I entered a large, white room which I recognized as the clinic that Ski had described, where the men were given their cockrings. Dieter followed and closed the door behind him, still holding the control box in his ham like fist.
Johnson, by this time, had been strapped in place on his back, his legs spread wide and secured to extensions at the foot of the large examination table, leaving his manhood dangling and freely accessible. Adhesive tape covered his mouth, muffling the terrified cries as, alternately, his cheeks puffed out and his nostrils flared with each breath. His wide eyes darted wildly around the room, searching madly for an escape and finding none.
L.T. stood to the side of the table, an unreadable expression on his face, staring behind me and to my left. I turned to see what he was looking at, and found one of the guards in the corner of the room, holding a 9 mm semi-automatic aimed at the lieutenant's head.
"Welcome," Peck's voice brought my attention around, back to the large examination table. "So glad you could join us," he mocked.
Dieter shoved me roughly, and I stumbled forward, almost losing my balance as Peck continued. "I'd like you to meet Dr. Matheson." For the first time I noticed the older man on the far side of the table wearing a lab coat and rubber gloves. Thick glasses magnified his eyes as he blinked at me and nodded his head. "Actually," Peck went on, "Dr. Matheson is a veterinarian by trade, taking care of the animals on my farm. However, he does serve quite useful when it comes to gelding humans as well." Peck let out a sharp, barking laugh and the doctor looked over at him, the corners of his mouth curling slightly into an anemic grin.
I caught L.T.'s jaw clench as his eyes flicked over to the 9 mm still levelled at his head. "And," Peck continued, "he also developed the hibernation serum that allows shipment of my merchandise without a lot of hubbub." He casually cocked his head to a small stand in the corner of the room. A single vial of yellowish liquid stood in the center, flanked by several syringes and needles. Next to the stand were two large, wooden shipping crates, and I remembered Dieter's statement about a buyer for L.T. as well as Johnson. I noticed the padding inside, almost coffin like, but there were also air holes drilled at regular intervals along the sides. The lids, which lay askew beside them, had shipping labels already secured.
Peck stood at Johnson's head, patting the naked black man on the cheek. "But first, we're going to have some fun. A quick shave and we'll let him use those balls one last time. Now, then, Lieutenant, your man needs to be prepped, if you would be so kind." He nodded to the shaving cream and straight razor among the other instruments next to the exam table.
With one quick glance at the weapon pointed at his skull, L.T. picked up the can of shave cream, filling his palm with the lather. Lifting the black man's heavy cock out of the way with his other hand, he spread the foam over the large, dangling nutsack, and around the base of the thick shaft, into the wiry pubic hairs.
The white of Johnson's eyes stood out in stark contrast to the dark skin of his face as he watched L.T., muffled protests barely escaping the tape covering his mouth. L.T.'s brows knit together in concern or concentration, and I could see the muscles at his temples contract as he clenched his jaw. Then, taking the straight razor in hand, L.T. began shaving away the curly black hairs of Johnson's pubes.
After shearing the wiry pubic fur, L.T. took Johnson's thick, black dick in his fist and lifted it away from the dangling balls which retreated upward in their nutsack. With utmost care, the lieutenant completed the denuding of the black man's groin and set the straight razor back on the stand beside the exam table. Glancing once at the guard in the corner still leveling the weapon at his head, L.T. turned to Peck with a snarl of disgust curling at his lips. "Your time's at hand, asshole. You won't get away with this."
Peck stepped up to the table to take Private Johnson's pendulous balls in his fist, rubbing the palm of his other hand over the smooth pubic skin. "Thank you for that editorial, Lieutenant," he winked, "but, really, I think I will."
He hefted the black nuts in one hand while sliding his other hand from the pubic area onto the hefty prick. Gripping it firmly, he began to slowly stroke the shaft, watching the black man's face closely. "What do you say, private? You ready to drain these one last time?"
Johnson shook his head furiously from side to side, indiscernible protests stifled behind the tape occluding his mouth. I watched the sadistic grin spread across Peck's face as the swarthy cock thickened in his fist. "Well, your head says no, but your prick says yes. Looks to me like you're overruled."
L.T.'s jaw was clenched, the muscles and veins prominent at his temples. "Leave...him...alone!" The words came deep and clipped, his hands balled into futile fists of rage. I shot a glimpse to my left to see the guard still holding the muzzle of the 9mm at L.T.'s head, then looked back to Peck, a smug expression on his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Peck grinned, "of course, you'd rather take care of him yourself, isn't that right?"
Lieutenant Brown stood silent, fury tightening every muscle in his magnificent body.
Peck's eyes narrowed, the smile fading from his lips. "I SAID, 'isn't that right?'", he demanded, then nodded to Dieter standing behind me.
Suddenly, the cockring in my groin fired to life, and I sank to my knees in agony. When my vision cleared, I looked up to see a broad grin on Dieter's face. Then, turning my attention back to the table, I saw Peck wagging Johnson's thick, semi turgid shaft in his fist as he addressed Lieutenant Brown. "Here it is, cocksucker. Just waiting for your hot mouth and tongue."
Johnson's wide, frantic eyes darted from Peck to L.T., while the two men locked stares.
"It really makes no difference to me," Peck shrugged, "I'll cut his balls off fully loaded or drained. Now, are you going to suck him off, or do we just castrate him here and now?"
Johnson's face was contorted in fear, his eyes begging for help as a small tear rolled from the corner and into his left ear. L.T. saw it, then looked over at the 9mm levelled at his head, then at Dieter behind me, and finally at me before turning back to the helpless, naked marine strapped to the table. I watched in anguish as the macho stud C. O. bent slowly and took the stout black dickhead between his lips.
Dieter grabbed the hair on my head, pulling me to a standing position, and brought his face inches from mine. "Bet you wish you could play, too, huh?" The sneer spread across his face. Then, shoving me roughly toward the table, commanded, "Get your fucking face down there in your CO's asshole, dickwipe. Get it nice and slick. He'll thank you for it later."
I knelt behind the lieutenant, who was bent at the waist as he sucked on Johnson's meat. My heart was racing in my chest as I spread his firm, round asscheeks to reveal the pink, puckered hole. If they thought this was going to humiliate me, they were fucking way off base. I had fantasized about sticking my tongue up this hole a long time, and now they were affording me the opportunity to make it come true. I stuck out my tongue and licked gently at the sphincter, causing it to twitch in response. The man-musk taste of L.T.'s hot hole was intoxicating, and Old Snake sprang up in acknowledgement.
Peck came around the table to tap at Old Snake with the toe of his boot. "Well, now. Looks like the sergeant enjoys his work, Lieutenant." He put his hand on the back of L.T.'s head and pushed, shoving the big black shaft further down his throat, causing the macho marine officer to gag. "You ready to have him fuck you again? I'm sure, since you're conscious, you'll enjoy it much more this time." Peck let out a rumbling laugh, and I felt a hand pulling me to a standing position by the hair on my head. It was Dieter, and in his other hand, he held the goddamned control box at the ready.
Peck gripped Old Snake in his fist and gave it a few strokes, while smearing the clear precum over the head with his thumb. "It would seem the sergeant is ready," he said stroking my cock a couple more times for emphasis. "He's hard as a rock." Then, slicking up my cockhead with the slimy, seeping precum, he nodded to Dieter and stepped away.
Dieter held out the controller, a wicked sneer cracking across his face as he nodded to L.T.'s ass. "You've got it all lubed up with your spit, asswipe. Now you're gonna fuck it."
I gulped as I looked at L.T. bent over Johnson's crotch, exposing his puckered, wet hole. I looked at Peck, then at Dieter, his thumb poised over the buttons on the control pad. I realized there was no choice. But I also realized that this was something that I wasn't going to pass up. Shit, I should be THANKING these assholes.
I took the lieutenant's hips in my hands and guided Old Snake to the hot, waiting hole. "I'm sorry, sir," I mumbled, and slowly pressed forward. A muffled grunt came from L.T.'s mouth, still stuffed with Johnson's thick meat, as I shoved Old Snake to the hilt, my balls slapping against his.
Dieter moved his free hand to his crotch and massaged the cylindrical bulge. "Yeah, dickwad. Screw that officer's man-cunt. Come on, fuck him good." He ground his hips obscenely as he groped himself, watching my dick slide in and out of my CO's rounded, muscular ass.
"I hope you're enjoying this," Peck addressed Johnson, running the palm of his hand up the black marine's abs and chest. "Because as soon as you cum, your balls are mine." He punctuated the statement with a pinching twist of the man's nipple. "Doctor Matheson?" He nodded to the bespectacled old man in the lab coat who walked over to stand between Johnson's spread legs, and grabbed the nutsack in his left hand while light glinted off the blade of a scalpel in his right.
Johnson's eyes went even wider as he felt the hand on his nuts. Unintelligible noises came from his taped mouth, and he shook his head futilely from side to side, spraying hot sweat, as L.T.'s head continued to bob up and down. His balls retracted high up in the sack, and the slurping of the lieutenant's mouth grew louder as the cum fired into his throat, lubricating his lips sliding up and down on the erupting ebony shaft.
I could feel my own balls climbing higher, close to shooting their load. Real close, in spite of the fact that one of my men was about to lose his nuts as the scalpel was brought to position.
Suddenly, from out in the compound, came the sound of explosions and gunfire mingled with shouts of surprise. In the second it took to register, the door to the clinic crashed open, knocking the 9 mm from the hand of the startled guard behind it. I turned, my dick still planted firmly up L.T.'s chute, to see two figures clad in BDU's standing in the entry. In that moment, an abrupt crack accompanied a flash of light from the muzzle of an M-16, and the scalpel fell from the hand of the old man as he crumpled to the floor, a scarlet stain spreading on the white lab coat. A second round erupted, the sound deafening in the enclosed room, and the guard sprawled motionless in a rapidly growing pool of blood, his hand still reaching for the dropped weapon. Peck and Dieter, who were obviously as surprised as I, stood motionless, staring at the camouflaged men.
I was jolted from my momentary paralysis, and pulled back as L.T. stood upright, Old Snake slipping from his embracing ass with a loud slurping sound, still rigid and throbbing, precum dripping from the tip.
Lieutenant Brown, now disengaged from my cock, wiped Johnson's cum from his lips nonchalantly with the back of his hand and turned to face the two rescuers.
A broad smile spread across L.T.'s face as he sauntered over to the two men at the door. "Well, it's about fucking time. Damned zoomies . . . always a day late and a dollar short."
I noticed for the first time the Air Force commissioned insignia on the uniforms of the rescuers. Without taking his eyes from Peck and Dieter, the shorter, more muscular of the men spoke. "Sorry, Devildog. We stopped for coffee."
Two other men, enlisted grunts, appeared in the doorway behind the Air Force officers. L.T. stooped to retrieve the 9mm from under the lifeless fingertips of the guard. "You two men," he said, standing back up and nodding to the black man on the table, "take Johnson down to join the others. We'll take care of matters up here."
Johnson was released from the straps on the table and led feebly from the room, an arm slung around the shoulders of the grunts on either side. L.T. shut the door behind them as they left. He turned with a big grin as he saw the expression on my face. "Sarge, I want you to meet a couple friends of mine." He stood between the two men holding their M-16's on Peck and Dieter.
"The one with the smart mouth and the caffeine addiction is Bull," he nodded to the short muscle man to his left. "And this guy," he reached up and grabbed the back of the taller man's neck with his free hand, "is Wolf."
"Pleased ta meetcha," the one called Wolf growled, his eyes never leaving Peck and Dieter. "But, right now, it looks like we've got some business to finish."
I nodded absently in response. My brain was going a mile a minute, not quite able to comprehend what was happening. And I was somehow vaguely aware that both L.T. and I were standing here still buck assed naked in front of these men.
As if in confirmation, the lieutenant's manmeat swayed back and forth as he walked over to Dieter, the 9mm levelled at his head. "I'll take that, if you don't mind," he said, indicating the control box still gripped in a hamlike fist. Dieter's dark eyes glowed with malevolence as he handed over the vile unit. "That's a good boy," L.T. taunted, tossing the controller to me and grabbing the gorilla's crotch. "Looks like the balls are in MY court now, huh, jizzbag?" Dieter's face screwed up in silent pain as the lieutenant's fingers closed around the trapped nutsack.
"Ya see, Sarge," L.T. drawled over his shoulder, "we've known about Peck and this whole operation for quite a while now. A joint task force was convened after a couple of their stock escaped and returned to tell the brass at headquarters what was going down."
He released his grip on Dieter's basket and came over to slip a muscular arm around my shoulders. Old Snake, which had been jolted into submission by the entrance of the rescuers, started to harden again at the feel of my CO's body next to mine, but this time no one seemed to notice or to care. "Since Peck's operation seemed to focus mainly on Marines," he continued, "I was tasked with coming up with a team to serve as bait. Reluctantly, I had to choose a group of men that I thought would appeal to his tastes. I was concerned that if he didn't find them suitable, he'd just kill them on the spot. After narrowing down a list of physical candidates, I had to decide which ones had the psychological profile to get through the ordeal. We pretty much knew what to expect from the debrief of the escaped marines. That was the tough part." Then, glancing over at the empty straps dangling loosely from the exam table, added quietly, "But, castration was never supposed to be part of the deal."
He paused a moment, regrouping his thoughts. "I had a radio transponder drilled into one of my molars, and Air Force Special Ops was to work the triangulation and transport." The one called Wolf cast a brief glimpse at L.T., the corners of his mouth raised in a smile, and shrugged.
I looked at the control box in my hand, its rows of buttons like multiple eyes staring back at me. Shit! This was a lot to digest in one gulp, now wasn't it? So, I was picked because the lieutenant thought I had the look? That was a good sign, I reckon. But, still, that nagging little voice in the back of my brain told me there was something more. I glanced at the two zoomies, their attention focused on the prisoners. Turning to the lieutenant, I finally spoke the question that needed to be asked. "You know, don't you? About me, I mean?"
L.T.'s grin returned to his handsome, square jawed face. "I had hoped. I thought you were hot the first time I laid eyes on you. I've noticed the way you watched me, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to find out once and for all."
The mixture of emotions was setting my brain to overload. Well, damn! I could think of a shitload of better ways. But, I was enjoying the sensation of the lieutenant's hard, sinewy body next to me. And now it was out in the open - we were joint members in the two man Mutual Admiration Society. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you let me know?"
He flexed the beefy arm slung heavily around my neck, pulling me closer in casual camaraderie. "Don't ask, don't tell, Sarge." He laughed, a deep chested, hearty resonance that sounded good to my ears. Then, giving my neck a couple more playful tugs, he unwrapped his arm from my shoulders. "But, right now, we've got some cleaning up to do."
He turned to the men holding the M-16s. "What do ya say, Wolf? Wanna have some fun?"
A wicked smile curled at the corners of the Zoomie's mouth, as the one called Bull licked his lips. "Hey," Wolf said, "Bull and I, we're ALWAYS ready to play."
L.T. laughed again. "Don't I know it!" he shook his head. "Don't I know it."
Then, directing his attention to Peck, the amusement left his face. "What you're going to do, is strip your buddy there." He nodded his head to Dieter. Peck hesitated and started to speak, but L.T. cut him off, bringing the 9mm up to his head.
"If you think I won't splatter your goddamned brains all over this fucking room, you're wrong. I don't need much more incentive beyond what you've done to my brother marines."
Peck glared at the Lieutenant, who stood without qualm, bare assed naked, his monster meat hanging heavy between his rock like thighs. Resignedly, he turned to the hulking man in black beside him and began unbuttoning his shirt.
As he finished the last button, the uniform gaped open, revealing Dieter's hair covered chest and abs. He reached for the web belt before being stopped by L.T.'s deep voice. "Hold it, asshole." Peck turned with a questioning look, and now it was L.T.'s turn to do the sneering. "Well, he's YOUR buddy. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you let him know how much you admired his body."
Dieter's eyes looked from the naked lieutenant to Peck standing before him, and I thought I detected a hint of a twinkle in his eyes. He then threw his head back, a low growl crawling out his throat, as Peck bent and took one of the man's tits in his mouth and began to bite and suck. As he nursed on Dieter's hairy chest, Peck brought his hands up under the shirt and slid it off the big ape's shoulders, letting it fall.
Watching this, from a perspective devoid of previous intimidation, I was able to appreciate the eroticism of Dieter's hulking form. The narrow, rippled waist was accentuated by the fur that covered its corrugated surface, and continued up to the rounded, twin slopes of his pecs. One of the tits was dark and matted by Peck's saliva, its nub standing hard, proud and red from the forest of fur. Dieter's cannon ball biceps bulged as he gripped the back of Peck's head, grinding his face into the massive chest.
Old Snake wasn't missing any of this and began creeping slowly down my thigh. I cast a quick glance at the two zoomies and realized I wasn't the only one being affected by the spectacle of the boss man's abasement. The buttons of their BDU pants strained to contain their contents as the bulges grew behind them.
L.T.'s voice brought my attention back to the show in the center of the room. "Okay, fuckhead, on your knees and move on." The 9mm was still aimed at Peck's head, although he couldn't have known it with his face buried in the deep carpet of Dieter's abs. Going to his knees, Peck reached out and unfastened the web belt and opened the buttons on his cohort's black uniform pants.
As I had grown to expect, Dieter wore no underwear, and his considerable cock lay half exposed and throbbing in its damp, dark nest of pubic hair at the "V" of his gaping fly. The veins on his massive arms writhed as he maintained his grip on the back of his employer's head, pulling it into the funk of sweat and manjuice.
My attention was completely focused on Peck's tongue, barely visible from this angle, as it slid under the pulsing cock, lifting it from its confinement of the pants. I started as I felt a firm, warm grip gently envelop Old Snake, and found L.T.'s fist around my fully engorged dick. He had a wide grin on his face, his eyes bright and deep. He laughed when he saw my bewildered expression as I looked over at the Air Force officers.
"Don't worry about Bull and Wolf, Sarge," he chuckled. "They're with us." I watched as they groped at their protruding crotches, still holding their weapons on the slave traders.
"That's affirmative," Bull said. "Wolf and I have slapped the monkey a few times together." Slinging the strap of the M-16 over his shoulder, he reached over and hefted the taller man's groin. "Right, buddy?"
Wolf glanced over at his muscular partner, with a look of amused derision. "Yeah. And Carl Sagan always talks about 'a few' stars in the sky." Then, casting a look at L.T. and me, added, in a poor imitation of the famous astronomer, "More like 'billions and billions'."
I laughed in spite of the whole situation and found myself liking these two guys from a sister service.
By this time, Peck had extricated Dieter's rampant cock and had it leaking precum on his cheek as he chewed on the man's nuts. I wondered whether this was, indeed, a first for the demented sonuvabitch.
L.T., with one hand still wrapped around Old Snake, held the 9mm at Dieter's head. "Now, bend over that table. Show us your fuck hole."
Dieter extricated his family jewels from Peck's slobbering mouth, and shuffled over to the exam table, his pants around his ankles. Then, bending forward, he grabbed the sides. His ass cheeks parted to expose a pink, puckered ring of muscle surrounded by sweat-matted hair, twitching at the unaccustomed coolness of the air.
L.T. raised his eyebrows and waved the automatic weapon at Peck. "You know what to do," he said, nodding his head toward the asshole at the table. Peck's face was contorted in anger, his own saliva mixed with Dieter's precum was smeared around his mouth and nose, catching glints of light.
"Peck there is quite a man," L.T. went on, addressing the room in general, as the object of discussion planted his face between the globes of Dieter's butt. "Seems he's been wanted by Military Justice for a long time. Went AWOL after forcing himself on another grunt at knife point while on guard duty one night."
Surprised, I turned to L.T. "He told me he was discharged after that incident."
The lieutenant laughed abruptly. "Well, he discharged his BALLS into the poor jarhead's throat; but he's still officially active duty, at least as far as the Corps is concerned. And, as such, is facing a military court martial."
A rueful grin spread slowly over L.T.'s face. "Can't say as I envy him his future in a brig full of Marine guards and inmates once the story gets around about his recent activities." Peck's back stiffened as he listened, his face still buried in Dieter's ass. "And," L.T. went on, "the story WILL get around. I'll make sure of it."
L.T. released his hold on Snake and walked over to the exam table, taking hold of the hair of Peck's head, and pulling him back from the cleft of Dieter's cheeks. "Strip," he commanded simply.
I don't think I imagined the hint of fear in Peck's gray eyes. Fuck if I would want to have his fate awaiting me in the brig. With an almost imperceptible tremor, he stripped as we watched. He was a handsome man; and at forty plus years, he still had a helluva impressive physique. Yeah, he'd go over real big in jail, I thought.
Wolf cocked his head, listening. "I hate to cut this short, but we'd better move things along here. We don't have a whole lotta time."
I was abruptly aware that the sporadic sound of gunfire from out in the compound had ceased. L.T. turned his attention from Wolf back to Dieter. "Here's your chance, ape man. Get your rocks off one last time before I send you on a little trip."
Dieter was standing in front of the table, his impressive cock half erect as it jutted from its hairy base, his balls suspended low in the nutsack beneath. He shot an unintentional questioning glance at L.T., whose grin widened in self-satisfied amusement.
"Well," the lieutenant said in answer, jutting his chin in the direction of the waiting shipping crates, "it'd be a shame to disappoint that old man who needs the cum, wouldn't it? Looks like you'll be taking my place on the invoice." Dieter's brows came together as he realized what L.T. had in mind for him.
"So," L.T. continued, "you just have your way with your friend there before we say bye-bye. Any way you want . . . joker's choice."
Dieter looked around the room, realizing there was nothing he could do. He turned to Peck standing naked in the center of the room. "Back on your knees," he ordered. "Get me hard."
Peck shot a venomous look at Dieter, who just tilted his head to the side slightly and shrugged. "Guess we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Dieter stated, then glanced at all the weaponry pointed in his direction. "But, either way, looks like we're gonna do it."
Putting a hand on each of Peck's shoulders, Dieter pushed him to his knees; then, sliding his hands behind Peck's head, rubbed his face into his crotch. Peck struggled, pushing uselessly at the man's thighs. His chest gasped for breath as his mouth and nose were crushed into Dieter's rapidly engorging manhood.
Using the kneeling man's ears as handles, Dieter slid his prick into the relenting mouth and began to piston the head on his stout fuckshaft. Peck's eyes bulged and his nostrils flared in a desperate attempt to take in air, and I felt a certain vindication as he experienced what he had subjected so many others to in the past.
"Okay, okay," L.T. said impatiently, "looks hard enough to me. Let's move it." He wagged the muzzle of the handgun, “It's now or never."
Dieter looked distractedly at L.T., then pulled Peck's head off his corpulent cock and dragged him to his feet. "Bend over and grab yer ankles," he husked, roughly spinning his naked ex-boss around.
Peck understood that the battle had been lost, and slowly bent forward, his ass held high as he supported himself with a hand on each ankle. Dieter lost no time in taking a hip in each hand and unceremoniously burying his dripping meat into the waiting mancunt.
Wolf licked his lips and absently readjusted the cylindrical mass in his groin. Bull, apparently less restrained, had opened the fly of his BDU's and was fisting his own meat in a slow, steady rhythm as Dieter's cock slid in and out.
Sweat matted the fur on the fucker's chest and abs as he increased the tempo, driving his prick to the hilt with a slapping sound, then pulling back and ramming again. Small grunts wheezed from Peck's throat in time with the forward thrusts, as his cock flopped erratically back and forth. Even in this condition, maybe BECAUSE of this condition, I found Peck to be erotically appealing.
Suddenly, Dieter's head was thrown silently back, his eyes squeezed shut. His nuts pulled high in their sack and the pistoning slowed to hard, deliberate plunges as he fired his load to the accompaniment of staccato, guttural rumbles.
"Very nice," L.T. commended, as Dieter, having blown his wad, withdrew his softening cock. A thin trail of cum trickled down Peck's left thigh as he staggered to a standing position. L.T. smiled as Peck turned to face him. "Hope you enjoyed that. Just a small taste of what's in store for you in the brig."
Peck's mouth turned up in a snarl, laser beams of hate emitting from his eyes. L.T. ignored it, unimpressed, and turned to Dieter. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to climb up on that table, there, we'll get this mission squared away."
I could almost hear the thoughts spinning in the big ape's head, trying to figure a way to escape as he cast his eyes around the room, from L.T.'s 9mm to the M-16's in the hands of the zoomies. Then, finally, looking down at the bunched trousers still around his ankles, realized there WAS no escape, and mounted the exam table.
L.T. stepped up to one side and motioned Peck to the other side with the weapon in his hand. Dieter's heartbeat pulsed in the thick carotids of his neck, and his burly chest rose and fell in rapid succession. The lieutenant encircled the man's shaft in a fist, lifting it up, away from the balls.
"I think your buyer'll be pleased," L.T. wagged the hooded cockmeat in his fist. "Not as big as mine, but, well, that's okay." He then addressed Peck as he dropped the prick, letting it fall heavily onto Dieter's abdomen. "Get him ready," he said, cocking his head to the bottle of yellowish fluid.
Peck's hands shook noticeably as he drew up the serum into a syringe; then, swabbing an alcohol pad over the hairy man's muscular arm, jabbed the needle in and pushed the plunger.
Dieter's eyes went wide, staring at L.T. standing over him at the side of the table. "I'm not finished with you yet." The lids began to flutter, and his focus wavered. "Watch for me. I'll be back."
L.T. grinned and patted the man's unshaven cheek. "Can't wait," he said. But Dieter didn't hear him. He was already out.
"Now then," L.T.'s grin turned malevolent as he looked at Peck. "Now that the shoe is on the other foot, as it were, we're going to give you a little more practice."
Peck was forced to crawl over to Bull, whose cock still stood proudly out of the fly of his BDU's, and take the zoomie's ramrod down his throat.
"Oh, yeah," Bull sighed, "do me good, sweetheart." His hips bucked as he shoved his cock deep, holding the M-16 by its stock and barrel behind Peck's neck and pulling him close.
Wolf, meanwhile, not being one to miss out, was unbuttoning his fly and hauled out an impressive piece of meat. Standing next to his buddy, he grabbed the hair on Peck's head and dragged him over to his own raging cock. "Try this one on for size, scuzbag," he said driving his pole to the base, bringing an asthmatic gasp from Peck's chest.
As I watched as the two zoomies abusing the man from both ends, L.T. came over to join me and slipped his arm around my shoulder again. "See something you like?" he grinned at me and nodded to Old Snake.
I looked down to see my dick standing at full attention, but there was no embarrassment. My eyes moved over to his throbbing staff, a clear, glistening drop of pre cum oozing at its tip. "Yeah," I smirked back, staring at him eye to eye. "Something I like a lot."
I reached over and took his hefty prick in my fist, feeling it spasm at my touch, its pulsing warmth spreading like electricity through my body; the GOOD kind, this time. He pulled the arm around my neck, drawing me closer to him as we watched the two zoomies finish amusing themselves with Peck's body.
"Well," Wolf stated, readjusting his uniform, "that was fun."
"Fuck, yeah," Bull agreed, "He's going to be one popular piece of fresh meat in the pen."
L.T. snaked his arm from around my shoulders and strode over to straddle Peck, lying beaten on the floor in the center of the room. He looked down at the man between his feet, a drop of silver precum falling from his dickhead onto Peck's face. "You liked my dick so much, thought you could sell it like a couple pounds of prime steak, huh? I'm going to do you a favor. Give it to you for free. Just this one time." Dropping down, he sat on Peck's chest with a knee on either side of the slaver's shoulders, and prodded his cockhead at the beaten man's lips. Peck's mouth was stretched to its fullest extent as the marine mast slipped inside. He heaved in useless panic as his airway was occluded by the invading titan. L.T. pulled back and air wheezed audibly into the burning lungs, only to be deprived again as the lieutenant thrust forward once more. Peck's eyes bulged as he fought to breathe, and I was taken back to Dieter ramming his cock in my windpipe until I lost consciousness. I urged L.T. on, retribution being given by his gargantuan ramrod.
"How's that feel," L.T. spat, as he rocked the head on his dick. "You still like my cock, asshole? You still fucking LIKE it?" He was almost like a man possessed, his vengeance taking hold.
Suddenly he pulled out of the spasming, gasping throat and stood. Stepping backward, he reached down and pulled at Peck's ankles, exposing the fleshy pink bud of his ass. Unceremoniously he plunged his heroic prick to the hilt, eliciting a scream as it sank, the saliva ineffectively lubricating its girth.
"This...is...for...my...men...," L.T. panted in time with his ferocious in and out strokes. "And for all the men you've fucked with." He increased the rate and force of his pistoning motion, each forward drive bringing more loud bellows from his victim.
With a savage roar, he blasted his cum into the torn and battered asshole. Then, pulling out with a vacuous slurp, his breathing slowed and he stood. His eyes cleared and he drew a muscular forearm over his brow to wipe away the sweat.
I glanced down at the moaning form on the floor and then at the two airmen with impressed grins on their faces. "Good job, Devildog," Wolf snorted. "I'm sure anything he's got waiting for him is gonna be a piece of cake after that."
L.T.'s breathing returned to normal and he curled the corners of his mouth. "Well, maybe I got a little carried away." Then assessing the man at his feet, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and shook his head, "Nah."
A couple of months have now passed since that contingency in the jungle; and, in one way, life is pretty much back to the normal routine. But, in another way, things will never fuckin' be the same. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. Hell, no!
As I later discovered, our whole mission was to serve as bait. Recon my ass! The brass had planned the entire goddamned thing. We were SUPPOSED to get bagged, so that L.T.'s implanted transmitter could bring the enforcement platoon to capture Peck and his little band of merry men. After extensive searches, this seemed to be the only way to actually locate and get to the sick bastard. Apparently, the brass wanted him BAD.
L.T. had volunteered for the assignment, which both surprised and relieved the head shed. They emphasized the details that they knew from the escapees, stressed the fact that there would be circumstances extenuating beyond mere captivity and forced servitude. But, if there were any questions regarding this hunky, strapping Marine's motivations, they kept it to themselves, thankful that they didn't have to select someone on their own. Not to mention the fact that even their macho, hetero, breeder brains knew a prize bull when they saw one. There was no way Peck would pass this up.
L.T. had a helluva time picking a team. So, how did I feel, being one of the chosen? Well, there was a certain pride associated with it. And, as I said before, I'd have followed him to hell and back if he asked me to. But I reckon I was sorta pissed when I later gathered all the facts. Not pissed at L.T., of course, but at the command that would knowingly put men in this situation. However, after many talks with Lieutenant Brown, he showed me that this was another job that had to be done. Men's lives were at stake. Marine's lives. And this was no different, really, than fighting in Grenada or Bosnia or any other fucking hell hole the world could puke up. It's just that the weapons were different.
Anyway, according to the official debrief, the initial assault team had moved in catching Peck's henchmen unaware as they went about herding the captives to their work assignments. It was a relatively easy job to corral them in the same field where we had been given our morning hose downs, and release the prisoners. A jamming device had been developed by the R and D guys which blocked the use of the control boxes and allowed for the removal of the cursed cockrings. Then, the OIC's - that would have been Bull and Wolf - left the grunts in charge of the bewildered goon squad and moved up to the main house to apprehend Peck, and release L.T. and me. And everyone lived happily ever after.
UNOFFICIALLY, however, Ski told me a slightly different version. While it was true that, after the cavalry came riding in with weapons blazing, Peck's men had pretty much given up on the spot, that wasn't the end of the story. The hairy, red headed grunt with the constant hard on, attacked one of the goons. And I don't mean he just up and slugged him. He ATTACKED him. Had the fucking black uniform ripped to shreds and was fucking his ass before anyone realized what was happening. The grunts now in charge made a halfhearted attempt to stop it, but, by then, practically ALL the freed captives had picked one or two of their favorites to strip and abuse. All a little tit for tat, you might say. No doubt there was a lot of pent-up frustration being vented, and it didn't matter what a man's true orientation was, there was retribution to be had. Ski says that even some of the rescuers got in on the ruckus, trading off weapons with their buddies while they found an ass or mouth to fill.
As for L.T. and me, well, there were some details left out of that debrief, as well. After Bull and Wolf had escorted Peck from the room, we set about packaging Dieter's naked hulking carcass for shipment. But only after I fucked his unconscious, yielding hairy ass while L.T. watched, lazily stroking his own monster dick. Actually, it was L.T.'s suggestion. He said it was my prerogative after all that Dieter had put me through. Who was I to argue? And, in fact, I do believe that L.T. enjoyed the show.
After all the confusion in the compound had died down, the captives clothed, and all of Peck's goon squad rounded up and loaded, L.T. went down to meet up with Bull and Wolf. It was decided that he and I would stay on at the isolated ranch for a few days to sort through the mountain of records and files Peck's operation had accumulated. By doing so, he hoped to be able to locate most, if not all, of the men who had been sold, and rescue them as well, and bring them home.
Of course, the fact that Dieter was shipped on schedule to his new job producing cum for that old pervert in an ironic twist of justice, never made it to the official version of the report, either.
That night, L.T. and I were alone on the expansive compound. After hours of sifting through paperwork, we sat in the large farmhouse in front of a blazing fireplace, having a late supper of sandwiches and beer we had raided from Peck's kitchen. They say that stressful times bring men closer together. I reckon that's true, because there is now a bond between the two of us that can't be broken. But then, we have more in common than just the experiences of those few hellish days.
My memory's not really clear who was the first to suggest it, and I guess it really doesn't matter. We both shared the idea, sitting there finishing up the dregs of beer. So, who actually verbalized the proposition of what should happen next, was just a formality. Standing up, L.T. draped that big old arm of his around my shoulder as we headed off and pulled me close to his rock hard body. That night, in the dark warmth of the oak paneled bedroom, was the start of a relationship that continues to grow.
Peck eventually was tried in military court for assault, kidnapping, AWOL, as well as numerous other charges. He was sent to a Marine Brig to serve out his sentence; and, true to his word, L.T. made sure everyone knew what he had done to fellow grunts. A buddy of mine who's assigned there tells me all the miseries that Peck is forced to bear, not just from the inmates but from the guards as well, who just turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the screams from the shower or the exercise yard or wherever. I caught the gleam in my buddy's eyes as he relates these stories, and I'm more than a little convinced that what he expresses comes from a first hand perspective.
So, that's the story. And now, if you'll excuse me, the lieutenant's waiting. Time for drill.