Dieter and the two goons from the corner escorted us from the room, my hand constantly brushing against Lieutenant Brown's swinging dick as we none too gracefully made our way out of the main house, across the lawn and into the converted barn. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to keep Old Snake under control, but the sensation of the lieutenant's hefty endowment swaying against my sweat drenched hand was undeniable.
Back at the cellblock, I was roughly shoved into the cell from which I had been taken, L.T. wincing in pain as his cock and balls were unexpectedly pulled from his groin by the handcuffs around my wrist. As he followed me into the small cubicle, the metal hinges screeched shut and the door locked.
Dieter's grin oozed malice as he stared at L.T.'s crotch. "I recommend you get some sleep. You got a busy day coming up." His lips pursed into a mock kiss, "Pleasant dreams, fuckheads." The two flunkies followed him as he exited, slamming the large wooden door behind them.
"Sir," I rasped, looking at L.T.'s bruised face, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that push." I glimpsed down at the chrome cuffs. "Are you alright?"
L.T. grinned ruefully, his bruised lips causing obvious discomfort, "Don't sweat the small stuff, Sarge."
"Begging the Lieutenant's pardon," I began, gesturing with my cuffed hand to the thick cockmeat lying on his thigh, "but that's a damn site more than 'small stuff'."
L.T.'s grin widened, again causing him to wince as his split lip began to ooze a fresh trickle of bright red blood.
The commotion of our entrance apparently awoke Ski, who arose from a dozing sleep on the concrete floor of the adjoining cell. His face, still etched with concern, brightened somewhat on seeing Lieutenant Brown and me. "Shit," he whispered, "am I ever glad to see you two." He rubbed a hairy hand over his eyes as if to convince himself we really existed. "I didn't know what to expect when they dragged Sarge outta here." Then, upon noticing L.T.'s battered face and lip, his expression clouded over again. "Lieutenant, are you okay?"
L.T. and I looked at each other and smiled. Turning back to Ski's worried expression, L.T. nodded his head, "That issue's been addressed, Private. Takes a helluva lot more than a pussy whipping to put a grunt down." Reaching through the bars of the cell, he grabbed Ski's beefy shoulder. "But, thanks for the concern, man." Then, looking around at the sleeping men in the darkened cells, added, "Now, I think we'd better join our cohorts and try to get some sleep."
Glancing at the handcuffs around his manhood, he looked directly into my eyes. "Sarge, I sure as hell hope you're not a fitful sleeper." Grinning slightly, we eased our way down, as carefully as possible, to a lying position on the cold, hard floor.
I felt my eyes had barely closed before I was jolted awake by a loud clanging. I looked up to see Dieter strutting down the aisle between the cages, dragging a nightstick over the bars. His booming voice echoed in the sparse chamber. "It's oh-six-hundred. Get 'em up, get 'em UP, GET 'EM UP!!"
As L.T. and I stood in unison to prevent any unnecessary pulling of the cuffs around his hefty package, Dieter continued his way to the far end of the room. "Assume the position, fuckheads...let's see how they're hangin' this morning."
It was readily apparent that this was a daily morning ritual. Each man stood at parade rest, hands crossed on his butt, feet spread, with cock and balls pressed through the bars at the front of their cells. Dieter stood at the end of the row and looked out at the series of cocks, some semi-turgid, others dangling limply, and a few with a rock-solid morning hard on. And all encircled with the cursed electronic cockring.
I watched, with building anger and frustration, as Higgins and Jessen joined in the formation. Johnson, apparently forgetting the lesson from the previous evening, spat on the floor outside his cell and turned to Dieter. "You honky mutherfucker. You get off on dick so much, how's about plantin' yer lips and kissin' it g'morning." I closed my eyes and braced myself, knowing what was to come next, as Dieter raised his right hand, the now familiar control box in his palm, and punched several buttons with his thumb. I heard a strangled scream and opened my eyes to see, not Johnson, but Ski doubled over on the floor in the adjoining cell, clutching at his crotch.
My jaws clenched as I looked over to see Dieter with a smile of sadistic evil on his face. "Now, then, asswipe," he began, sneering at Johnson's shocked expression, "you gonna get with the program, or do we fry some more eggs for breakfast?"
Johnson, obviously shaken, assumed parade rest with the others, his thick, black tubesteak jutting between the bars. He looked over at Ski, who was also starting to stand back up. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry. Jeez, man. . ."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" Dieter roared.
The message was clearly sent. Infractions were to be paid at another's expense. It was one thing to put yourself at risk; but simply unacceptable, however motivated, to cause another to suffer for your actions. L.T. and I moved to the front of the cell and joined the other men, my left wrist squeezed through the narrow bars alongside his massive meat. In this position, my left arm pressed against his body, and I could feel his muscles tensed; although, outwardly, he showed no emotion.
Dieter made his way up the row of cells, tweaking some of the protruding cocks, tapping others with the nightstick. Upon coming to Johnson, he stopped. Grabbing the thick, black meat in his fist, he pulled sharply, forcing the wincing black man's body to press harder against the bars in front of him. "Think you got some balls . . . cajones . . . huh?" His eyes glinted in evil amusement as he tapped at Johnson's nutsack with the nightstick. "Well, you better enjoy 'em while you still can, boy …" The handsome black man gritted his teeth as the tapping on his jewels became more forceful. "Ya see," Dieter brought the nightstick under Johnson's chin, looking into the man's frightened but defiant face, "Mr. Peck's got an order for a nigger eunuch."
Johnson's eyes flashed at the hated epithet, bringing a sharp chortle from Dieter who brought the nightstick down again, only to swing it crushing into the man's large, vulnerable nuts. "You won't be needing those much longer." Johnson sank to his knees, a horrible gurgling escaping from his throat, as Dieter laughed. "I think you'll fill the bill just fine."
My stomach turned, partly from the sadistic display I had just witnessed, but also because I realized that Dieter was, in all probability, stating fact. Peck was certainly not averse to hacking off a man's balls if it would be to his financial advantage.
L.T.'s body was like a tightly wound spring against my arm, but still he gave no overt sign of what was going on inside his head. He continued to stare forward as Dieter resumed his way up toward our cell, stopping briefly to give a painful twist on Ski's left nipple. Ski's only response was a visible clenching of his jaw muscles. Dieter grinned slightly. "Tough guy, huh?" Ski remained silent, watching the hulking man in black warily as he moved on to stand directly in front of L.T. and me.
Sliding the nightstick under the lieutenant's sizable prick, Dieter bounced it a few times before holding it up on the polished wooden shaft. "Anybody ever tell you you're a freak of nature, big man?" He stared at L.T.'s massive member, unconsciously licking his lips, his jaw jutted out. Hefting it a couple more times, he let the dick flop heavily over the bulging nutsack, then slid the tip of the nightstick slowly up L.T.'s hairy abs and chest before bringing it to rest under his chin. L.T. fixed his eyes directly ahead as Dieter, with a slight sneer, studied his face. "Wanna know what I think?" He whispered conspiratorially, forcing L.T.'s chin up with the nightstick. "I think your momma was into screwing horses." Dieter's sneer broadened, his eyes glinting. "I think she spawned you after getting horse fucked. Am I right?" He was taunting, trying to elicit a reaction. And I couldn't help but notice the cylindrical bulge extending down the left thigh of his black trousers.
Dieter traced the wooden nightstick along Lieutenant Brown's square jaw and up to his lips before L.T. twisted his head away from the prodding rod. "Not into sucking, huh?" Dieter's voice was low. "Maybe you prefer it in the other end." He looked briefly at me before turning back to the lieutenant. "You didn't seem to have any complaints when your fuckbuddy here plowed your south forty."
My face burned red hot in humiliation and shame as a quizzical expression briefly flashed across L.T.'s face. I glowered at the hulking sadist. "You god damned son of a bitch." The words came slow and clipped.
Dieter turned his attention back to me, obviously enjoying himself. "Oh, c'mon. You can't tell me last night's little forest fuck session was the first time?" Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, he looked back at L.T. who lowered his head, now staring at the floor. "The sergeant here had one helluva good time cornholing your ass. Couldn't seem to get enough." He brought the nightstick back under L.T.'s chin forcing his head up to stare eye to eye. "My men and I, we enjoyed the show." His evil grin cracked across his face like a fissure. "We're all anxious for an encore. Maybe Mr. Peck should offer you as a team." He reached down to grope at the protuberance at his thigh. "God damn, wouldn't that be worth a bundle. The freak and his fuckbuddy. God DAMN!".
Dieter went to the heavy wooden door at the entrance of the cellblock and opened it, gesturing to the waiting guards on the other side.
I looked at Lieutenant Brown and swallowed hard. My heart felt like a lead weight in my chest. "Sir, about last night. I . . ."
He turned to face me, cutting me off in midsentence. "It's a non-issue, Sergeant." His words were quiet, reassuring. "It will not be addressed again." My respect and admiration for this man continued to grow. "You just refrain from yanking my chain," he nodded to the handcuffs which tethered us, "and we'll get through this." The corner of his mouth curled in a crooked half grin.
At that point, the guards entered the cellblock, one coming to stand at the front of each cage. On a signal from Dieter, they unlocked the cell doors and escorted the captives out, starting from the rear of the room and leaving L.T. and me to pull up the rear.
We were marched to a small field behind the barn-like structure where we were placed at attention and permitted to drain our bladders. Dieter stood in front of the last to finish, a husky, red haired Irishman who had some difficulty pissing with his morning hard on.
Dieter opened the fly of his black uniform trousers as he forced the man to his knees in the muddy puddle he had just created. "Looks like you're it, Red," he grinned, as he hauled out his corpulent prick. The rest of us stood at attention and watched as the kneeling man closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, the copper colored fur on his chest and shoulders glowing in the morning sun.
With one hand holding his cockmeat and the other pulling the irishman's head back by the hair, Dieter suddenly let flow a stream of vile yellow urine into the man's mouth and over his face. "Drink it down, maggot!" He chuckled as the man swallowed as much as he could, the rest dripping from his chin and soaking the chestnut pelt on his burly pecs. The stream slowed and finally ended, and Dieter nonchalantly replaced his fat dick in his pants, readjusted himself, and kicked at the man's balls. "Stand the fuck back up."
As the humiliated man struggled back to his feet, coughing and sputtering, Dieter strode up and down the line, hands clasped behind his back. "For you new fucks, consider this another lesson." He studied us with a scowl on his face. "DON'T be the last one." He stopped in front of Johnson. "You do what you're told, WHEN you're told." He hefted Johnson's bruised, black nutsack in his palm, the ebony cock resting on his wrist and forearm. Johnson stared blankly ahead as Dieter's lips brushed his right ear. "Or there'll be hell to pay." He closed his hand, squeezing the already tender balls in a tight fist. The sadistic grin returned as he watched Johnson's face scrunch up in pain.
With a final yank, he released the tortured testicles and gestured to one of the flunkies. "Clean 'em up." At that, we were hosed down with a spray of frigid water as we maintained the position of attention. My ballsack shriveled as my nuts attempted to retreat upward to escape the icy onslaught. Old Snake, with nowhere to run, hung exposed in limp defeat. After a thorough drenching from the front, the hose was brought to our rear, and the process repeated.
All the while, Dieter stood with his massive arms crossed over his barrel chest, a smirk on his face. Suddenly, he brought his hands to his hips and barked, "All right, ladies! Grab your ankles!"
I slowly and carefully bent forward, trying not to pull on the handcuff around L.T.'s manhood. I steadied myself with my right hand on my right ankle, the left wrist held out to the lieutenant's groin. The flow of water was adjusted to a forceful stream as the grinning henchman aimed it in turn at each man's exposed and puckered asshole. I almost lost my awkward balance as the liquid pressured its way past my rectal sphincter. I gritted my teeth as the water splashed up my back and ran in streams over my shrunken nutsack and dripped from the head of Old Snake.
I heard a low gasp from L.T. as the hose was redirected from my ass to his, and my left arm was soaked as I held it, with growing discomfort, out between his legs. After L.T., who was at the end of the row of men, the water was shut off, and Dieter strutted up to stand directly in front of me, his crotch an inch from my face. He seized a handful of the short hair on my head and pulled, burying my nose and mouth in his crotch. "You took your own sweet time bending down, didn't you fuckface?" I had a hard time breathing with my face pressed against the heavy fabric. "I fuckin' TOLD you, asshole, not to be the last one." With his free hand he snapped his fingers, and one of the flunkies came over. Dieter pulled my hair, forcing me to look up, as the guard handed him a large, nodular dildo. He grinned as he brought it down for me to inspect. "You win the honor of wearing this today."
L.T., apparently having had enough, stood erect, now eye to eye with Dieter. "You sonuvabitch! Leave him alone," he growled.
The next series of events happened with lightning speed. I watched as Dieter's face lit up with amusement. He released my hair, reached into his pocket, withdrew the control box, and rapidly pressed a few buttons. I fell to the ground as the electric fire seared my groin. My hands pulled instinctively to protect myself, the left arm meeting resistance from the handcuffs attached to L.T., who gasped and fell to his knees as his balls were wrenched away from his body.
"Okay, big man," Dieter began. He handed the control box to the guard who held it menacingly outward, thumb poised over the buttons. "I'll leave him alone. Today YOU get the honors." Saying this, he pushed L.T.'s head down with one hand while prodding the thick, dummy cock at his asshole.
L.T. grunted loudly as the plastic prick slid relentlessly past his asshole all the way to the flared base. Dieter stepped back, taking the control box back from his black clad flunky. He looked down the row of men still doubled over from the ass washing. "Ten-HUT!" he snapped.
I glanced over at L.T. as we stood, his face hard, his eyes blazing with ire. His jaw muscles clenched from the discomfort of the intruder in his guts.
Dieter stood with his face only inches from L.T.'s. "You will leave that fuckpole in place until I say to remove it." His eyes gleamed with sadistic enjoyment. He nodded his head in my direction. "Or Sarge, here, pays for it." His sneer widened as he looked at the handcuff around the brawny lieutenant's pendulous balls, "Of course, that'll probably mean a little agony for you, too, now won't it?" A deep, vile laugh erupted from his chest as he walked away. Then, passing by one of the guards on his way toward the farmhouse, he nodded his head in our direction. "Put 'em to work."
