offer you the same deal he proposed to me the first night." He absently reached up and fingered the bruises at his lips. "He doesn't like to be told no, does he?"
I shook my head, "No, he sure as shit doesn't." My face screwed up in a questioning expression. "Why'd he do it, Lieutenant? Why would he ask us to join him in his depravity?"
L.T. shrugged his massive shoulders. "Same old story, I reckon. Divide and conquer. Or maybe he really believed he could convince us. He does have a persuasive manner."
I felt a pang of guilt thinking that I had actually considered the offer. "Yeah," I answered, "he sure does." I set the empty bowls to the side. I felt a bit less pessimistic with some food in my belly. I cleared my throat, my lips slightly pursed, "About what you said earlier. We really have a chance?"
"There's always a chance, Sarge. The important thing is to never give up. You and I have a lot of unfinished business to take care of." Again, I couldn't help but think there was an ambiguous significance behind his words.
Suddenly the lights went out and the cellblock was cloaked in darkness. L.T.'s voice was a source of inspiration and comfort in the gloom, "Now, let's get some sleep. We've got a busy day ahead."
"Yessir," I replied, sliding down to a lying position on the floor, the dried cum pulling the hairs of my chest and belly as I moved. "Thank you, sir."
"For what?" he whispered, as I heard him shuffling into a more comfortable position.
"For everything," I answered.
Sleep was elusive and fleeting. The odor of urine and cum was still pervasive, and my cock and balls were throbbing from the maltreatment of the afternoon. The rare times that I did doze were haunted by nightmares of my men in torment and agony, or the recurrent hellish vision of L.T.'s blood smeared face chewing on his own severed testicles as he sawed at his monstrously oversized dick with a dull edged butterknife.
Each time I awoke in a hazy, irrational panic, searching in the pallid light to find the lieutenant lying quietly in the adjoining cell, his manhood intact, his hairy chest rising and falling with the slow respirations of slumber.
For what seemed the hundredth time, I settled back down, taking care not to put pressure on my swollen, aching nuts. I was afraid to close my eyes, dreading the specter of my CO with trickles of crimson down his chin.
Eventually I did drift off, only to be jolted awake by a sharp, metallic clanging. I sat with a start, sending bolts of nauseating pain into my guts as I caught my battered, bloated balls between my thighs. I looked up to see Dieter dragging his nightstick over the bars of the cells, working his way down to the end of the row. "Get 'em up, assholes!" he bellowed, his usual morning routine. "It's oh six hundred! Rise and shine, fuckheads! Assume the position! Lets go, let's GO, LET'S GO!"
I stood gingerly as Old Snake flopped painfully over my nutsack, and in a repeat of yesterday, pressed my body to the front of the cell. Down the line, each man did the same, cock and balls extending through the bars.
When each captive was in place, Dieter started his stride up the row, tapping at an occasional set of balls with his nightstick or tweaking at a dickhead just to see what reaction he could elicit.
As he approached Johnson's cell he stopped, staring at the good-looking black man with a sneer. Reaching between the man's legs, he grabbed the dangling testicles. "No smart words today, dickhead?" Johnson, obviously remembering the previous lesson, swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his thick neck. "No, sir," he gasped, waiting for Dieter to clench his fist, crushing the large balls. Instead, Dieter opened his hand and hefted the man-eggs in his palm. "Don't matter," Dieter laughed as he dropped the nuts and grabbed Johnson's thick shaft, pulling forcibly toward him. He leaned his face to within inches of the marine's, and I watched as his sneer broadened and heard him whisper "today's the day." Then, swinging the nightstick into the man's vulnerable groin, he released the cockmeat as Johnson half sank to his knees, his white teeth gleaming in a silent grimace of pain.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the vision of torment, my stomach heaving in anger. I opened them again just as Dieter moved in front of L.T. and stared with a malicious grin. "How's it hangin', big man? Your ass twitching for another fucking yet? I hear all guys with big dicks just love to get fucked."
The corners of L.T.'s mouth curled upward slightly. "You must really hate it then, huh, tiny?"
I watched the smirk dissolve from Dieter's face as his eyes narrowed. He looked at the lieutenant for long moments before turning away to stand in front of me. I winced as he took my abraded cock in his fist. "You really should do something about that mouth on your fuckbuddy," he said, pulling on Old Snake. "I think he needs this stuck down his throat again," he began stroking my shaft, an action devoid of any pleasure as he opened the abrasions from yesterday's abuse. "Or maybe," he began, as he released my dick and painfully squeezed my swollen balls, "you should shove these in his mouth."
My face contorted from the pain as the clenching of his fist increased. Dieter's lip lifted in a sneer, baring his teeth. "Yeah, maybe you'd feel better if he kissed your nuts, huh?" Dieter's face was an inch from mine, his breath hot as he spoke.
He let loose of my nuts as he turned back to L.T. "Whattaya think, big man? You want to make your buddy feel better?" He took one of the control pads from his pocket as he spoke. "Face the side of the cell and kneel."
L.T. looked at the control in the sadist's hand and complied with the order, knowing that a refusal would lead to me being the one punished. Dieter's face broke into a wide grin. "You learn fast. Now press your head between the bars and stick out your fucking tongue."
My heart thudded in my chest with rage as Dieter looked back to me. "Get your ass over there," he said, nodding in the direction of L.T. who had dropped to his knees at the side of the cell.
I hesitated momentarily, and Dieter pressed a button on the keypad. I yelped as the electricity seared my groin, and Dieter roared, "I said MOVE!"
I shuffled over to the bars adjoining my cell with L.T.'s, and stood with legs spread, my balls dangling between my thighs.
"Now lick 'em," Dieter ordered, holding out the control box.
Closing my eyes, I whispered to L.T. "I'm sorry, sir," as I felt his warm, moist tongue begin to bathe my nutsack with a gentle lapping.
The gloating was obvious in Dieter's voice as he continued to harass, "Yeah, I thought that'd shut him up. Does a real good job, too, don't he?" I only half heard the words as the sensation of my hunky CO's tongue caused a stirring in Old Snake. "Damn," Dieter spat, "I may just hafta have him do mine next."
My dick began to lengthen as the tender ministrations of L.T.'s tongue persisted. "Oh, shit," I whispered barely aloud, my knees feeling weak as I got into the effect of a fantasy come true. I had often thought about sucking on the lieutenant's cock and balls, but hardly dared to consider reciprocation.
"Enough!" Dieter barked, jolting me back to reality. "Turn around, fuckhead." I did as ordered, futilely hoping that L.T. somehow didn't notice the growing hard on as I turned, my ass now in his face. "Now, bend over and grab your ankles." My asscheeks parted as I bent forward, exposing my puckered hole.
"Get your tongue in there," Dieter growled to the lieutenant, and I could feel the prodding at my asshole as he complied. I glanced over to the front of my cell. My face in this position was at the level of Dieter's crotch, and I watched him kneading at the large cylinder bulging at his left thigh, as he grunted, "yeah, clean him out good, asslicker. Stick that tongue up his hole."
The sensation of L.T.'s tongue licking and pushing at my asshole was driving me crazy. I found myself wishing for his big old marine prick instead. Old Snake was coming alive, breaking open dried abrasions from yesterday as he grew more and more erect. My nuts, though still sore, were churning as the lieutenant pressed his face to my butthole, his rough growth of facial hair erotically abrading my asscheeks as he shoved his tongue further past the puckered sphincter. "Oh, shit!" I exhaled, overcome by the feel of my CO's tongue up my chute.
My balls pulled up tight in their sack, and even without touching my dick, I was on the verge of. . .
"Enough!" Dieter barked. "We don't have time to play around all morning. Get back in position, fuckheads!"
"Uhhh," I moaned in frustration, deprived of the imminent release that the lieutenant's tongue had promised.
L.T. and I took our places at the front of our cells. Old Snake, to my great humiliation, protruded through in plain view, now fully erect and oozing clear precum. Dieter circled his hand around my shaft, rubbing his thumb over the seeping piss slit. "Enjoyed that, did ya?" He grinned, pulling forcibly on my dick and leaning his face close to mine between the bars. "Get it while ya can, asswipe."
With a final sharp tug on Old Snake, Dieter went to the large wooden door of the cellblock and opened it. A contingent of the black uniforms waiting in the antechamber entered, and just like before, came to the cells to escort us out. They started at the far end of the block, so that mine was the last cell opened. I watched as the other men were ushered past my cell on their way out, their eyes surreptitiously glancing at my seeping hard on. L.T. was the last before me. I caught his eyes as he went by, attempting to nonverbally communicate my apologies for what had occurred. I was astonished to see a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth and a quick wink before my cell was also opened and I followed. What the hell was that? It could have been meant as a simple reassurance. But, again, I sensed something more.
We were again escorted to the area behind the large building housing our cells where we were placed at attention and permitted to relieve ourselves. When we had finished Dieter apparently had himself another victim, and I turned my head slightly to see him approach the center of the line as he opened the fly of his uniform pants. "Ah, a new throat for my piss today," he laughed, and I was dismayed to see he was addressing Ski. "In the dirt and open your mouth, fuckhead," he growled, hauling out his fat cock as Ski sank to his knees in the piss soaked mud.
I watched in disgust as Ski did his best to keep up with the yellow stream which, nonetheless, ran down his hairy chest and belly to mingle with the mud between his knees. As he gagged and sputtered, the flow slowed, then ceased. Dieter, holding his fat cock like a club, used it to beat Ski across the face, shaking out the last of the piss. Then, releasing his prick, Dieter shoved the hairy pollack's forehead, forcing Ski to sprawl backward into the dirt. Laughing heartily, Dieter replaced his meat in his pants and rearranged his uniform as his boot prodded at the humiliated Marine's balls. "Back on yer feet, dickhead."
Ski pushed himself up, his hands balled into fists as he stood at attention, his dark eyes blazing. The urine-soaked fur matted his chest, highlighting the definition of his pecs.
"Something on yer mind, asswipe?" Dieter laughed, grabbing Ski's cock and balls.
"No, sir," Ski croaked, his face twisting into a grimace of pain as Dieter closed his fist and twisted.
"Didn't think so," Dieter grinned, wiping his hand on Ski's hairy chest.
Turning and walking away, Dieter nodded to the goon holding the firehose, and our morning cleansing began. Though the water was frigid, I was glad to finally be cleansed of the cum and piss from last night.
After the hose was shut off, we stood drip drying in the warming morning sun as one of the black uniformed goons came from the main house and whispered something to Dieter, then looked over at Johnson toward the end of the line.
Dieter strutted over to the muscular black man, grabbing his egg sized balls. "Won't be needing these anymore," he grinned, "you've just been sold."
Fear pulled at Johnson's handsome face as Dieter leaned close. "You're gonna make a fine eunuch slaveboy."
Panic surged through the black man's body, and he pulled away from the taunting Dieter, yanking his nuts painfully from the big man's grasp. He half turned to run before the cockring sent its bolt of electricity into his groin. Letting out a wild scream, Johnson fell writhing in the mud, hands covering his groin, and curled up in a fetal position.
L.T. sprang from his place in line, headed toward Dieter. Suddenly I was thrown to my knees as my own cockring fired to life. Looking up, I saw that the lieutenant had stopped in his tracks, his jaw hanging open in surprise. All of us had simultaneously felt the searing agony of the control rings, and the entire line of men slumped in the mud clutching at their genitals.
Dieter was holding the control box in his hand, glaring at the dismayed lieutenant. "Don't be stupid, big man."
Knowing that any further action would only cause more suffering for us, L.T. slowly rejoined the line of men who were staggering back to their feet.
With a sneer, Dieter turned to several of his henchmen and nodded to Johnson, still lying on the ground. The goons moved forward and grabbed the frightened black grunt under the arms, pulling him to his feet.
Dieter's sneer curled into a malicious snarl as Johnson's terrified eyes met his own. "Take him to the clinic for preparation."
Horrified, Johnson's eyes went wide as he fought to break the relentless grip on his arms. Briefly, he looked at me, a wild expression of fear and pleading, before they began to half drag, half carry him away screaming in piercing protest.
His howls were muffled by the heartbeat pounding in my ears and I watched, helpless, as they took him away. I looked down the line of men, all standing aghast in utter silence. Even L.T. was visibly shaken by the events. Slavery was bad enough, but mutilation of one of his men was apparently something he hadn't counted on.
"You fuckin' freak." I hardly recognized the lieutenant's voice as he growled at the grinning man mountain in front of him, his fists opening and closing in frustrated rage. "Let him go. Take me instead."
Dieter's brows knit together in mock concern. "Well, now, that just wouldn't do." He shook his head thoughtfully. "You see, the order calls for a specific color." Then, taking the lieutenant's cock in a hamlike fist, brought chuckles and snorts of laughter from his cohorts as he added, "and you're certainly the wrong size".
"Besides," Dieter sneered, stroking the lieutenant's hefty cockmeat, "Mr. Peck's already got a buyer for you." Dieter's sneer widened as L.T. pulled back to avoid the pistoning grip. "You'd better get used to hand jobs, big man. Your new owner's gonna rub you raw." He hefted the weighty nuts in his other hand. "And I'm sure these babies will more than supply all the cum he's after."
I felt like puking, my guts tied into knots. I knew exactly what Dieter was referring to. Peck was going to sell L.T. to replace the stud who had killed himself in order to end his abuse. The lieutenant was to serve as the old bastard's new milk stud, producing semen for the sick fucker's daily consumption.
"But, I'll tell ya what," Dieter released L.T. and stepped back. "I realize how much your men mean to you. I'm going to give you the opportunity to take care of your grunt one last time before we relieve him of his balls." He turned and nodded to several of the men who then came over to seize L.T. by the arms and led him away to follow Johnson.
I watched the lieutenant's back, his ass cheeks firm and rippling as he strode away between the two goons. A shadow moved into the corner of my vision, and I turned to see Dieter standing in front of me, that shit eating grin spread across his neanderthal mug.
"Well, now," he chuckled, "you didn't really think I'd leave you out of the party, did you?" His grin melted as he pulled out the control unit from his pocket, then nodded his head in the direction of my two comrades. With a sigh, I took the same path, as Dieter followed at my heels, leaving the rest of the captives behind to be divided up into the daily work groups.