Consciousness returned with a reluctant slowness. Gradually, I became aware of the aching in my body, then of the cramped confines of the barred cage in which I lay. There was an unnatural silence, and I wondered briefly if I had gone deaf until my slight movement in the cell elicited a faint scraping sound. Peering over my shoulder, in the dim light, I looked for L.T., still bound to the "X" in the center of the room. But it was vacant, the straps dangling freely.
I grabbed the bars and pulled myself to a standing position. I was just about to call out for him when, suddenly, the heavy door to the cellblock was pulled open. Through the doorway entered two men, the one in the lead was naked and staggering slightly. On closer inspection, I noticed that he wasn't, in fact, completely naked, but wore a metal ring firmly secured around his cock and balls. It was Berlaski, one of my PFC's, a short, hairy, beefy Pollack. He was followed by one of the black clad guards that I recognized as Larsen, the blonde haired schmuck whose nose I had rearranged out in the field.
As they passed my cell, I leaned closer, my face pressed between two bars. "Ski! What the f..."
"Silence!" Larson roared, the palm of his left hand shoving my face back from the bars. "Your turn's coming soon enough, fuckface." He paused momentarily outside my cell. "And I wanna be right there when it does."
I looked over at Berlaski who glanced back at me, a look of what may have been pleading or fear, or maybe both, shadowing his rugged Polish features. He stopped and opened his mouth to speak. Abruptly, his head was flung back, a guttural scream erupting from his chest as he sank to his knees clutching at his manhood.
"SKI!!" I pressed myself to the bars, as if by sheer force of will I could fit between them. Stunned by seeing one of my men in such inexplicable agony, I barely felt Larsen's grip on my balls until his hot breath washed over my face.
"I said silence," he almost whispered, his face, with its twisted nose only inches from mine. "Disobedience will be punished." He grinned, giving his broken face a grotesque appearance. He raised an object in his right hand for me to see. It resembled a large pocket calculator . . . no, more like a TV remote control. A series of buttons and bars lined its surface. I watched as he punched a couple with his thumb, immediately followed by another coarse shriek from Ski.
"You see that cockring?" Larsen asked casually, nodding to Ski's crumpled form. His voice had a slightly nasal quality due to his restructured nose bones. "Not merely decorative," his grin widened. "But a very effective behavioral tool as well." A chuckle oozed from his throat. "Better living through technology."
I looked back at Ski, still kneeling, doubled over on the cold concrete floor, grasping at his groin. His square face was screwed into a grimace of suffering. I knew him as a man true to his heritage, with a high tolerance for pain. The fucking cockring had to cause excruciating torment for him to respond like this. And, he was a Marine, goddammit!
Larsen released my balls and stepped over to the kneeling captive. "On your feet, you fucking maggot." He pushed the toe of his boot into Ski's asscrack. "Unless you want some more."
Ski struggled to his feet, a look of shame in his eyes, dark and sunken in their sockets. Larsen shoved him sprawling into the open cell adjacent to mine, and swung the door shut with a metallic screech, engaging the lock. It was then that I noticed all the other cells were empty as well. Larsen headed out, pausing momentarily in front of me. He reached out and grabbed my nutsack, twisting once before releasing. "Soon," was all he said, and left, swinging the heavy wooden door closed behind him with a solid thud.
I immediately turned my attention back to Berlaski, lying on the floor of the small cell next to me, his hands still protectively covering his groin. "Ski, what the hell's going on?"
Slowly he brought himself to a half-crouch, his hands on two of the bars that separated our cells. His sizable polish sausage extended over his rounded balls, all the more prominent because of their constricting metal ring. "Sir, it's a nightmare. I can't believe this is really happening." Then, glancing down at his crotch, added, "But, I guess it is."
"What's happened? Where are the other squad members? Have you seen the Lieutenant?" I squatted down to face him, my hands on his as they gripped the bars, a minor reassurance.
His haunted brown eyes stared directly into mine. "We all thought you'd bought it." His eyes narrowed and he glanced away. "I don't mind telling you, Sir, you scared the shit outta me."
I reached my hand through the bars and gripped his meaty shoulder. He swallowed hard and continued. "The four of us, we were surrounded. Didn't hear a thing until I felt the fucking barrel of an M-16 at my back. We were marched back here by some goons in black uniforms." He brought his eyes back to mine. "No sign of you or Lieutenant Brown. We feared the worst."
His face became hard, the eyes cold. "They brought us to this room. Made us strip while they hooted and snorted." He turned his head and spat. "Fucking perverts!"
"When we were all naked, they forced us at gunpoint to bend over and grab our ankles. Said they were looking for weapons, but I think the guy got off on sticking his fingers up our assholes." A slight sarcastic smile curled the edges of his mouth, "Never even offered a cigarette afterwards."
"We were shoved into cells, the doors locked, and the goons left. We tried to talk to the guys in some of the other cells, but they hardly even looked at us." He looked down, running a finger lightly over the metal circle at his groin. "Now I know why."
"Shortly after that, two fuckers came in carrying the stripped lieutenant, and strapped him to that cross." He nodded his head to the wooden "X". "I figured that was a good sign, because if he was already dead, they'da buried 'im in the woods." Again, his eyes burned into mine. "That's why you scared me. We'd heard gunfire as we were being marched here. When L.T. appeared and you didn't, well . . ." He swallowed again, his adam's apple bobbing in his thick neck as he glanced down, suddenly embarrassed.
"So, then, we called to L.T., but he was out cold. I guess that should'a been pretty obvious since he didn't rip himself from those straps and punch out the little fucker that played with his prick." The slight grin was back on the pollack's face. "That L.T.'s hung like a horse, you know that?"
I let out a cough, surprised by the statement, and grinned back. "Uh, yeah. I know."
"Anyway," Ski continued, standing up and walking the meager distance to the other side of his cell, "shortly after that, this gorilla comes in with you over his shoulder and tosses you into that cell." He turned to face me, concern clouding his face. "Sarge, you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "What happened then?"
His face scrunched up, as if it were an effort to remember. "Well, not much later, the gorilla that dumped you there comes back with a group of other men. He goes directly to L.T., releases the straps and throws the unconscious lieutenant over his shoulder like a sack of laundry, while the other goons each go to one of our cells. They unlock the cell doors and haul us out, pushing us ahead of them. We get outside and Lieutenant Brown is carried into that farmhouse while the rest of us are herded into one of the buildings beside the barn."
I stood, stretching my legs which had cramped from squatting, as Berlaski turned away from me and continued his report.
"Inside were a couple cabinets and a large table and that's about it. Sort of reminded me of the infirmary, you know, clinical. We're standing there, still buck naked, wondering just what the fuck was going on. Johnson starts mouthing off to the bastards." Ski turned his head slightly, his back still facing me. "You know how he is."
I nodded, although I knew Ski couldn't see it. Johnson was the only black in the squad. A tall good looking product of the inner city. He was a good Marine, but he had a tendency to shoot his mouth off first and think afterward.
Berlaski reached up to rub his palm over the slightly balding area on the back of his head. "Next thing we know, these other eight guys, the ones that were in the cellblock here with us, they start screaming and grabbing their groins. Some of 'em fell to their knees," Ski's hand moved down to the back of his neck, "one of them pissed right there on the floor. Well, that shut Johnson up. Shut us all up. Then one of the goons holds up this little box for us to see. Says we either do what we're told or else."
He turned back to face me, the look of a trapped animal on his face. "Sarge, those other guys . . . they're brother Marines, most of 'em. We couldn't let 'em suffer. Didn't know right then what was going down, but it had something to do with that box."
I nodded again. "Ski, it's alright. There was nothing you could do."
He walked to the front of his cell, looking out at the vacant cells and the large X in the cellblock. "A couple of the goons hustle Johnson to the table in the middle of the room and force him down on his back while a couple other assholes hold his legs spread apart. Then the fucker with the broken nose . . ."
"Yeah," I said, "Larsen. We've met."
Ski glanced briefly at me with a questioning look before turning back to stare straight ahead. "Well, he goes to a cabinet and pulls out a hinged metal ring. Then he goes over and grabs Johnson by the balls and slips half the open ring underneath. The top half he closes over Johnson's prick and locks it into place, slick as shit. Johnson's cock and balls are trapped in the cockring."
I noticed Ski's hand reach down to his own encircled manhood before he continued. "One by one, Higgins, Jessen and me were all fitted in the same way." He dropped his head to look absently at the floor between his bare feet. "After that's when the fun began."
I leaned against the rear wall, arms folded across my chest, watching the short pollack's muscular back as he stood at his cell door staring out. I felt the guilt of responsibility. He was one of my men; and, whether physically or psychologically, he had been wounded and there was nothing I could do about it. But he was a true Marine and sucked it up, attempting an air of nonchalance as he continued.
"A couple of the goons set up a video camera. Then, what's 'is name . . . Larsen, he says we're to get it up and start beating off. I told the fuckin' pervert where to go as well as a few comments about his mother. That's when I got my first taste of the cockring's capability." He turned to face me, holding the ring around his genitals with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. "This fucker's damned effective, I can tell you that. That guy Larsen, he punches a couple'a buttons on the box and suddenly my cock and balls are on fire. My knees turn to jelly as I feel like my nuts are being ripped from my body." His eyes stared into mine. "Sarge, I ain't never felt anything like that before. I can take what's dished out and ask for seconds, but this . . ." He shook his square head and broke eye contact, again staring at the floor. "That fire stabbed into my guts, into my fucking BRAIN." He paused momentarily, struggling with himself to maintain composure. "I looked up and you can damn well bet that Johnson, Higgins and Jessen were pounding the monkey. Larsen looks at me with a sick grin on his face and says I'd better get with the program as he holds out his hand with the control in it. Well, they can tell all the pollack jokes they want, but I ain't stupid. I get to my feet and start strokin' my dick. All the while, they're videotaping us. Deviate sonsabitches."
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to absorb all that Berlaski was telling me. I knew immediately what the video tape was for. It was a catalogue, a live action brochure to advertise Peck's latest merchandise. My stomach churned and I felt like puking. Marines being sold like cattle to the highest bidder.
Ski turned away again, his muscles rippling like a panther's as he did. "After a few minutes of this, four of the other men were told to suck us off. They knelt before us without hesitation. Obviously. This hairy chested Italian with a "USMC" tattoo on his right arm takes my meat into his mouth and starts suckling like it was his momma's tit. I wanted to apologize to 'im. Tell 'im it was okay. But I didn't dare open my mouth. Not with this fuckin' thing." And, although his back was to me, I could tell Ski was grasping his crotch. Again, he turned his head slightly toward me without actually looking at me. "Sarge, you know I'm no faggot. Fuck, there's nothin' I like better than ballin' some hot chick. But this wop leatherneck had one helluva tongue. I shot my load down his throat, after which he quietly gets up and joins his buddies without looking at me."
Berlaski's head shook slightly from side to side. "I felt like a real prick, doing that to a brother Marine. Fuck!"
I pushed myself from the rear wall and joined Berlaski at the front of the cells. "Ski, you did what you had to do. It don't mean anything. We'll get these bastards. I promise."
He looked over at me and nodded. "Yeah. Okay." Then, turning again to stare out of his cell, he resumed. "After the four of us shot our wads, the camera was turned off and that guy Larsen tells the other goons to make their 'selections'. Then he comes over and grabs my nuts and announces that he's made his." Ski rubbed his eyes with the thumb and finger of his right hand. "Seems we were to be the 'reward' for the goons on patrol tonight. We were all led by our cock and balls to another section of the building. Each of us taken to a separate little cubicle with a rack in it. You know, a bed. I guess that's where all the other men still are. Larsen, the needle dicked little prick, he shuts the door to the cubicle, faces me and drops his pants." Ski hesitated. I noticed him swallow hard again, the adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Then he turned to face me, his eyes narrowed, his lips a thin line, his eyes boring into mine. "He fucked me, Sarge. The son of a goddamned bitch fucked my ass."
I couldn't think of anything to say. Didn't know how to reassure him. I wished to hell I did. I just reached my left hand through the bars, grabbed the back of his thick neck and squeezed.
He reached up to put his right hand over mine as it rested on his neck. "I guess I was luckier than the others." His gaze swept the empty cells. "Within a couple minutes it was over. Needledick pulls his pants up and brings me back here." Looking back at me, he finished, "And that's it. That's all I know."
Berlaski and I sat side by side in our cells. One by one, the remaining men were returned to their cells. I tried to make eye contact with my other men, but their eyes avoided mine. I couldn't blame them, and I wasn't about to make the same mistake I made with Ski by talking to them in front of Peck's henchmen.
A short time later, the heavy wooden door opened again and I recognized Dieter's hulking form at the entrance. He came directly to my cell and unlocked the door, throwing it open with a grating squeal. "On your feet, fuckface. Mr. Peck wants to see you."
Beyond Dieter's field of vision, I saw Berlaski start to stand and shot him a warning glance. Dieter grabbed the hair on my head as the toe of his boot met my groin. "I said MOVE, scumbag! And I mean NOW!" He pulled me up by my hair to a standing position, then with his free hand grabbed old Snake and pulled me close. His face filled my vision, his breath hot. "You're gonna learn to do what you're told, asshole. And I'm gonna enjoy every fucking minute of it."
Releasing my hair, he pulled on old Snake and I stumbled from the cell. I glanced over at Ski, his face shaded with concern, anger and fear; his hand unconsciously held in futile protection over his groin. Then Dieter, his calloused hand still gripping my cock, led me from the cellblock, through the antechamber and into the humid night air.
I was towed by my dick, none too gently, to the main house on the compound. Inside, we went up a thickly carpeted staircase and down a long hallway to a door at the far end. With one hand maintaining a secure grip on old Snake, Dieter used his other to rap once on the door. I heard Peck's voice from the other side. "Come in, Dieter. Come in."
Dieter turned the knob and swung the door wide. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach and I gasped as the door opened, revealing the scene in the room beyond.
