I have to admit to myself and to anyone else who is listening, that this unbelievably hot Sheriff who has just given himself to me is like Christmas in July. I haven’t even unwrapped this present yet but my salivary glands are working overtime, my mouth is as moist and watery as it has ever been. Preacher Caulfield is straight or so the wedding ring on his left hand is telling me, but I haven’t figured him out yet, but I will.
He looks like any ruggedly handsome cowboy lawman you’d see on an old television western. Everything about him screams straight cop, his swagger, self-confidence, his speech, even his body odor says straight dude. Those size thirteen Tony Loma boots are exactly the boots a straight lawman would choose. He stands before me, his hands cuffed behind his back with his own handcuffs, legs spread wide and boots planted firmly on the deck.
I walk around him surveying every inch of his muscular body. My hands at this point have a mind of their own and insist on handling his strong ass, which they do. I stand behind him, feel his cheeks tense up under my touch, then relax, presenting me with two harder than steel ass mounds. Hell, this is the kind of ass that could squeeze an orange easily, draining all the juice from the fruit. He’s a natural born slave desperately seeking a master and bingo, he found one. I imagine he tried at some point to get his wife to tie him up and whip him, but chances are she was having none of that. So, he occupied his time searching the internet looking for porn he could jack off to. Probably gay slave and master porn. More likely than not, roped his boots together, legs stretched out in front of him, so he could look at his bound feet while pounding out a healthy handful of his cum which he likely licked from his palm.
“You ever been fucked slave?”
“No master, but I have used my wife’s dildo vibrator.”
“Did you like having that up your ass?”
“Yes, master, but I would rather have a big dick like yours up there instead.”
“Well, I do have a big dick and it loves to get inside a straight ass like yours and have some fun.”
“Yes, master, I want your big cock up my ass.”
I sit down on the sofa and put my boots up crossed at the ankle on the coffee table and say, “Get down on your knees copper and make love to my boot leather until I tell you to stop.”
He quickly goes down on his knees, his hands cuffed behind his back, he leans in and starts kissing and licking my tan cowboy boots. I watch this tall muscular County Sheriff in his cop uniform rubbing his face over my smooth tan leather. He looks like a dog down at his master’s feet. I take my boots away from his face and use one to strike him in the middle of his chest sending him sprawling down to the deck on his belly saying loudly, “Scott, bring one of those shock collars and fasten it around this cop’s neck”
“Yes sir, I have one right here.” He kneels next to Preacher’s head and fastens the collar around his neck.
“Scott, pull him to his feet and let’s get him to the barracks.”
“Up on your feet big boy.” He says, both of our hands under the cop’s pits pulling him to his feet.
We walk the Sheriff the short distance between our house and the barracks, open a side door and haul our new capture into the belly of the barracks. The lights are off when we enter and I find the light switch and hit it illuminating the long room.
“Holy Shit!” Preacher exclaims as he surveys our six nude spread-eagled military bulls. “What the fuck is this all about Master Collins?”
“What this is all about, is my military dairy farm and our six unwilling straight milk bulls who give up their sperm twice a day for their fun and my profit…in fact, after I strip you down and put you up on the cross and beat the living shit outta you, I’m going to put your cock in one of the machines and milk out all that cum you have stored in those low hanging nuts of yours…in other words Sheriff, you’ve been had.”
“Scott, remove his handcuffs and strip him down but leave his boots on, then I want you to shave his groin area, leaving no pubic hair.”
“Yes sir, I have the clippers right here in my side pocket, thought we might need them again.” He goes to work quickly kneeling in front of the Sheriff handling the stiff rod and heavy nut sack before him and buzzes off all of the pubic hair which falls to the floor around the Sheriff’s boots, then plants a wet sloppy kiss on the head of the dick he’s holding.
I go to the rear wall and remove the four feet black leather bull whip and watch as Scott places Preacher up on the cross his back to us and locks his hands and feet in a spread-eagle position.
I go in front of the free-standing cross holding the whip in my right hand and say to him, “Kiss the whip that is going to make you into a for real cop slave.” He stretches his head forward to kiss the whip, I slap his face twice and hawk a wad of spit on to his face, walk around to stand behind this straight bull, uncoil the whip, raise it above my head, jerk my hand causing a sharp crack to echo throughout the quiet room. I can see him tremble stretched out on the cross, then I start slowly to whip him. The first blows lands on his muscular back. WHACK…WHACK…WHACK…WHACK. I can see the pattern of cross strikes I’m making as I continue flailing away at his back and trembling ass cheeks. WHACK…WHACK…WHACK…WHACK He’s screaming and attempting to get away from my unrelenting whip. WHACK…WHACK…WHACK…WHACK.
“Please Master…please Master. Please Sir…I’ve had enough…PLEASE!”
I drop my whip and stand behind his scarred back and ass put both of my arms around his sweated-up chest, to find each of his erect nips, roll the nub between my thumb and forefinger to squeeze and milk each, pulling them away from his heaving chest. He is sweating in a room that is actually not that hot. There is a slight trickle of blood mixed with his sweat running down his back into his ass crack. I almost feel sorry for him, but not quite, since this is exactly the way I wanted him, and exactly what he wanted.
“Ok Scott, let’s get him milked.”
We work together to get him down from the cross and seated on one of the lubricated vibrating dildos, drop the clear milking tube over his huge deflated cock, forcing it into the soft rubber sleeve and turn on the machine as well as the vibrator. The suction begins as his dick head is pulled to the top of the cylinder, the soft rubber sleeve caressing his fuck stick as the vibrator works on his prostate gland. His dick goes rock hard and pre-cum is sucked out slowly. His head is back and his mouth is open dragging air into his lungs.
“Ahh man, this thing is going to eat my cock off…Oh FUCK…FUCK.SHIT…FUCK…FUCK.’
It takes fifteen minutes of the milking sleeve masturbating his swollen fuck stick and a lot of squirming around on the dildo seat as the machine continues to milk and caress his hard member to pull shot after shot of his white thick cum out of his piss slit into the clear plastic hood attached to his dick head. The cop watches his sperm being sucked up the tube and into the waiting freezer trays inside our zero-degree freezer.
Preacher looks drained, his head slumped forward, his breathing back to normal as I remove the milking cylinder from his spent cock and speak to Scott, “Ok…let’s get him bedded down for the night Scott.” We each take an arm and move him to one of the empty bunks and lay him down on his back, stretch him out and secure him. We both go to the rear of the barracks and open the walk- in freezer. I want to get his sample before it freezes in the ice tray, so I remove the ice tray from the freezer and dump his offering into a small juice glass. I hold the glass up to the light and swish it around inside the glass. We are both amazed at the sheer volume he produced. I put the glass to my lips and right away can smell the potent man cream we pulled out of his balls. I turn the glass up and fill my mouth with the still warm cum, swish it around in my mouth, then grab Scott by the back of his neck, pull his mouth to mine and share the Sheriff’s thick sperm. We both swallow, smacking our lips as It travels down to our stomachs. Scott fetches wool blankets and throws one over each of our guest. We turn off the lights, leave and walk back to the house.
I check out the messages on our secure email and find one from Saudi Arabia. The Prince and son of one of the powerful rich oil Sheiks sent a request for pictures of our milk herd. He explains that a gay friend in the States told him about our operation and he wants to purchase one of our Marines, the whole Marine, not just his cum. Since I have photos of all of our Marines in full battle field dress I forwarded them to him and waited for his response, which came in the matter of minutes. He wants to purchase Corporal O’Connor and doesn’t care about the cost, so I calculate what we would make dollar wise in several years sale of sperm extraction, and come up with a figure that would stop a normal man in his tracks, but this dude is one of the richest men on the planet, so the figure of two million didn’t faze him.
I email him back and ask this question, what are you going to do with this Marine if I do sell him to you? The answer came back faster than you could say…wrap him up, I’ll take him. “First of all, I will have him circumcised and when he recovers he will be taken to my male harem and there he will serve me, as do all of my slaves…I presently have twenty military slaves, some from the UK, some from the French Foreign Legion, but none so far from the States…this US Marine will be my number one slave and will be treated as such…I will use his body in any way that pleases me.”
“Then, you will not harm him in any way?”
“No of course not…how could I harm such a beautiful specimen, he will be part of my “herd” so to speak, and I will take his manly Marine cum straight from the source and when I’m in the mood, he will fuck me and I will fuck him.
I turn to Scott and ask him what he thinks about selling his own son to an Arab Prince and his answer stopped me in my tracks when he spoke, “As long as I get to fuck him good bye, then I’m all in…maybe a new culture will be a good thing for him to experience.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
I email the Prince and tell him that I will send him the information he needs in order to transfer the two million into an LLC that I will form off shore. It doesn’t take long to find a finance attorney who will do my bidding for a price and of course form the LLC, making me the head of the corporation and Scott as my partner. I go to work and get the thing set up. It only takes a couple of days to make the arrangements needed to go forward. A week later the deed is done and I email all of the details to the Prince to set the transfer in motion and make plans for the Prince to fly here in his private jet and take possession of his new Marine slave.
The day arrives and we have Corporal Sean O’Connor dressed in his Cammie uniform and combat boots, his entire body is wrapped in duct tape from his shoulders down his legs to his combats. A gag is taped into his mouth and a soft black leather hood pulled over his head, and laced up the back. He’s ready to be transported to the private jet that the Prince has waiting at a private air field used by those rich enough to afford such a luxury. The Prince’s men arrive and haul Corporal O’Connor away in the back of a limousine headed for the private air field.
The night before Sean was to be taken, both Scott and I had our way with this young Marine stud. We had shots of JD and took turns fucking his tight butt hole most of the evening and watched the sun come up the next morning, knowing what Sean is going to face in his new life.
“Well, Scott…looks like we need some new Marine meat…how do you feel about going shopping again for some more Marines this weekend?”
“Oh, hell Master my dick is already pointing north toward Jacksonville NC and Camp Lejeune, the playground of Marine meat, so I’ll be ready anytime you say.”
“Good to hear boy…good to hear.”
Friday arrives and it’s a beautiful Fall day. We drive our new SUV up the road. We no longer have the Marine Corps paddy wagon to use after our contracts expired and we did not reenlist. So, we’re headed to the “Globe and Anchor” bar on the main highway leading to the Camp Lejeune.
We, arrive at the bar and park in the small parking lot at the rear of the bar and I say to Scott, “Are you excited and ready for the hunt?” He answers, “Take a look at my crotch sir, little Scott ain’t little no more.” He says allowing his hand to move to his crotch bulge and give it a good squeeze.
“No, little Scottie is standing tall, he looks ready to me Sergeant…let’s make a plan before we go in. Here’s what we do, we separate once we’re inside and scope out the candidates. If you spot a good one, just find me and point him out, and I’ll do the same.”
“Got it Sergeant.”
Scott and I enter the smoky bar. The music is as loud as last time, and still country. But this time there are several local gals putting the moves on a couple of horned up drunk Marines off in a dark corner. I can see a heavy-set chick who has her hand inside of a tall strikingly handsome Marine’s zipper playing with his cock, and I’m wondering to myself as I watch, why in the name of sweet Jesus do the hottest Marines always wind up with the ugliest and fattest women. Several Marines have formed a wall of bodies shielding the action as the woman goes down on her knees and pulls his cock out and begins to suck on the throbbing head, and it doesn’t take that long before the young man yells out into the noisy room, “Oh FUCK, here it comes!” and ejaculates down the chick’s throat. She drinks down the warm offering he just gave her and wipes the smeared lipstick with the back of her hand then turns to the young man standing next to her former meal, as he guides her head to his crotch.
I continue to make my way through the cadre of fresh Marine studs, dodging one, and rubbing my body against another. I spot Scott chatting up a young Marine god, a Marine poster boy if I ever saw one. He has his arm around the shoulder of this tall thin young man. We lock eyes briefly as he nods his head in the direction of the young man he’s talking to, indicating his choice, so I make my way over to where they are standing speaking as loud as I can so they can hear me, “How about a couple more Buds?” I say to Scott. He gets close enough to eat my ear right off trying to make himself heard. “This is my choice Sergeant…name is, and don’t laugh, Pfc. Charlie Brown.” He speaks into my ear. “I went to the head with him sir, and he’s hung like a horse or even bigger.” “He’s a babe in the woods sir…doesn’t know shit from shineola.”
I check him out from head to toe. He’s wearing an open to the belly button white dress shirt, big silver rodeo belt buckle and wide brown leather belt with studs, and Double D low heel, rounded toe rancher boots, the kind a working rancher would wear, and they look rough, scared and lived in.
I return with two cold beers, hand one to Charlie Brown who smiles and nods his head in a thank you to me and give the other to Scott who right away uses the cold bottle to rub over the Pfc’s smooth chest causing him to jump back laughing kneeing Scott in his crotch at the same time.
I grab Scott’s neck and pull his ear to my lips and say, “I put one of those handy dandy white pills in his beer…so it won’t be long before we have him.” Scott raises his eye brows in a knowing gesture smiling all the while.
We continue to chat up the young Marine, and I move closer to him using my hands to explore his tight jeans covered ass. He doesn’t seem to object to my aggression so I move one hand to the back of his neck to massage it. His head moves under my touch from side to side as he continues to chug his doctored beer.
“I’m getting a little dizzy, not feeling that good.”
“Let’s get you out into some fresh air, our SUV is out back.”
We make our way through the partying crowd with him between us to the rear entrance and guide him into the parking lot. Scott opens the rear passenger door and we pull the Pfc onto the black leather seat and stretch him out on his stomach. Scott removes the handcuffs he has hidden under the seat and cuffs the boy’s hands over the small of his back, then uses a long piece of rope to encircle the young man’s boots, pulls the rope tight, knots it and pulls the boots up to join his hands. We got him!
I know this Marine must be over twenty-one or the bar wouldn’t serve him, but looking down on this sleeping Prince, he looks like a kid, one who should not be a Marine, not old enough however, he is a Marine. His face is smooth as a baby’s butt, thin lips stretched over perfect white teeth. Almost no beard stubble. Dark brown high-n-tight, and a coltish look about him making him look like a sixteen-year-old high school kid. His breathing is steady with quiet pulls of air into his lungs. I’m sitting down wind from his head, his cowboy boots are almost in my face and I can smell the boot leather his young feet have heated up.
“Scott, you drive us back to the farm…I’m going to stay back here and enjoy this young pony…you said that he’s hung better than a horse and I’m going to find out for myself." I unknot the rope binding his hands to his boots and allow them to go down onto my lap, boot toes first and they land on my stiffing cock. I take both boots in my hands and rub the toes over my now hard dick. It feels good to manipulate his warm boot leather over my leaking cock head. I raise his still roped up boots to my face and inhale as I handle them. If you were passing by this SUV you’d think I was making love to this Marines boot leather, which, I am. But I don’t want to ejaculate in my jock strap before I get a good look at his meat, so I stop.
I push my unconscious Marine over on his side and witness what must be considered the ninth wonder of the world. I can see his larger than normal bunched-up ball sack forming a cushion for one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen on a human, even longer and thicker than the Air Force Major’s. Nothing is stopping me, so I unzip his jeans, reach in and haul out his hairy balls first then the sleeping giant between his legs. The dick, in a sleeping state must measure at least seven or eight inches, and I can only imagine what it’s going to look like fully inflated. I bend forward, both hands holding his ass cheeks and pull his body toward my open mouth. Push my nose into his unzipped jeans I can smell the essence of this young colt. His crotch smells like a man in heat, I can detect the acrid but pleasant odor coming from his ass crack. It smells clean and unused. There is sweat accumulated around his hairy ball sack and in the curly brown pubic hair. The hard space leading from his nuts to his ass hole is also wet with his sweat. I simply pull his cock forward and allow it to lay over his thigh, then kiss the head, licking it, causing it to move around as I chase it around his thigh with my eager tongue, and finally take the head into my mouth and begin to nurse on it. I taste the first offering of pre-cum oozing out of his dick head. There is a piss tang residing within his pre-cum and it tastes damn good to me.
Scott’s beautiful brown eyes are going from the rear-view mirror and then back to the road traffic and says looking over shoulder, “How does he taste Sergeant?” “Damned good.” I say, “He’s got a lot of head cheese inside this hood and I’m cleaning it out.”
“Save a little of that cheese for me sir.”
“No worries…he’s a big producer…I’ll give him to you when we get back home, you hungry fucker!”
During our trip home the young Pfc shoots two big wads of his sperm down my throat and I slack my thirst on his warm beer piss. He’s awake but not saying a word as I continue to handle his eleven-inch dick and heavy nuts, at one point, turning him over to dine on his young Marine butt hole.
We drive up the winding mountain road to our farm. The Pfc is awake saying out loud, “Hey, I need to get back for roll call…where are we?”
Chapter 13 will find the dairy farm in full production. The Sheriff has second thoughts about his situation and has to be dealt with harshly. The Arab Prince makes a house call. The Air Force Major goes on a journey.
