Sergeant O’Connor and I are driving back to the farm. The sun is us just beginning to brighten our trip home. We’re both tired and still a little bit high from all the beer we imbibed while scouting out the “Globe and Anchor” bar and all of the hot Marines celebrating the weekend inside of the smoky room.
“Scott, I say, the next opportunity we have for a pull over, I want to go back and check on our two new male cows…I think I need to release the young Corporal’s boots from the hogtie and get some circulation back into his legs.”
“Right Master…we don’t want injured bulls now do we?”
“No, indeed we do not.”
I spot what looks like an unused side road, just off the main highway and pull the paddy wagon onto the bumpy dirt road just far enough so that we can’t be spotted from the main drag. I turn off the engine, leave the front seat and go to the side door of the wagon, grip the handle and slide the door open. I can see that both of our two guests are awake and struggling in their bondage. I kneel next to the young Corporal to untie his boots from his hands and ease both boot toes down to the carpeted floor then massage both legs starting with his strong calves the work my way up his thighs massaging to get the circulation flowing again. I push him over on his side to examine his body and use my hands to rub his upper arms to get the circulation going there also.
He’s mumbling into his gag attempting to say something to me, his blood shot eyes staring straight into mine, his thick straight brown eyebrows up, the ends of both almost touching to form a question mark, so being the curious soul that I am, I rip the tape from his head and pull out his bandanna gag. I can see that he’s trying to get his salivary glands working again to put out some spit to moisten his mouth walls Those intense brown eyes are pleading with unspoken words trying to communicate with me and finally speaks. “Sergeant…I really need to take a leak…can you help me out??
“Sure, I can help you out Corporal…let me get this big hog of your out and see what I can do.”
I straighten his legs so that he’s lying flat on his back, unzip his jeans and fish out his sleeping dick, lower my face to his crotch and lock my lips around the large mushroom head while stroking the underside of his piece with my tongue to encourage his bladder to release its storage of clear yellow piss. I can feel his stomach muscles relax against my face as I pull him over on his side and start receiving his warm piss into my willing mouth cavity. It starts in spurts then begins to deliver near tasteless beer piss into my gullet as I swallow, some of it leaking down the side of my cheek and down my neck. It takes about two minutes to drain him completely and since I have his cock in my mouth I close my fist around his fuck pole and begin to masturbate to get him hard and suck at the same time, bringing his Marine Corps dick to full hardness. He’s moaning and shoving his dick down to the back of my throat saying to me as I continue to suck, “Oh yeah man…go after my baby batter…suck me dry…drink me down man, drink me down…Oh SHIT…FUCK..SHIT I’m Cumming…IM CUMMING…AAHHH…AAHHH…AAHHH!”
I have a mouth full of this young Marine’s warm cum and hold it in my mouth savoring the taste before swallowing all of it down, filling my stomach with his straight manly gift to me. I push his deflated dick back into his jeans and zip him back up.
“If you promise to keep your mouth shut Corporal I won’t gag you again, but if I hear one peep out of you, back in it goes…do you understand?”
“Yes, Sergeant…I’ll keep my mouth shut if you leave that gag out.”
“Good”
I kneel next to Sergeant Miller and look him over, since I didn’t really get a chance to eye ball him from head to toe when Scott led, almost carried him out of the bar. Damn, he’s one hot straight masculine dude. I can see the gold wedding band on his third finger left hand and that
knowledge goes straight to my nuts and my stiffing cock.
Sergeant Miller is not gagged but he is not saying anything. I know that he watched me drink down the Corporals beer piss and suck him off. His eyes are working me over big time then he speaks, “You gonna do the same thing to me…drink my piss, suck my cock?”
“Is that what you want Sergeant Miller…you want me to service you too?”
“Fuck no, you goddamn queer…you touch me and I’ll kill your perverted ass!”
“I don’t think so Hank…I seem to have the upper hand here…you won’t be killing anyone today or ever.” “I’m going to take all of that straight Marine Corps cum outta your nuts and sell it…you’re nothing to me but a way to put some bucks in the bank, so just relax and enjoy the ride ahead of you…all of that spunk belongs to me now.”
I can see the fire in his eyes as he pulls at the handcuffs behind his back, digs his boot heels into the carpeted floor attempting to rise with nothing but wasted effort.
I lay on the deck of the wagon, my body facing his. I can smell his straight manliness, his sweat and the drying piss stain he has over his crotch bulge. I grab his hard ass in both hands and pull his body even closer to mine and at the same time, force my tongue into his resisting mouth to taste the booze and cigarette tar left on the top of his tongue. He attempts to jerk his head away from my face, but my hands come up to grip the back of his head and continue to invade his mouth. Whereas the Corporal is a young man, Sergeant Miller is all man, a force to be reckoned with. He’s a lot like Scott, mature, hairy and hot and as you know dear readers I cannot resist a real straight dude who is developed, masculine and sure of himself, and this man we have captured is all of those things. He’s a meal waiting to be served and there are a lot of gay men who are ready to sit down to the table and consume his cum offering, including me.
Oh, what the hell, might as well go ahead and get a taste of this straight bull’s dick and asshole, even give him his first male to male encounter starting with his ripe Marine butt. I simply take my time to savor the offering I have tied before me. His black and tan cowboy boots with rounded toe and high underslung heels seems to be a good place to start my exploration, so down I go to his booted feet. You already know that I’m a boot man since forever and his size twelves are calling to me. I pull both of his boots together and rub my face on the soft black leather inhaling the heady leather fragrance coming from boots that have been worn for many hours, then pull both boots from his feet his white sweat socks are damp and fragrant, not an unpleasant smell, but one of bleach and soap, his boot leather is warm and tasty as I swab my tongue over the entire surface of each cowboy boot including, holding one boot top over my face to inhale his straight, masculine scent The Sergeant is watching me down at his feet handling his sock covered feet as I pull a damp sock from his feet, cover my face with it then turn my attention to his naked feet. The tops of his toes are sparsely haired and his nails straight are attended to. They smell all male and feel warm and inviting to me so I lick the soles of both, work my tongue between each toe, taking one the another into my mouth to taste the straight Marine I have taken prisoner. He’s scowling down at me as I fulfill my desire to taste the entire man.
“Why don’t you leave my feet alone and come up here drink my piss like you did to the Corporal…I’m full of piss and ready to go and my nuts are full of USDA Prime AAA Marine cum, a full meal fit for a queer like you.”
As much as I love the taste of everything a straight man has to offer to a gay man and fully intend to take anything I want from this arrogant asshole, his words struck that cord that we all have that tells us when another has trespassed into forbidden territory and I have to correct his attitude now, or he will take his insulting comments to another level unless I stop it here and now.
“Well Hank, you just crossed the line into forbidden territory…you think because you’re a straight dude you can say anything you want to a man you feel is inferior to you…well, my friend that was the wrong fork in the road for you to take because I could off you right now and dump your useless ass into the woods and you wouldn’t be found for weeks or even months, but I have another idea in mind for you this bright and beautiful morning, I’m going to rip your no good fucking asshole to pieces…no lube, no foreplay, just my big eight incher up your bum digging into your guts…see what a big man you are when blood starts running out of your ruined butt hole…see who is the top man then!”
“You don’t scare me queer boy, I’m a real man and you are not…so do your worst…I don’t fucking care!”
“Thanks for the invite Hank…I’m going to take you to a place you never in your wildest dreams thought you could be and here it comes ass wipe!”
I yank his jeans down to his boot tops, release my already hard and throbbing thick eight inches, crawl on top of his unwilling body, position my dick head at the gate to his straight kingdom and ram my fuck pole all the way up his shitter until my balls are hitting his hairy nuts and begin a relentless pounding of his ungreased butt channel.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! AAHHH GOD DAMN…AAHHH GOD DAMN! You’re tearing me apart…AAHHH! Get off of me! GET OFF OF ME!”
I’m riding his ungreased ass like I’m riding a bucking bull, slapping the back of his head with my open palm, pushing his cuffed hands up his back toward his shoulder blades and continue to fuck and slap until I feel my balls draw up next to my body and my throbbing dick begin to fire volley after volley of my hot sperm into his straight ass channel, finally draining my balls and pull out quickly, dismount, grab his chin, force his mouth open with my two thumbs and push my cum covered dick shaft with steaks of blood and specks of shit from his ruined butt hole into his mouth. “Clean me off mother fucker if you want to live out the rest of the day!”
I can feel his warm mouth close around my man pole and begin to suck his destroyed asshole off of my still hard member. He’s saying nothing, but how could he with my ram rod all the way down his throat.
The enclosed cabin of my wagon is filled with the scent of freshly fucked ass, sweat, piss and leather. The Corporal is wide eyed as he watches me pull up my jeans, stuff my deflating cock back inside my jeans, and speaks, “Wow! Sergeant…that was quite a show…is anyone else going to get the chance to ride that bucking bronc?”
I look him over, seeing a new side of his personality and say, “You want some of that ass son?” He looks over at Sergeant Miller who is silent and says, “Yeah, maybe…sure looks like you had yourself a good time ripping him a new asshole.”
“We’ll see how you feel once we get you back to the farm, shaved down and milked twice a day.” And with that I take the rope used to hogtie the Corporal and use it to tie the Sergeants boots together and bring them back to rest on his bare ass cheeks and attach his boots to his cuffed hands, stuff the green bandanna I used on the Corporal into the Sergeant’s mouth, wind tape around his head, tear it off.
I reposition the Corporal dragging him into the Sergeant’s crotch, “Open up Trent, I have something you might enjoy.” I force his mouth open and pull Hank’s dick forward and into Trent’s mouth saying as I open the sliding door, “If you gotta piss Hank, this would be a good time…The Corporal looks thirsty.
I see the startled look on the Corporal’s face as Hank begins to unload his piss tank down Trent’s throat. He swallows, gulping down the warm stream until it stops, but keeps his mouth locked around the Sergeant’s fuck pole, nursing on it like a baby nurses his mom’s nipple. He looks content as I exit the wagon and climb back in the front seat and start the engine. Scott is looking at me with a questioning expression and says, “How are they doing Master?” “Actually, they are both a little worse for the wear, but I think we have two winners here for the farm.
We finally arrive at the gate of our dairy farm and cause the gate to slide open slowly. I drive up to the barracks and park, we both get out and go to the side door, open and survey the interior. The Corporal still has the Sergeant’s dick in his mouth although it has gone into sleeping mode. We untie the Sergeant’s boots and pull the Corporals mouth off of the dick he’s been sucking, drag both out of the wagon and walk them into the barracks where all of our Marine and Air Force bulls are laying spread-eagled naked on their backs. We guide first the Sergeant to one of the unused bunks, fasten a shock collar around his neck, tell him what will happen if he doesn’t cooperate and reach for one of the remotes and hit the red button sending the Sergeant down on his knees. “Stand up Hank…I’m going to remove your handcuffs, but if you misbehave you ‘ll get another shock.”
He says nothing as I strip him of his clothes starting with his cowboy shirt and undershirt, then unbuckle his rodeo belt, unzip his jeans, slide them down to his boots, push him down on his bunk, kneel and remove his cowboy boots and socks, then his jeans and boxer underwear.
“Lay back and spread-eagle Hank.” He does and I tie his hands and feet to each corner of the bed frame.”
“You’re next Trent…strip!
He begins to unbutton his cowboy shirt as I fasten a shock collar around his young neck. He continues to strip and is finally standing in front of me completely naked. Holding the tops of his boots in his hands, I take them from him and sit the them down next to his bunk. “Spread-eagle boy which he does quickly. I tie his hands and feet to each corner of the bunk frame until he’s totally secured.
In the meantime, Scott has returned with the electric clippers and is working on the Sergeant to remove the large patch of dark pubic hair that is all around his dick and balls, then goes over to Trent and does the same until both men are shaved clean and ready for the milking shed, but that will happen later today when we milk all of the herd.
We leave the barracks and walk back to the house. When we arrive in the living room the screen is showing a police car marked County Sheriff and a lone Sheriff standing in front of the gate speaking into the phone at the gate, “Howdy…this is Sheriff Caulfield and I need to come inside and talk with the owner.”
The television screen shows a man in his early forties somewhere in the neighborhood of six feet five inches, two hundred and fifty pounds or so. Tan uniform with narrow dark blue stripes down the outside of each trouser leg, light brown cowboy boots with rounded toes and underslung three-inch heels, cream colored Stetson cowboy hat shading a very handsome face. He has high cheek bones, square jawline, round lips with a thin dark mustache over his top lip. He has that ruggedly handsome face you’d expect to see on a frontier Marshal. Around his waist is a wide weave black leather cop duty belt and holster that is strapped to his leg and of course, a nickel -plated Smith and Weston pistol locked into the holster.
I pick up the phone and speak to him saying, “Howdy Sheriff…how can I help you?” “Are you the owner of this place?” “Yes, sir I am…I’m former Marine Staff Sergeant Collins and this is our new storage facility…we purchase and sell valuable antiques to dealers all over the country.”
“Me and my partner former Sergeant Scott O’Connor just finished up our enlistment and purchased this place a few months ago.”
“Is that so…that’s why you have this high electrified fence around the compound.”
“Yes, sir, that is the reason…do you want to come inside and have a cup of coffee with me?”
“Yeah, I’d like that”
“Good, then I’ll open the gate…see you in a few minutes.”
I throw the switch that opens the gate and stand on the front porch awaiting his arrival, which he does in a manner of minutes, parks and steps out of his car and walks toward me on the front porch.
This hot Sheriff is going commando in his tan police trousers. I can see his dick move with each step he takes. It’s easy to see that he has an unleashed hog lounging around under the tan fabric of his trousers, the head of his dick noticeable even to a half blind man.
He mounts the several steps up to my porch and extends his hand toward me and speaks, “Sheriff Preacher Caulfield here and who might you be sir?” I take the hand proffered and grasp it squeezing and shake it. “Sergeant Master Collins Sheriff…glad to meet you.” “Likewise, Sergeant Collins, glad to meet you.”
I ask him to follow me inside the house. “I have a fresh brewed pot of coffee Sheriff, how do you take yours?”
“I take it strong and sweet.”
I watch him sit down on the large comfortable dark blue sofa opposite the fireplace, remove his hat and place it on the table next to him, he has a similar high-n-tight haircut and I assume that he is a former Marine. He raises a booted foot and places it on the top of his knee, moves it around like he’s exercising his ankles, causing a quiet leather sound to echo throughout the room then puts his right hand over the arch of the boot, squeezes as if he’s playing with the soft leather. I return from the kitchen and put his mug of coffee down on the table in front of the sofa. He takes and raises it, lips together blowing over the surface of the hot brew, cools it to take a sip. I sit down on the matching blue side chair opposite to him and sip my own coffee waiting for him to speak.
“You know, the reason I stopped by is that I heard that someone had purchased the old dairy farm and I wanted to swing by and say hello…so hello.” He says as a large grin unfolds on his lips. “Is that long building the one you are going to store the antiques in?”
“Yes, however, we’re still waiting for our first shipment from New York…should be here in a day or so.” I say.
“I see, so everything is all good here then?”
“Yes Preacher…all is well here, no problems to report, just a few gophers now and then tunnel under the fence…but nothing serious.”
“Good to hear Master Collins…good to hear…that’s quite an unusual handle you got there, Master, how did you come by that name?”
“I guess my mother had a sense of humor naming me Master…something she probably got out of some book she read.”
“Well, it does conjure up some interesting ideas at that, you know, Master and slave, that sorta thing,” he says grinning as he relaxes a bit and sips his coffee.
“Yeah, I guess you could be right about that, but I never considered it before you brought it up.’
“Maybe I just watch too much porn these days, Master and slave kind of porn you know?”
“Oh…you mean male Masters and slave women then?
“Yeah, that too…but you know the gay guys have it all figured out. Masters with toned and worked out bodies…lots of leather harnesses, leather chaps and boots…yeah, they got it all figured out…some of that whipping seems real to me, especially when you see bright red welts coming up on the slave’s ass and back.”
“Yeah, lot of that is happening on in the internet I guess.”
He stands up briefly and removes a pair of nickel plated handcuffs from their holder on his duty belt and puts them down on the table in front of him next to his coffee saying, “These come in handy when you have to restrain a rowdy drunk or whatever.”
“Yeah, I bet they do…how often do you have occasion to use them?”
“Not that often, but there’s just something sexy as fuck about having them hang from your duty belt…you know, there if you have to use them.”
“You’re right Sheriff, they are sexy as hell when you look at it that way.”
“You ever been in a pair of these before Master Collins?”
“I can’t say that I have ever been handcuffed before.”
I attempt to change the subject, “What brand of cowboy boot you got there Sheriff”
“Oh, they’re Tony Lomas, what you wearing?” he says pointing to my boots.
““Mine are Tony Lamas too… we seem to have the same taste in boots.”
“Sure, looks that way Master Collins…sure looks that way…I wonder what else we might have in common?”
“You never know Preacher…and by the way, have you ever been handcuffed, you know, lost the battle of wills and became the victim?”
“No, I never have had these fuckers on my wrists, at least not yet, except at Police Academy during training, but never during a scene.” He says playing with them causing a metal clinking sound in the room.
“Ah, during a scene?”
“No, not yet anyway.”
“I notice a wedding band on your finger…so how long you been married?”
“We got hitched a month before I finished up my contract with the Corps…that’s been three years.”
“Interesting”, I say, standing up and moving to the sofa to sit down next to him. I drop my hand down on his knee and feel the heat of his body under my palm. The Sheriff takes a deep breath and slumps to the back cushion of the sofa, his legs relaxed and spread wide. I’m looking him over paying special attention to the tenting activity in his crotch. His eyes lock with mine then he looks down to his crotch smiling a disarming smile if I ever saw one.
“You want that big cock don’t you Master he says, sitting up a little, to reach out to the coffee table and picks up his handcuffs, dangles them in front of me, encouraging me to take them from his hand, which I do.
“Stand up Preacher and put your hands behind your back and remember this is what you wanted.”
“Yes, sir, this is what I want Sergeant.”
I take the handcuffs from his hand, grasp his shoulder and turn him around, pull both hands behind his back and cuff them. The excitement in his eyes tells me to proceed. His mouth is slightly open and his breath is coming in sharp gasps as he surrenders himself to me.
Scott walks into the living room with the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face, licking his lips as he approaches me saying, “What the FUCK Master?” “Now what?”
“We got ourselves a new police slave Scott, one who craves some harsh training…is that correct Sheriff?”
“Yes sir, I need it, need it really bad!”
I stand in front of the secured officer and hawk a wad of spit to his forehead and watch it run down his nose and over the mustache over his upper lip. He puts his tongue out to catch as much of my spit as he can. I pry open his mouth and hawk another wad of my spit into his hungry mouth.
“I think we need to get the Sheriff up on our Saint Andrews Cross and give him a taste of my bull whip…see how many crazy patterns I can make on his back and ass.”
He opens his mouth and begins to speak as I draw back my right hand and open palm slap his face back and forth several times. “You speak when I give you permission to speak asshole…you understand that slave?”
He nods his head, not saying a word as I reach down and grab his inflating cock through his uniform trousers, unzip, reach in and pull out one of the most beautiful nine inch uncut cocks I have ever seen. The hood is drawing back to reveal a large shiny mushroom head with a wide piss slit that is leaking pre-cum down the shaft.
“You off this weekend or do you have to go back to work today?”
“I’m off until Monday evening Master…I checked out before I came up here.”
“Good slave boy…I have something very interesting to show you in our antique barn.”
Chapter 12 -Sheriff Caulfield becomes a co-conspirator and slave to Sergeant Collins. Wealthy gay Arab Sheiks want to purchase a whole Marine, not just his cum. Who will be the first to be sold into slavery?
