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While I was on my way to Vosloo's quarters the boys decided that Parvus— who always seemed to be awfully close when anything suspect went down around the bungalow—should account for his actions. They waited for him to return, hanging around as if nothing was going on, until he skulked in just after 14h00. They pretended to ignore him as usual, getting on with their regular Sunday afternoon cleaning, washing and lazing about, until he hobbled in on his one crutch, looking as if he was hoping to remain invisible.
Gone was the smug little fucker of the previous few days. The disagreeable little man looked positively abashed, but the guys were not to be fooled by his sudden change in demeanor. Wessels, particularly, had made it clear that he was out to get the Excrementum and it was he who circled closer to Parvus, who had the last bunk in the corner, forced to bunk alone since nobody was prepared to share with him.
When the little man was bent down with his head in his trommel, Wessels grabbed him by the back of his shirt and forced him all the way down until only his bony little ass was sticking straight into the air. He had his hand on the back of Parvus' neck so that his victim couldn't see who his attacker was, and his face was pressed onto a stack of laundry which muffled his cry of surprise.
"I told you, you are dead you little tattletale, and you have exactly five seconds to convince me not to keep my promise."
Wessels was normally the clown of the squad, but there was no trace of lightheartedness as his deadly serious voice broke the tomblike quiet that suddenly replaced the pleasant buzz of repartee that had filled the room not a moment before.
The platoon's most hated man did his best to make himself heard but since he hadn't been allowed breathe, let alone talk, was having little success.
"I can't hear you!" Wessels bellowed, and manhandled his terrified prey so he was upright. In the meantime the others in the room had made their way over and when Parvus caught his breath he found that he was lifted bodily into the air. A blindfold was tied around his eyes and a makeshift gag with a ball inserted in his mouth, so that he was not only unable to see what was to happen to him but also unable to protest his fate. Then his hands were roughly bound behind his back. The sad little wretch was clearly shitting his pants and what made it even more terrifying was that nobody said a word. He was lifted above the heads of those who were more mobile and no matter how much he wriggled and struggled, his unceremonious exit from the bungalow to who-knows-where happened despite all resistance.
The lynch mob made its way to the bathrooms where a make-shift frame of sorts had been rigged, using part of a metal base of a single bed attached to a contraption made from the frame of an old bicycle. Once everybody had limped and wheeled into the room Parvus was unbound but in short order attached spread-eagled to the frame so that his arms and legs and body made a crude "X". His head was secured to the frame as well, so that he was effectively immobilized. Then he was slowly spun around on the cog of the bicycle so that his head was pointing at the floor and his legs were splayed heavenwards.
The demonic plan had been devised by Tobie who had studied engineering before he entered the army, and had always thought that this technique promised to be an ideal method of torture. He was elated when he found the raw materials and was able to purpose them for such a commendable cause.
It wasn't long before Parvus' face was infused with blood. He was making alarming groaning and gargling noises and his saliva was pouring out of his mouth, which he couldn't close because of the gag. The guys had obviously discussed beforehand what they were going to do because nobody spoke at all.
Parvus' shirt was removed by cutting all the way down the sleeves and peeling it off him one piece at a time. The knife was very sharp and the material separated with little ripping noises. Parvus cringed every time the sharp tip touched his skin. Goose bumps appeared all over his torso. The guys mimed jack-off motions and pointed at the curious phenomenon of the rat's reaction to uncertainty and danger. Little crocodile clamps were attached to his nipples and this caused him obvious pain as he squealed shrilly. Only the ball gag prevented him from bringing the whole base running to investigate. And wonder of wonders, a conspicuous lump appeared in the crotch of his army browns.
Done with his shirt, his pants were removed in a similar fashion. He obviously anticipated the same treatment of his other sensitive areas and he really went ballistic at the implied menace. Sure enough, when he was only clothed in his underpants, the obscene and clearly drooling sausage was outlined for all to see. When the elastic was pulled down his erect member sprung out with a spray of pre-cum. The guys, alarmed, jumped back as best as they could but Tobie, who was closest, was rewarded with a silver thread of pre-ejaculate across his mouth and cheek. The guys all grimaced and feigned disgust, but Tobie licked the glistening thread from his lips and scooped the remainder up with his fingers and into his mouth. Some guys were miming puking motions, but some of them were obviously also taken up with Parvus' perverse response to his anticipated torture. Baskets were surreptitiously adjusted or rubbed through the army browns and eyes sparkled when they observed the captive's endowment.
Tobie gingerly lifted the crinkled scrotum in a latex-gloved hand, and with a grimace attached a small crocodile clamp to the skin. It was all that the platoon could do to contain their laughter because Parvus was struggling so violently at this point that the whole contraption threatened to collapse and it was only the efforts of the two brawniest guys that kept it upright. Pre-cum was escaping from his partially retracted foreskin in long silvery drools that trailed down his hairy stomach. For such a small man he was hugely endowed and the guys mimed an elephant trunk and cracked up laughing silently.
With a flourish somebody then switched on a portable CD player, and Chopin's Death March began to play solemnly in the echoing space of the bathrooms.
Finally Wessels spoke.
"Parvus Excrementum, you who are so suitably named after shit, the waste product of the body, you have been found guilty of aiding and abetting the efforts of an officer to bring into disrepute, and cause bodily and psychological harm, two of the esteemed and loved members of this platoon. A decision has been made to subject you to similar treatment as that which is sure to befall our dear brother Ben Jordaan. So, as your punishment, electric shocks are to be administered to your nipples and private parts."
The prospect of the impending punishment clearly had a profound effect on the bound victim. The perversions of which everybody had always suspected him manifested spectacularly, as he groaned and ejaculated spontaneously, his cum squirting like a high-pressure hose outward and downwards over his stomach, face, and the closest bystanders, as well as the floor of the bathroom. Unable to control themselves any longer, an involuntary "Whoa" escaped from the watching guys and the thronged backwards and out of the way as far as possible. Parvus' back arched as his orgasm gripped him and he shot the product of his twisted peccadillos all over the place.
"Shit, this is very, very fucked up," Tobie exclaimed, and threw caution to the winds. He hauled his nail-hard dick out and started to jack furiously. I looked like he wasn't the only one who needed some release after the screwed up few months and especially days that they had just been party to. Every guy in the platoon similarly thought `fuck this' and decided that now was as good a time as any for a circle jerk. There was some uncertainty amongst some of the boys, but Parvus' spectacular response to cruelty had flicked a switch in the collective psyche of the posse. Furtive glances sideways to see who was watching made way for flagrant lust. Hands found their way into army pants and shorts. Some of the guys in chairs just pulled short pant legs aside to expose cock and balls. Foreskins were pulled back to reveal gleaming glans, or spit was applied to lubricate cut dicks. Every description was on display. The secrecy of nighttime jerks, such as had complemented the debut lovemaking between Ben and Gay Boy, was abandoned for a brazen display of masculine lust that bordered on an orgy.
The occasional hand found itself snaking its way to a nipple to pinch and punctuate. Some even went as far as to reach out to a brother and take hold of his member to lend a helping hand. In the age old tradition of the circle jerk, where men silently acknowledge their innate willingness, and yes, need to share ejaculations with other men, the exotic pleasure of holding a man by his cock was acceded to, and eyes locked in silent assent and even mutually acknowledged hunger for male sexual communion. Hands moved faster, and others cupped a brother's neck behind the head for stability as hips were thrust forward to provide easier access to questing prods.
Coert, who was standing on his own in the back, his eyes closed in silent reverie as he slowly felt his groin begin to tingle and his balls, pull up, felt a hand cup his naked butt, his pants being around his one ankle. Jan de Haast, an equally shy boy from a small East Rand town called Boksburg, tall and gangly and hung like a circus horse, slowly edged around until he was facing Coert, looking into his veiled eyes with a curious expression. He leaned forward and placed his lips on Coert's, and as the latter was driven over the edge by the intimate act, escalated the peck to a full-on smooch. Coert shouted into Jan's mouth as he came hugely, painting Jan's own dick with his cum, and supplying the tall man, with extra lube as his own uncut cock emptied itself out over Coert's tummy and chest. Jan drew the shorter man into himself and the contents of their gonads provided a sticky glue that celebrated the momentary joining of two needy men.
Of the rest of the men, some of those that were able shuffled forward and stood around Parvus and as they started to ejaculate one by one, his ugly, red face was laced with slippery, slimy tendrils of cum as they all, one by one and in twos, shot the contents of their balls over his chest, hair, face and some even into his nostrils and ears. Tips of cocks were swiped across his cheeks and mount. Groans of ecstasy filled the air on all sides as the men found release from the tension and anxiety at the misfortune of the beloved bunkmates, in a collective squirt-fest of heroic proportions.
As they, one by one, shuddered to the end of their climaxes, the cum-decorated, naked body of Parvus still hung upside down on Tobie's makeshift torture rack. Guys all over were still tucking away their artillery as Wessels motioned for him to be spun right way up. Tobie, still licking the cum off his hand, complied and the garishly festooned private, his ample dick now back to its regular, nonetheless impressive size, was finally restored right way up. He looked like a centerfold from a BDSM fetish magazine, snot and spit and slime covering his face, and the now watery spunk dribbling down every available surface to gather in a macabre pool on the floor beneath him to join the joint ejaculate of every prick in the platoon.
Wessels walked over to the prisoner and took his blindfold off. He stood right up close to the bound man, whose eyes were like saucers. After the release it was back to business.
"What the fuck were you thinking you stupid shit? Did you think that anything good could come from, one: cooperating with the rank against your own platoon members, and two: getting somebody as solid as Ben Jordaan taken away by the MPs?" Parvus mumbled into his gag and Wessels nodded.
"Take the little fuck's gag out."
Once again it was Tobie who complied, and Parvus, eager to talk, immediately started babbling, not making much sense since his jaw was tight from being forced open for an extended period of time, but Wessels held up his hand and the small turncoat mumbled to a halt.
"Slow down, boy, we're all keen to hear the genius workings of the traitor's mind," he drawled sarcastically.
"Let's hear it," Coert, now recovered from his stopover in Jan's arms was standing near him to his right, whispered in his low tones, and the threat was evident in his voice. He took hold of the wire that was still attached to Parvus' scrotum and nodded to Peter, who pulled forward a little generator on wheels that had been brought for the purposes of administering punishment and extracting information. He attached first that wire and then the others that were dangling from the stoolie's nipples, to the gadget.
Parvus started struggling again and squealing like a stuck pig, so Tobie popped the gag back into his ugly hole. Coert, soft-spoken as he was, evidently wasn't feeling the sympathy vibe for their snoop and unceremoniously spun him around so vigorously that the captive made several revolutions before he came to a halt more or less face down again. The revolutions had twisted the wires attached to the generator and the tension got quite a bit tighter. The one attached to his scrotum pulled loose, administering a fairly painful pinch to the leathery, wrinkled skin of the hairy ball bag. Coert was obviously a contender for 'still waters run deep' adage because he proceeded to administer a smart slap to the wrinkled scrotum and reattached the errant crocodile clip to Parvus' foreskin. Parvus screamed as the clip, attached to the generator, pulled his prepuce painfully downward and stretched his flaccid cock out.
"I suggest you calm yourself down, and prepare to control both your dick and your girly voice, and tell us what played out between you and Vosloo, that led up to Ben Jordaan being taken into custody by the MPs." Coert's voice was soft, icy and invited no argument. He turned calmly to the generator and flicked a switch that set off a calm hum and a high-pitched whistle that boded only Ill for the delicate tip of Parvus' poor peepee.
As the mild electric shock coursed through the wires and the victim's body parts, Parvus lost control of his bladder and urine began to first squirt and then trickle down his abdomen and chest and flooded his face, which was at this time the colour of an ox liver. Saliva was pouring out of his mouth as he couldn't close his mouth or swallow and his face was covered in piss and slime. He was shrieking into his gag and tears were running down his inverted face.
"What a fucking mess," Wessels barked and flicked the switch off. "This is a waste of time. Take him down and fucking drown the shit for all I care. We need to see what's happening to Gay Boy. He could be in deep shit by now."
He slowly spun Parvus right way up.
"Now I want you to understand me, you weak, useless piece of crap: If anybody hears about this, and we take any heat from the brass, you must know that I will personally make you disappear. I'm not making idle threats. Trust me."
Parvus, tears streaming down his detested face, nodded as much as his secured head allowed. He wished he had made some different choices now, didn't he?