The Telemachus Story Archive

The Mission
Part 7 - Brainwashed
By Randy Dragon

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The Mission


The broad shoulders and the back with the Celtic tattoos were covered with a thin layer of sweat while the man did his push-ups.

There were lots of things, troubling his mind, things he had to learn to come into terms with.  He had had a lot of time, however, to relive what had happened to him and what had been done to him.  His pride and his self-confidence had been severely crushed when he suffered the most devastating defeat of his life. The Arab rebel leader had systematically turned his strength against him. He had been taught a most humiliating lesson that his sexual prowess was as well his weakness. He had been used like a cheap whore, as a servant of the sexual pleasures Rashad had demanded. He remembered with horror how he had been pathetically disposed. Helpless gagged, stuffed into a body bag together with a piece of his own underwear that was soaked with fuckin’ chloroform. He had tried hard, but he hadn't had a chance. The vapors had worked efficiently, and when he woke up again, he was already on board of a freighter under the flag of Liberia, bound for an unknown destination.

He had been treated well and he hadn't resisted nor tried to escape because Rashad had most efficiently taken the will to fight out of him and he had to realize that having no clue about his whereabouts, any escape would have been useless as he wouldn't know where to go.

After a while his badly hurt ego started recovering.  As there was not much to do - actually, there was nothing to do it all - he started exercising to get his body back into shape. As he couldn't communicate with the crew, who didn't speak English, he exercised a lot. Now, the journey seemed to have come to an end. During the night the ship had anchored at an unknown shore. In the morning a motorboat arrived and the crew signaled him that the time had come for him to leave.

Dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of flip-flops, all given to him after he had arrived naked, he climbed down the vessel's side by a rope-ladder.

"Welcome Master Sergeant O’Dowerty, most welcome," a small, bald shaved man wearing gray cotton trousers and a long sleeved vest of the same color smiled at him. He was clearly Asian, maybe eighteen maybe twenty years old.

"Where am I?  How do you know my name?" Hank asked.

"Please, Master Sergeant O’Dowerty, sit down, the sea might be rough,” the Asian pointed to a bench, turned around and fired up the engine of the boat. He was looking back to Hank over his shoulder.

"My name is Eng-Lok,” he shouted over the roaring sound of the motor.

It took them half an hour until they reached the shore.  They entered a small bay and approached a wooden landing stage. There were two men waiting for them.

One was another Asian dressed in black silk clothes. Hank guessed the man to be in his late forties. He stood at 5’ 5”, lanky, weighing less than 150 lbs. His short-cut brisk hair was pitch-black.

The other man was a muscular Caucasian male. He looked rather American in his mid-thirties, broad shoulders, about 170 lbs. He stood 5.7 ft. tall. His dark-blonde crew cut hair was short-clipped at the sides. He could have been a member of the Marine Corps, however, he was not wearing a uniform. The man was concentrating on bouncing a basketball between his legs. Barbwire tattoos were circling the calves. He was wearing a jersey, shorts and worn-out sneakers.

The black-clothed Asian turned to Hank. Dark, mesmerizing, piercing eyes were dominating the clean-shaven face.

“My name is Kim Nang Poh, but you may call me Kim, or if you’d preferred already: Master Kim,” he said in a cool voice.

“Jack, say hello to this gentleman, he will stay with us for a long time,” Kim said.

The white man caught the ball and looked at Hank with a friendly smile.

"Hi, my name is Jack,” he extended his hand. Hank noticed the USMC eagle tattoo on the man's biceps.

“My name is Hank,” Hank shook Jack’s hand in bewilderment.

“Are… are you a Marine?” Hank asked.

“A Marine?” Jack looked confused, "I… I dunno…”

He grinned sheepishly and started again, bouncing his ball.

Kim smiled shortly and called something in a foreign language to Eng-Lok. The bald men bowed and ran down the landing stage.

“Mr. O’Dowerty, please,” he pointed invitingly to a parked Jeep at the sandy beach road. Eng-Lok was already waiting in the driver seat. Jack jumped playfully in the front passenger seat. Kim motioned Hank to sit with him in the back of the open car.  They took off and soon entered the jungle, following a mud track. Hank was still trying to comprehend what was going on.  The heat and moisture of the tropical climate were already getting to him and he felt his sweat soaking the T-shirt. He hit his arm and squashed a mosquito that tried to feed on him. Above the monotone roar of the car engine, he heard the sounds of the jungle. Shrill shrieks of birds and cackling monkey laughter filled the air. After three hours the road was climbing steeply and the vegetation changed. The temperature dropped and the bushes and ferns of the jungle, where more and more replaced by pine trees, enriching the air with aromatic resinous flavor. Then the dense forest opened, and they entered into a village of ramshackle huts.

“This is Suyang-dong village,” Eng-Lok said,” I was born here.”

Above the village, nested in an anticline, rose a fortress-like structure made of dark granite stone blocks. Several convoluted winged roofs crowned the building complex. The shiny yellow tiles were glistening like molten gold in the beams of the rising morning sun.  Fierce looking dragons were guarding the rooftops. The Jeep passed through a massive wooden gate and Hank caught a glimpse of some grim looking god-like statues guarding the entrance. After passing through another gate that was guarded by stern-faced muscle-packed men with naked torsos, they stopped in the center of a pebbled courtyard.

"Welcome to the Temple of the Dark Moon," Kim said and invited Hank to leave the car.

Jack jumped from the Jeep as well and started playing with his ball.

“Where am I? What country is this?” Hank asked.

“All in due time, Mr. O'Dowerty, first we should find you a place to stay.” Kim replied softly.

"Jack! Why don't you show your room to our friend? I think it might be a nice idea that you two stay together.” Kim said.

“Cool!” Jack grinned. Still bouncing his ball, he grabbed Hank's hand and pulled him towards a flight of stairs leading to the first floor of the building. They were walking alongside a balcony and entered the house through a dim-lit narrow corridor until they reached Jack’s room. There was a typical decoration that reminded Hank about his time in high school. Posters of football players were at the wall. There were two hammocks and coarse wool rags covering the stone floor.

“You can sleep there,” Jack pointed to one of the hammocks.

Hank's mind was racing.  He remembered his telephone conversations with Dwight about the USMC Captain, who had disappeared in Korea. His first name had been Jack. Could it be?  If that was Jack Durango, then they had brought him to Korea; North Korea to be precise. But why?

Jack was still bouncing the ball.

“OK, Captain Durango, we are alone now, you can stop this charade. Sir? Tell me, what is this whole thing about?  Who are those people?  What do they want?  Why are they holding us?  Is this Korea?" Hank asked eagerly.

Jack avoided looking at him and balanced the rotating ball on his finger.

“Stop that fucking playing,” Hank seized Jack's arm and the ball bounced away.

“Sir, I don't know why you are doing this, but with all due respect, why are you behaving like a twelve year old?”

“I am fifteen already,” Jack protested, looking for the ball.

“What the fuck is this?  Captain, I am Master Sergeant Hank O'Dowerty, USMC. I have been abducted from Iraq.” Hank urged,” Sir, back home they know where you are and they are going to get us out of here.”

"I don't know what you're talking about. Why are you so strange?  That is not funny!” Jack looked miserable.

“Damn, what is going on here?!" Hank shouted irritated.

“Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, " Eng-Lok was standing in the door. He smiled politely.

"Master Kim is asking for you.  He wants to show you the temple. " The monk turned around, apparently expecting Hank to come with him.

Hank gave Jack a final confused look and followed Eng-Lok.

“I know that you have a lot of questions to ask and I thought you might be interested to see this,” Kim and Hank were walking into another courtyard. About forty men, dressed only in skimpy black Speedos were doing push-ups supervised by an elderly monk.

Hank looked in disbelief at the sweating athletic bodies. Many of the men had tattoos of the Army, of the Navy, of the Air Force or of the US Marine Corps on the arms or shoulders. The buzz haircut identified them as well as military personnel. The hunky master Sergeant was wondering why he suddenly became aware that he hadn't cum for more than a week by now. Rashad had drained him so thoroughly that there hadn't been the tiniest desire throughout the whole journey on board of the freighter. There was promptly a huge amount of saliva in his mouth and he swallowed.

"What the hell is this?  We are in North Korea, aren't we?  I didn't know, that we have a training base over here." Hank asked startled.

For the first time since they had met Kim laughed.

"A training base?  Oh well, indeed we might call it that. You seem to be a very intelligent man, Master Sergeant, although you're missing a little detail.” Kim grinned.

"You see, we are training these men here to keep them in shape.  For our purpose, we need them healthy, and… how do you call it in America? ... pumped. Yes, I think, that is the word: Pumped.”

The notion triggered something deep inside of him, although Hank failed to comprehend the sudden competing sensations within. Nevertheless, he felt the probing look of the Asians dark eyes scanning his body.

“Let's walk over there,” Kim was pointing to a nearby building. To Hank’s surprise, there was a modern gym inside that didn't fit at all to the old temple. Heavily breathing men were working out on weightlifting machines, treadmills and lat machines. All were wearing the tiny black Speedos he had already seen outside. Now there was a distinctive tingling in his balls and he felt the coarse fabric of his jeans grating the cut head of his twitching cock as he did not wear any underwear. Automatically he adjusted his balls and this didn't go unnoticed by the Asian.

"Hi, Master Kim, "one of the men with a hard swimmer's body pushing dumbbells said eagerly,” look, I can push now two hundred fifty pounds already.”

“That is very good, Simon, you are a good boy. I am very contented with your progress,” Kim noted in appreciation and petted the sweat-soaked cheek of the sinewy men in his early twenties. Simon looked at him gleefully.

"Simon was transferred to us after he failed to get on board of the yacht of a Colombian drug lord,” Kim explained walking on. "He was in pretty bad shape, when the drug mafia released him, but after a couple of months of bodily training and spiritual exercises, I'd say he is quite presentable now, don't you think Mr. O'Dowerty?”

“Yes, certainly, but… but he is acting somehow...uhm strange,” Hank replied. "I realized this as well as Captain Durango, you know?”

“Mr. O'Dowerty, you have a lot of questions and I assure you they will all be answered in due time. After this long journey many things here in Asia would certainly look strange to you. I assure you that we are specialized to bring the best out of our students. You will start with your training tomorrow.” Kim said, "but tonight, you will meet the Grandmaster Gao-Ban, who is the present Abbott of our temple. He is much more competent than me, to enlighten you with spiritual clarity. "

Kim led him back to the residential quarters of the temple. "You must be tired after this long journey. You might wish to rest until lunch is served.”

When Hank returned to his room Jack was gone. On his hammock, however, he found some new clothes that had been provided for him. There was a light blue, comfortable looking short sleeved cotton vest and a pair of black trousers that were covering the legs, just over the knees, leaving his strong calves with the barbed-wire tattoo visible. He adjusted the black cotton belt around his waist and lay down in the hammock.

He woke up from Jack's whistling when he returned rather noisily from his workout. His muscular body was covered in sweat and he was wearing the same black Speedo that he had seen on the other men earlier.

“Hi.  How are you feeling now? These clothes are quite comfy, huh? Let me take a shower and then we go for lunch.” Jack fetched a towel and rushed out of the door.

Jack returned seemingly in no time.  Pearls of water were still dropping from his moist black hair.  He threw the damp towel on a chair and dressed in a combination of the same blue and black cotton clothes same as Hank.

“Let's go, I'm really hungry,” Jack said. They walked downstairs and crossed the courtyard towards a long stretched building. Laughter and chattering of a crowd and the clanging of crockery could be heard. There were about seventy young men sitting at long tables inside eating rice, vegetables and fish from ceramic bowls.  All were wearing the blue and black cotton clothes and were apparently in high spirits. The whole scene brought Hank’s memories back about his summer camp vacations when he was a teen boy. Hank's confusion grew. The whole place was lacking the strict discipline, which was so typical for US military facilities. This was the strangest training camp he had ever seen.

“So what is your assignment?” He asked a stocky built guy with cropped red hair, who was sitting at their table and whom Jack had introduced as Bobby.

“Assignment?” Bobby grinned sheepish and continued shoveling rice into his mouth.

Hank took a sip from his mug. The drink was apparently a kind of protein shake, with an exotic flavor, but not bad.

“You must have an assignment,” he insisted.

“You mean homework?” Bobby asked, “not really much you know.”

“Why are you asking all this strange questions?”  Jack asked later, when they were walking back to their room.

“I don't understand you Captain, but if you want to play on with this charade…,” Hank shrugged, but inside of him despair was growing.

Jack changed again into his black Speedo.  He was hardly done when the door was opened.

“Time for your spiritual cleansing,” Eng-Lok smiled. He nodded friendly at Hank.

“Uhm do I have to, Master Eng-Lok … I mean I did only yesterday,” Jack asked almost fearfully.

“Jack you know that you have to. Let's go!” Eng-Lok said.

“I know, I'm ready.” Lamely Jack followed Eng-Lok.

“Wait a minute…”, Hank wanted to follow as well, but was held back by Eng-Lok stopped him holding a hand against his chest.

“I'm sorry, Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, but you cannot come with us.  You need first your initiation. Only then can you participate in the spiritual cleansing classes. But I'm sure this will soon be happening,” Eng-Lok said with a winning smile.”

Hank was still wondering what this initiation would be when he heard footsteps approaching. Two middle-aged monks were leading a black stud about 20 years old down the aisle. His head was bald shaven. Hank guessed him at 6.2  ft. He was heavily muscled, weighing at least 240 lbs. His incredible developed chest was dominated by a pair of hard-muscled, flexing hanging pecs. He was wearing studded leather bands around his wrists and the black speedo slip was barely able to contain a hefty 12 inch baby-maker.

They were just past Hank, when it hit him. He knew that hunk.

“Trent?  Trent Crusher?” He asked in total surprise. Hank knew the Linebacker from the ‘Pink Cock’. What was he doing here?

Trent turned around. His eyes narrowed.

“Do I know you, how do you know my name?” he asked.

“You need to hurry, otherwise you're late for your cleansing class,” one of the monks urged him.  The other monk looked apologetic at Hank. This time Hank was determined to find out what was going on. The three men had just walked on and were descending down into the courtyard.  Hank was rushing after them on bare feet, hiding behind pillars as best as he could.

Trent and the three monks passed a gate and crossed another courtyard. Finally, they entered a huge round building with a red-tiled roof. Hank followed them. He watched them disappear through a narrow door behind a table that looked like an altar with incense sticks, burning oil lamps and piles of oranges.

When Hank entered the room it was empty. There were some dusty chairs with broken legs in one corner and a huge rug covering one of the walls. The air smelled heavily of incense.

“What the heck?  Where are they?” Hank asked silently. He walked across the room and pulled at the rug.

“Yeah!” He hissed in triumph. There was a small entry with stairs leading down.  Hank didn't hesitate and followed these stairs. At the bottom was another door which he opened cautiously. He was looking into an entirely different world.

The air was filled with the acrid smell that is so typical for hospitals. The hall below the temple turned out to be a modern research laboratory that could easily rival any facility in Europe or in the US. High-powered halogen light made the chrome surface of tables and desks shine. Scientific staff dressed in green laboratory gowns hastened through the room. Others were busy keying in data into the many computer terminals. Nobody took any notice of the three monks who led Trent into a section separated from the main laboratory by transparent glass walls.

In the center of the section was a row of machines that looked like saddles of heavy motorbikes. The room was filled with curses and groans from the naked virile hunks who were riding the slowly rocking bike-like machines.

“Motherfucka…shit…bastards…fuckk,” were some words that Hank understood. Trent was seemingly unimpressed of what was going on in the room. He mounted the next apparatus and leaned forward until his torso was resting on what usually would have been the tank cover. The monks put his naked feet into stirrups on both sides. Then Trent’s hips were lifted and the Speedo slip was stripped down to his knees. One of the monks guided the black stud’s 12-inch cock into a silicon covered sheath that was built in the saddle.

The big black body was then fixed with broad leather straps across the back and the narrow waist and across the slightly spread thighs.

A monk entered some commands into a keyboard and the machine started to buck in a rhythmic rocking motion. Hank couldn’t believe what happened right in front of his eyes, but it was obvious that the hunky Linebacker and the other studs were milked by the machines. There were transparent hoses entering the body of the apparatuses connecting to several glass containers. Cum was slowly traveling through the hoses and dribbling into the containers.

Trent’s cock stiffened quickly inside the soft vibrating silicon sheath. Then the whole saddle started to hum and vibrate. Quickly his entire body was responding to the stimulations. His giggles turned to soft moans and finally to guttural grunts. In no time his muscles went rigid.

“UUrgh,” a stifled groan and the convulsions of the hunky body indicated his climax. It had taken less than two minutes and his man juice was flowing through the hoses into one of the glass containers and the machine went on.

When the thrill of his orgasm subsided Trent felt as if waking up from a dream. He remembered the surprised look of his girlfriend Sue while he was pounding her heavily. The horny fucker had mistakenly interpreted this as the chick’s reaction to his skilled love-making. A moment later when he was cuming a leash was thrown around his throat. Strong hands forced the choking football player’s wrists behind his back and while he was still ejaculating he felt a sting in his buttock. Then his world went dark.

The next memory was about the wrinkled face of a small Asian monk who held a twinkling prayer wheel in front of his face.

Now he found himself once again strapped onto the fucking machine who had milked an endless number of loads from his throbbing shaft. Trent couldn’t tell how long he was already riding the machine, but he felt caught in an endless loop of climaxes. His daily life in the temple had faded away. He realized again that he had been kidnapped and what was done to him.

“You assholes, let me go!” He tried to get up from the terrible thing that was bucking and vibrating. His dick slipped halfway out from the sucking sheath. For moments the muscular body was struggling against the straps. Then without any emotions the monk hit the keyboard and the stirrups pulled at his legs forcing his hips down and his dick back inside the pulsing sheath. After his cock was well embedded the machine bucked with a number of shocks until his body was in a kind of missionary position, holding on to the saddle in a tight embrace.

“Fuck! Oooh…shit,” Trent moaned while he quickly adapted to the rhythm of the machine. Now that his body was perfectly synchronized with the mechanical stimulation, the next climax followed promptly.  His boner was sliding in and out of the slippery silicon casing. Each bucking motion both pulled and squeezed his itching nuts and the vibrations made his skin tingle.

“Ohh shit…uhhh yeahhh,” The monks watched satisfied the tamed hunk accepting his fate. It had always been like this. The black stud and his well-built white fellow subjects surrendered usually quickly to the stimulations of the machines, devilish designed to exploit male sexual urges.

“Damn you all, I’m going to cumm…huhhhh,” After the football player had spilled his second load, another command was entered and now the machine was working even more intense. The container was replaced with a new empty one. The extracted semen was mixed with the cum milked from the other men and added dribbling into a line of ceramic jugs. Hank recognized in disbelieve the jugs in which the daily protein shakes were served with the food. Apparently the studs were fed with their own man juice.

“Oh fuck, but th-that’s wrong. It shouldn’t be like that, uhhhh…,” Trent was approaching his third climax.

“Aargh, shit it feels so fuckin’ hot,” he was soaked in sweat and felt exhausted, but he knew that the process would only stop after his nuts were thoroughly drained. He had no choice but to surrender to the erotic stimulation.

“I’m cummmmin’ ohh nooo,” The heart throb and womanizer would have never believed that he would voluntarily fuck a machine, but there he was: The sweat glistening athletic body was glued to the saddle.

“Huh…huh…huhhh,” His hips were undulating and saliva was dropping from his gasping mouth.

“Oh shit..pleeze stop…no more,” he was begging now. The last cumshots were encouraged by a monk who inserted a finger up his exposed ass and rubbed his pleasure button until the man howled in sheer lust.

It took 40 minutes to milk the stud dry. By then the beefy body was hanging limp on the saddle. The monks had no trouble lifting the exhausted Linebacker from the machine. The container with the freshly milked man seed was carefully stored in cooling liquid, while the shivering stud was led towards the exit.

Trent looked confused and needed the monks’ support who led him out. As his arousal was subsiding his mind was quickly changing back to the daily routines and his life at the temple. The memories of his former life drifted away

Quickly Hank closed the door. Now he knew for sure that this facility was definitely not part of the USMC and he knew that he himself was nothing but a captive. He was rushing back to his room, cautious not to be caught. As long as he was able to move within this facility he would be able to gather intelligence. Once he was back in his hammock he lay back, closed his eyes and tried to analyze what he had just witnessed.

The temple served another purpose than worshipping. The athletic hunks, kept in top shape, were apparently systematically milked, however, the monks were giving an ominous preference only to the semen that was collected after two cum shots. Hank could not fathom any reason, but he sensed that this was important findings already. Another strange reaction was the short but intense attempt of resistance he had witnessed. It looked as if the state of orgasm had triggered that reaction, but again Hank could not fathom why and there was no explanation for the almost childish behaviour he had noticed with both Jack and Trent in their daily routines. The afternoon passed and finally right before sunset Eng-Lok passed by.

"Master Kim told me that you are going to have a meeting with Grandmaster Gao-Ban. This is great honor, you should clean up before you see the Abbott and I will get you some more appropriate clothes for this joyous occasion,” Eng-Lok said excited.

While Hank was showering, his mind was racing. The Abbott might have the clues he was missing so far. Even more, should he manage to overpower the Abbott and take him hostage there could be an opening for a quick escape.

Back to his room, he found the new clothes that Eng-Lok had promised him. It was a yellow silk vest with cutoff sleeves that hardly closed over his sculpted chest. There was as well a pair of Marine-blue baggy silk trousers that felt comfortably cool on his skin.

Eng-Lok nodded approvingly and picked the hunky Marine up for his first meeting with the temple’s Abbott. They walked across the quiet temple ground and arrived at a huge rectangular shaped building.

“Please take of your shoes,” Eng-Lok pointed to Hank’s sandals.

On bare feet Hank entered the long dark hall and was welcomed by a chorus of monks who were repeating monotonous incantations. The air was heavy with the sweet smell of incense burning on several small altars along the wood paneled walls. The floor was covered with black high-polished tiles that felt cool under his bare feet after he left his sandals at the entrance. The hall was lit by hundreds of small oil lamps that flickered above the altars.

Suspiciously the Marine was walking to the end of the hall, where he recognized Kim dressed in black robes. Waiting respectfully in a distance was another Asian man wearing one of the overalls he had seen at the scientists in the research facility below the temple.

Besides Kim sitting on his knees was a small monk dressed in yellow and red robes. When Hank approached he realized that the monk was a midget and not just small because he was kneeling. His cheeks were wrinkled and a white long goatee spread from his chin.

“Good evening Master Sergeant O’Dowerty, “ the monk welcomed him with a surprising deep melodious voice,” my name is Gao-Ban. I am the Abbott of this temple. You know Master Kim already I presume and this is Dr. Takashima from Japan.” He nodded to the waiting scientist.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” the Grandmaster pointed to a small pillow in front of him. He played with a silk shawl letting it slip through his hands.

“What is going on? This is not a US base, huh?” Hank didn’t sit down. Neither of the men was armed. He noticed a heavy bronze ring that was embedded into the tiled floor right in front of the Abbott.

An angry look appeared on Kim’s face at the Americans obvious disrespect for the temple’s Grand-Master.

“I know you have a lot of questions and I assure you, they all will be answered in due time,” Gao-Ban said friendly, “please sit down and have a cup of tea.”

“Save your fuckin’ tea for yourself, I ain’t drinking your spiked stuff,” Hank replied hostile. He couldn’t believe how stupid these people were. There were no weapons and no guards. Dr. Takashima was too far away and he could take the Abbott down even before Kim would be able to interfere. The old midget wouldn’t offer any resistance to a well-trained Marine fighter. Hank’s muscles tensed while he prepared himself to attack.

“Master Sergeant O’Dowerty you are upset, I can see that,” the Abbott said calmly,” please accept my hand of friendship to welcome you properly at our humble temple.” He extended one of his wrinkled hands.

“Fine, have it your way,” Hank bowed down and seized the hand. The Abbott grabbed his hand with a surprising power. Hank looked up and saw a triumphant smile in the eyes of Gao-Ban. The silk shawl was sliding around his wrists and before Hank realized it he had been tethered to the bronze ring with the silken bond.

“Fuck! What are you doing?” forced to bow Hank pulled furiously at the shawl but the silk proofed to be strong and cut painfully into his wrists. Then he felt somebody seizing his hips from behind. Eng-Lok loosened the cotton belt and the baggy pants fell down to his ankles.

“Shit! I’ll get you for that,” Hank struggled to free his ankles.

“Dr. Takashima, please introduce our rude guest to the Dragon’s Claw.” Kim said, ignoring the cursing Marine.

“Certainly Master Kim,” Dr. Takashima went to one of the altars and opened a big jar. He reached inside and produced a strange looking device that was apparently stored in oil. The oil was dripping to the tiled floor while the Japanese walked behind the struggling Marine.

“What the fuck is that?” Hank tried to look over his shoulder, desperately fighting to free his hands.

The device was made of dark metal with an awkward reddish glow in the flickering light of the oil lamps. The front part was shaped like a dragon head with a gaping mouth. This continued in a kind of flexible sheath made of black leather with woven threads of copper wire. Attached to it was the dragon’s tail, split into a short abutment carved from Ivory and the conic actual tail. It was carved from Jade and about 2/3 inch in diameter at its widest point ending a raised bump at its ½ inch tip. Both parts of the device were connected by a curved handle.

The doctor caught Hank’s dangling cock in the lower end of the leather tube and slipped it over the hefty shaft.

“Fuck get that off me!” Ignoring Hank’s attempts to kick, the Japanese positioned the shorter abutment between Hank’s nuts and his asshole. The doctor guided the bigger part of the tail into the ass cleft. Hank felt the tip of the tail slipping between is cheeks and poking against the sphincter.

“No! You fuckin’ bastard, stop …oh shittt…aaaarghh!” He tried to clench is buttocks but the oil had made the invader as slippery as a snake and before Hank realized it, the tail  was already half way up his chute.

“Huhh…noo..fuckkkk..uuunnnhhh,” His stuffed rectum contracted instinctively, drawing the rest of the Jade tail all the way up the anal canal.

“You see, the Dragon’s Claw is anatomically tailored to the male body, driven solely by a man's sphincter muscle contractions.” Dr. Takashima explained.

“Aargh..nnnooo!” While the tail’s tip adjusted itself on top of Hank’s prostrate the Ivory knob of the abutment was pressed deftly under his scrotum against the perineum aiming at the pleasure spot from the outside.

“Oh shit!” Hank’s dick suddenly flared and filled the leather sheath and the crimson mushroom head appeared in the gaping dragon mouth which locked in place right into the groove below the coronal ridge of the bloated dick head.

“It fits you well, you should feel the effects rather soon,” The doctor checked that the leather straps that connected the tail to the tube were separating the balls and released the device from his hands.

“Fuck, what is goin’ on?” Hank’s hips started a bucking motion.

The devilish claw took his body's contractions and transferred them into a pivoting action stimulating the prostate, perineum and anal canal at the same time. Tingling sensations spread through the trapped penis.

“What pervert thing is that? Get that off my fuckin’ dick!” Hank snorted while he was tearing at the silken bond. His wild struggle did not get him free but inside of him the sphincter muscle contracted vigorously and sucked the claw right up his rear chute until it rested against the prostate.

“Aargh, shit! It fucks my ass,” Hank was writhing in lustful agony. Because the claw was suspended unstably within his ass, the slightest muscular action was directly transmitted throughout the rectum, onto the prostate and the perineum.

“Unng!” The hunk felt his sphincter convulse from these sensations and this started again the chain reaction making his knees buckle.

“Oh noo!”Drops of pre-cum appeared in the piss slit. Hank couldn’t believe it when he detected the first well known signs that he was about to shoot his man juice. Never before when he was jacking off or with a woman or a man had he reached climax so fast.

“Uhhhh…” Kim watched in glee Hank’s astonished expression when he felt the warm pulse of his semen mounting inside his shaft. The pulsations went on and on. After the first few mild ones the hunk was sucked into a series of massive convulsions that left him totally helpless.

Kim knew this helpless expression all too well. He had seen it countless times already in the faces of the hapless young men who had been hauled in by their commandos. Although this big Marine with his red brown hair was an outstanding specimen, he would finally surrender to the dragon claw as the many jocks before him. Looking at the flushed face of the gasping Marine, Kim's mind traveled back in time to the day when it all began.

He had been captured by the Americans, while he was trying to steal one of their latest target control units (TCU) from a base in South Korea. What could have been the end of his career, turned into a major success when he managed to escape. He didn't only bring one of the highly desired TCUs, but as well Jack Durango, a decorated Marine Captain who had captured him before. The North Korean propaganda machinery had exploited the story of the caught American spy to the embarrassment of the US government.

North Korean relations to the Americans had gone sour, when Washington tried to neutralize the North Korean uranium research program. Kim knew, however, that the biotechnology research program of the regime in Pyongyang was posing by far a greater threat than the nuclear development projects.

He had met Dr. Takashima, a Japanese who had defected to North Korea after the Japanese government had shut down his research on human genes. Given the relations between Korea and Japan were not without strain, it was a remarkable move by Dr. Takashima and it was rewarded by Pyongyang. North Korea didn't show much concern for human ethics and soon Dr. Takashima could continue his research.

When the Japanese explained to Kim the concept of biological weapons that would selectively affect only certain genders or races, the Korean was excited. Takashima told him that given a sufficient supply of genetic raw material he would be able to produce the first generation of his bio-weapons.

Kim knew immediately that a donor of that special raw material was already in his custody. Since the Marine Captain had made out with his girlfriend in front of the Korean, the Colonel knew that the American was driven by an almost insatiable sex drive.

As long the hunky Marine was controlled by the drug that Kim had brought from the laboratory at the US base, it hadn't been a problem to extract substantial amounts of his cum. Dr. Takashima's research, however, revealed that the high amount of protein within the American’s seed was rendering most of the semen useless for the development of genetic controlled weapons. Finally, it turned out that at least two cum-shots were required to clear the protein from the system and to collect semen of the appropriate quantity and purity.

Although Jack Durango was hung like a stallion, it soon occurred that more donors were needed. The entire project was in jeopardy because it was obvious that they hadn't sufficient amounts of drugs to control a large number of young powerful males.

Again, luck was on Kim's side. He remembered the old temple at his home village Suyang-dong. In this time the temple was just a miserable bunch of rundown ramshackle buildings, far different from the well-restored dormitories, building complexes and the modern laboratories and research facilities that had been built since.

The monks were said to possess legendary mind control powers. After a meeting with the old Abbott the Colonel decided to conduct a practical test. Kim took the Marine and a very skeptical Dr. Takashima to the temple. It was on the evening of this very day, when Jack surrendered to the Dragon Claw.

It had been one legendary Korean ruler who had ordered the monks of the Dark Moon temple to design a torturing device that didn’t injure, didn’t kill but produced nevertheless the desired results. The monks had knowledge that too much pleasure could overload the nervous system and cause a subject to surrender in the same way to pleasure as torture forced to surrender to pain.

With the declining importance of the temple in the centuries to come, both wisdom and knowledge of the monks had been forgotten in the outside world. The Claw had been a mere artifact suffering from corrosion and negligence, rotting somewhere in the temple’s archives.

Jack hadn’t had a shot of the mind control drug for some days and was all his cocky macho self again. Kim was forced to hold the muscular Marine at gunpoint and he knew that Jack would use the slightest opportunity to turn on him in order to release his vengeance. First the Marine had laughed when he met the Abbott, who was a midget with shabby robes. He had continued to laugh when his genitals were strapped into the dusty rusty device by two elderly monks with a gentle smile. But then the laughter had subsided and the Marine had uttered a few nervous grunts. Kim couldn’t believe that the ancient device would work so efficiently but the knowing smile in the Abbott’s face told him it was true.

It took only 10 minutes until an expression of shocked astonishment had appeared on Jack’s face. Then there were curses and cum was gushing from the throbbing cock. The swearing turned to moans and after another 30 minutes, the Marine was down on his fours, slipping on his own cum. He was now pleading that the Claw was removed.

The moaning, helpless bucking man was unable to resist when the monks forced him to face the old Abbott. Gao-Ban presented a golden prayer wheel with precious inlaid emeralds. A chorus of monks hidden behind a heavy curtain started to chant. Before the confused American realized what was going on he was mesmerized by both the monks’ monotonous chants and the twinkling of the relentless spinning prayer wheel.

The Abbott had explained to Kim, that men were most susceptible to mind control in the very moment of sweet and agonizing pleasure that made them mellow and kept them weak. That kind of mind control was most intriguing to Kim as it could offer a replacement for the drugs they had used so far …

A blissful roar from Hank interrupted Kim’s thoughts. ‘That went fast, as usual’, he smiled knowingly.

“Oh Shit! I …. I can’t hold it! Here I fuckin’ cummm!” The ancient device triggered a full-body shaking, continuous orgasm that left the big Marine howling in primal lust.

But he was in for a devilish surprise. Just when he was about to release his boiling man seed his sphincter contracted to prepare for the final relief. Now the copper wires woven within the structure of the leather sheath had reached their limit and stopped the hunk’s shaft from expanding any further. The dragon’s mouth tightened and was digging into the groove below the cock head. The flow of pre-cum stopped as the urethra was sealed.

“Uugh, shiiiit!” Being beyond the point of no return the hunk’s balls contracted and triggered the ejaculation. Hank’s eyes bulged, when his cum flow was jammed painfully within his throbbing shaft, but the stimulations in his ass and from the hypersensitive prostrate kept him going.

“Aaaarghh!” a desperate, furious roar signaled the unavoidable climax. As the urethra was sealed at the dick head the churning cum had no other way to go and spilled back into Hank’s bladder.

The powerful body was hit by an agonizing shock-wave forcing the big Marine down on his knees. This drove the Jade pole even further up his chute and the sizzling prostrate twitched helpless between the abutment and the tail’s tip.

The next orgiastic pulse squeezed the semen with even bigger power up his flared shaft and this time the strangling sheath gave way.

“Uuurghhh!” Cum erupted with vigorous force from the crimson piss slit and splashed audibly on the tiled floor.

“Fuck! What have you perverts done to me?” Hank shook his head desperately trying to clear his dazed mind. Smoke of incense filled his lungs making him cough.

“You have a strong will power, Marine, just as Rashad has told, but you will finally surrender like all the others,” Kim scoffed.

"While you see outside powerful men in their prime, mentally they are just a bunch of docile, happy boys who are programmed to think of the Grand-Master as their well-respected father. They are no longer aware of their physical abilities and are easily controlled.

You, Master Sergeant, will be no different. A happy little boy who wants to obey and please his father. Only when we pump your cum - and I hope it will be a lot - will you leave the trance and know what is being done to you. Then, of course, your rebellious spirit will want to fight back, but it will be in vain and eventually your spirit will be broken forever. Then I will present you and the rest of Western scum to the Supreme Leader of the glorious Democratic People's Republic of Korea.” Kim's expression glowed with the purest fanaticism.

“Uhhrgh…” Hank was crouching at his feet. He was primed for the taking. Kim gave Eng-Lok a nod.

Eng-Lok reached under Hank’s chin and raised the dangling head, forcing him to look at a fast spinning golden shining and emerald twinkling prayer wheel. Instantly the wheel seized his gaze.

“How old are you?” the Abbott asked in a soft monotonous voice.

“What the f… I am 36,” Hank croaked, watching fascinated as the emerald sparks whirled and consolidated in a green sphere.

“When did you lose your virginity?”

“None of your bus…, uhm 13 yeah I was 13,” Hank gasped, shuddering from another approaching climax.

“How did it happen?” the Abbott asked.

“It, it was …oh fuck … with our neighbors wife… “ and Hank told them the story of the muscular teen he had been. Looking three years older than he actually was, he had been seduced by the neighbor’s wife. The memory of that warm summer afternoon, when he learned that older women were most experienced lovers and that even a youthful cock would finally go limp, pushed him over the edge into another climax.

“Unnghhh…” Hank felt his warm cum drooling down his thigh.

“You are 30 years old, isn’t it?” the Abbott asked.

“No, no, uhm well I’m not sure … yes must be like that, ohhh shit I’m so fuckin’ horny.,” Hank almost wailed.

Step by step, skillfully guided by the Abbott, Hank was regressed backwards in time.

He recalled, how he had been overpowered by Rashad the Iraqi warlord. It triggered a hard cumshot that made his body twist when he relived the terrible moment, being trapped with his dick in his enemy’s ass who hooked him on to an anesthetic machine.

By now Hank’s gaze was entirely caught by the spinning prayer wheel. The Abbott had convinced him being a 20 year old twink. His mind opened wide and he eagerly told the stories of his sexual adventures. His macho ego was virtually ripped from his personality when the Abbott forced him to reveal again and again the most embarrassing experiences he had to suffer. The Asians listened interested to his humiliation of being caught by Taylor and his gang.

Finally, Hank felt like he was 13 years old. He was no more match for the Grand-Master. Gone was the military training. Lost was the experience from the many battlefields on which he had fought. Forgotten were all the women and men he had fucked. He didn’t even remember the neighbor’s wife and after a few instructions from the midget he didn’t know how to fuck anymore: Master Sergeant Hank O’Dowerty was mentally a virgin. His front head rested on the tiled floor. He was sobbing from exhaustion and a poodle of cum had gathered below his belly and between his knees. A pair of tiny emptied nuts was hanging loosely in the shrunken shriveled nut sac.

The Dragon Claw detached itself from the rapidly deflating dick. The Jade tail flipped with a soft plop from his ass and the device rattled to the floor.

“Again an amazing display of your successful work, Dr. Takashima,” Kim said to the Japanese who bowed respectfully.

“I couldn’t have done it, without our support, Colonel Kim,” he said humbly.

“We need to work on the trance, however, the subjects are still evading from the mind conditioning once we make them reach climax.” Takashima said.

“Don’t worry too much about this,” Kim grinned,” they shall know, who their masters are.”

“This boy,” he pointed at Hank, “will be a prime donor. He will wake from his trance at the moment of every cumshot, thus his life will be a continuous cum circle. It will break him to know that superior Asians are milking him again and again.”

“Aww..that hurts!” Hank tried to free his wrists.

“My child, now you should pay your respects to Master Kim,” The Abbott released Hank’s wrists from the silk bond.

“You will call me Master Kim, understood?” Kim said to the Marine who was struggling getting back on his feet.

“Yes, Master Kim, I understand that, “ Hank replied with a boyish smile while he was staggering with the pants around his ankles.

“Here these are for you, my dear boy,” Eng-Lok offered Hank a skimpy pair of black Speedos and helped him to put them on. The depleted nuts and the deflated dick fit well into the tiny fabric.

“Oh thank you so much,” Hank beamed and was rewarded with a slap across his face.

“You will address me respectfully as Uncle Eng-Lok, understood!” The monk said sternly.

“Yes Sir, uhm I mean yes, Uncle Eng-Lok, sorry…” Hank had almost tears in his eyes.

“Now my, my…,’ Eng-Lok smiled friendly again,”why don’t we go back to your room and may be your friend Jack will play a nice game with you, will you?”

“Oh wow, that will be fun… uhm, yes thank you Uncle Eng-Lok,” Hank replied shyly.

“May I leave, Grand-Master Gao-Ban?” Hank asked.

“First you clean up the mess you have made,” Kim pointed to the cum-covered tiles on the floor. The Asians watched in glee as the big stud went down on his knees and without protest started to gobble up his own spunk. His firm buttocks were raised high and the skimpy brief gave a clear view to the ass crack. Finally the floor shone squeaky clean.

“May I leave now Master Kim?” Hank asked pleadingly, licking a few globs of cum from the corners of his mouth.

“Yes my son, you are done here,” Kim nodded.

“Thank you, Master Kim,” Hank bowed politely to both Kim and to the Abbott and followed Eng-Lok out of the hall.

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