Sgt Tate gets out of the truck. I get out of my side naked with a hardon. He comes around to my side. I approach him. Extending his arm, I snuggle up to his chest, but he doesn't want me there. He places his hand on the back of my neck. He shoves me towards the door. I cannot hide behind his massive size.
I hear someone whistle. I hope it is for Sgt Tate and not me. I just want to get in the door.
Sgt Tate's hand on my neck keeps my pace. A couple of guys leaving the club look at us. They cannot believe what they are seeing, as both jaws drops simultaneously.
The six foot three doorman sees us. "Oh hell no."
"What?"
"We can't have him being naked out here."
Sgt Tate responds with sarcasm, "Well then, let's get him inside."
The man laughs. As I walk by him, the doorman asks, "Hey boy, let me see your ass." I look to Sgt Tate, who nods. I turn to give him a better view. "Damn, boy! Those are some serious welts."
"It's one half of his punishment."
"Seriously? What the fuck did he do?"
"Hesitated."
"Damn boy! What's the other half?"
Sgt Tate squints. "It IS pig night here tonight?"
The doorman smiles. "Got it. Just one final thing, what's in the duffle?" Sgt Tate opens it up. The doorman's smile grows. "Enjoy the night."
At the next door, Sgt Tate pays for our entrance into the club. We get a semi-private room. He walks down the hall with me behind him. Every step he makes is with confidence. His strides are wide. His footsteps are firm. Most of the men there are naked or semi-naked.
Men within 30 feet stop what they are doing and turn to look at him. His focus is not on them. His focus is to get their attention and their admiration.
We arrive at our room. The door is a Dutch doorÑthe door that allows for the top half to be open but not the bottom. I guess that is why it is semi-private.
He puts down the bag and pulls out a half smoked cigar. Then out comes the leather strap he put around my neck at the store. This time he locks it with a padlock and attaches a very short leash.
"Let's go for a walk."
We leave our room. The leash is so short that I must hunch over, as he does not raise his hand to assist me. I feel ridiculous doing this. But, that's probably his objective.
We pass other rooms, with guys fucking and sucking and jerking off. The Dutch doors allow for exhibition without interference.
I don't see any man dressed head to toe like Sgt Tate.
But then none are getting the stares that he is. None are getting the comments of "Fuck Me!" and "Holy Shit." and "I wonder what he looks like without his uniform." Not a single guy who viewed Sgt Tate remains unaffected by his presence.
We definitely attract a small crowd while walking through the rooms. A few touch my ass. Sgt Tate does not acknowledge any of them.
We get to the lounge area where a few guys are watching porn on TV. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and lights it. A few stares come his way. Some of them don't like it.
A tug to the leash and we are off to the pool area. The few men having sex in the pool stop swimming and just look at him. After he passes, I can see them talking excitedly to one another.
He speaks, primarily to me, "Well this place has changed. I thought it was pig night."
A short older man walks by and adds, "If you want the pig stuff, they have the trough out back on the patio for pissing. The scat stuff is in the tool shed at the other end of the patio. The sling room is passed the showers."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. And they don't allow smoking indoors or near the pool."
Sgt Tate ignores him. He tugs me, and we walk to the back patio.
Men are everywhere. I see blowjobs and rimjobs and fucking. Piss is flying all over the place. One by one, the men stop having sex in order to drool over Sgt Tate. After every eye is on him, he starts walking to the scat shed. A few men cheer. One man shouts, "Let me eat your shit. I want to see where it came from."
We open the door. It smells of shit. It is worse than any smell I could imagine. I hope we don't go in there. The Sarge looks inside, I look under his arm. There are a few men writhing on the floor covered in it. It is smeared on their bodies and faces. It is all over the floor. The walls are splattered with it.
Sarge takes a step back and closes the door. "Like hell I'm going in there. It's so disgusting that I wouldn't consider sending you in there."
The Sarge walks towards the trough. He stops by the picnic table next to the fire pit. A few men are sitting on the table. One is getting a blowjob.
"Evening Sir." One says to Sgt Tate.
"Gentlemen."
Sarge tugs me back indoors. After a few hallway turns we are back at out room. A short older man, also clothed is there. Sarge opens the door, pulls me in. The short man follows. He closes the door behind him.
"How have you been Len?"
"Horny. Looking to drop a load."
"Things here have changed. Smoking is not allowed indoors."
"Piss elegant faggots. You know every one of them would swing on my cock if they had the chance. And since I didn't immediately walk up to them and shove my cock into their mouths, they feel the need to complain."
"I know."
"And yet every one of them is ten times hornier now."
"I know."
"If history serves, the next few parties for you are going to be packed once guys hear that I am here, and come back in hopes to see me fucking and possibly get access to my cock."
"I know."
The Sarge walks over to him. There is about 12 inches and 140 pounds difference between them. "You seem to know a lot. Let me tell you what I know." Without looking down, Sarge pulls out his cock. The man drops to his knees and starts sucking.
Sarge stands there enjoying the blowjob and smoking his cigar. After a few seconds, he pulls out. His thick hardon is tucked away.
"OK, you can keep your cigar. Just try to do it on the back patio." The man looks at me. "What's with him?"
"I'm going to take a dump in her mouth."
"In the Shit Shed?"
"No, that place is disgusting. For me to say that, it has to be."
"What were you thinking?"
Sgt Tate walks the man to the door and talks to him, but I cannot hear them. They walk out of the room.
Oh fuck. I really can't do this. I don't want to eat his shit. That shed was fucking nasty. Even the Sarge thought it was disgusting. I might have waited too long to tell him, but I need to. I can't wait any longer. When he comes back, I must tell him.
A few men walk by and look in. Sgt Tate returns and goes to his duffle.
The door is left wide open.
"Sir?"
Sgt Tate comes to me and roughly turns me around to bend me over.
"Yeah boy?"
His hand grabs the plug and yanks it out.
I scream. I gasp for air. I can't form words.
"I'll give you a few moments." He unbuckles and removes the collar.
My hole feels empty.
"Wow Sir. Sir, I have to tell you something." Sgt Tate slowly looks over at me. I feel completely terrified. "I have given this a lot of thought."
"No one told you to think."
"I'm . . . being . . . serious." I add "Sir."
Sgt Tate Mocks, "So . . . am . . . I . . . faggot."
"Sir, I don't know how I can do this. This repulses me. I want to vomit just thinking about it. I sorry Sir, I just can't eat your shit Sir." There I say it! I finally get the balls to do it, and I did.
"I don't care." He sticks the cigar in his mouth and then squints at me, daring me to challenge him.
"Please understand Sir. I want to serve you. I want to please you. I enjoyed every single moment we have been together. I have connected with you in ways that I could never have with my dad. Having you hold me at night means so much to me."
I start to cry.
Sergeant Tate puts on his campaign cover; its brim casting a shadow that pretty much covers his eyes. He slowly comes over to me. He puts his arm around me and pulls me into his uniform. My cheek rests on his ribbons. He wraps his arms around me stroking my head. With a quick lean over he gives a kiss to my forehead. Holding my head in his hands, I look up from his ribbons towards his face.
When our eyes connect, he looks intensely into my eyes. Then the moment happens.
Sgt Tate shouts, "You worthless piece of shit. You are not fit to touch the uniform of a United States Marine. You are worse than shit. You are the shit that comes from the maggots that eat the shit."
I try to pull away, but his masterful grip holds my head two inches from his. Despite this distance, he yells at me as if we are twenty feet away.
"You are not human. You are more than the shit that comes from the maggots that feast on shit. You are the sewer dweller who collects the shit that comes from the maggots that eats shit. I bet you put the shit that comes from the shit eating maggots on your cornflakes."
He lets go of my head. "You are a coward. A pussy! A pussy that eats corn flakes with little maggot turds."
I am not really paying attention to his stream of conscious rant. I just want this to end. I am totally humiliated. Men stand outside the door watch me get yelled at.
"What a pansy! You don't deserve to have the name of Lennox. Mary suits you better. From here on out you are now known as Mary, Mary Corn Flake. Little Miss Mary Corn Flake. Maricon Flake."
A Latin guy at the door laughs.
"You hear that, turd brain? They are laughing at you." Spittle is sprayed on my face.
I glance over at the door.
"Did you just turn your head? Who gave you permission to turn your head? Is it the fairy of the corn flakes or are the effects from when your mother tried to abort you finally taking effect?"
I look at his straight on. I dare not move a muscle. Sgt Tate is the one who is doing all the moving. He shouts from behind me over my right ear, and then moves to the left. He circles me like a lion targeting its prey.
"Listen here Maricon Flake. You are not here so that you can act like a diva, prancing around looking for attention. You are just two holes with a whole lotta shit in between."
I hear the guys outside the door. They are cheering and laughing. The Latin guy starts chanting, "Maricon Flake! Maricon Flake!" He stops to say to another one, "... it's `faggot' in Spanish."
"You see? Now the country of Spain thinks you are a faggot too. Have you no shame?"
Sgt Tate stoops down to me and looks me directly in the eyes. The brim of his hat is less than an inch from my brow.
"Of course you don't have shame. You have to have a conscious to feel shame. You need to be human to have a conscious. I've seen used tampons more human than you."
He continues to speak with spit landing on my face, catching me off guard. I take a half step back. Sgt Tate looks incredulous at my action.
"Faggot, the next time you flinch, I am going to rip out your spine and dildo you with it."
He once again grabs me by the neck, but this time uses force to push, guide, and hold me in place.
The men get out of the way. A few touch me. Some still chant "Maricon flake."
I stagger and I stumble, but Sgt Tate keeps me moving. We stop in the bathroom area. Looking to the side, I see toilet stalls. While still holding me down, he kicks open a stall door.
I am thrown in. Sgt Tate pushes my head into the clean toilet water. I am held there. I struggle back. It seems to go on for a long time. I am pulled back up. I immediately gasp for air, only to be pushed back down.
Torrents of water crash down on the back of my head. He must be flushing the toilet. Sgt Tate bobs my head a number of times. With my head still underwater, he releases me. I pull myself out only to sit bare assed naked on the cold tiled floor.
"Get your sorry ass up." He kicks me. He shouts. "You better get the fuck up quick before I knock you on your ass."
I get on my knees, but I move too slowly. Sgt Tate starts to pick me up. My feet slip on some of the splashed out toilet water.
"Aw for Christ's sake! You are not only a piece of shit, but you are a clumsy one too. You look like Helen Keller looking for her contact at a marble factory."
I get up, by stabilizing on the washbasin counter. I finally get to see myself. I am a wreck. Physically I look the same. But across my face, Sgt Tate's psychological scars are quite clear. Terror, shame, and defeat don't need to be written across my face, as they are as obvious as my nose.
"You think this is rough? You ready to quit and tell me you can't eat my shit for the twenty ninth time? Well, you can turn in your letter of resignation to that toilet you just face surfed in."
I am led to the back patio. There are significantly more men out there than before. They all seem to be socializing.
Sarge pushes me towards the grassy area. With a shove, I land on the ground. "Damn boy, you move slower than two old people fucking." Sgt Tate comes up to me and kicks me.
We are in the center of a very large circle of onlookers.
Sgt Tate addresses them. "Gentlemen. I am Senior Drill Instructor Master Sergeant Lennox Tate. This here is Piece of Shit, First Class, Mary Corn Flake." He paces back and forth in front of the crowd. "She started life avoiding her momma's hanger. Now, her daddy wants me to make her a man. There's no way that's going to happen even with the space shuttle going up daily to bring down her heels. Ain't that right Piece of Shit, First Class Mary?"
I look at him and say defeated, "Yes." I just want to go home. I don't want to be the center of attention.
He walked up to me and bent over. His massive torso covers my body effectively blocking out half the light. "Yes what? Were you about to call me an asshole? Were you going to say Yes Asshole?' What are we fucking friends now? You want me to sit next to you and make friendship bracelets? Or do you wanna take a shower with me and give me a reach around? Douchebag, how are you supposed to address a Senior Drill Instructor and a Master Sergeant?" He pauses briefly. "Do I look like Bob Ross? Do I need to paint you a picture? In nice pretty happy little colors that only a pansy like you would understand? That's Senior Drill Instructor Master Sergeant Tate' to you. Now say it."
I don't know how to respond to that, except to say, "Yes Sir, Senior Drill Instructor Master Sergeant Tate Sir!"
Sgt Tate goes back to addressing the crowd again. "You should have seen her, after 10 seconds with her, she had her mouth around my cock, begging to drink my piss. Ain't that right Mary?"
"Yes Sir, Senior Drill Instructor Master Sergeant Tate Sir!"
"Then she begs to be my slave. She says, `I want to be your slave. I want to do what you tell me to do. I'll be good.' All that shit you would expect from a flake. A Mary Corn Flake. She even writes out how she will serve me. I have that contract here." He pulls out my contract. "Is this your contract Mary?"
Oh no. Now everyone here will know what I am to do. I want to crawl into a hole somewhere and die.
"I said, `Is this your contract Mary?'"
"Yes Sir, Senior Drill Instructor Master Sergeant Tate Sir!"
"What does the last line read?"
He holds it out for me to see. Even though the light makes it difficult to read, I know precisely what it says. It seems like an eternity since I wrote itÑnot just this morning. I don't want these men to think that I am going to eat from Sgt Tate; I don't want them to think anything bad about me.
"Faggot, I will rip out your fallopian tubes and strangle you with them. So unless you want death by hysterectomy, you need to start reading that last line."
Laughter erupts from the men. Sgt Tate plays them as well. I catch the right light to see that he has a hardon under his clothes. He is getting off on this. My humiliation gets him hard.
I slowly start to stand only to close my eyes in defeat. "I must eat Sgt Tate's shit."
"Louder faggot."
I shout, "I must eat Sgt Tate's shit."
"Are you ready to do that faggot? Right here! Right now! In front of all these men."
So it's going to happen now. Fuck. I am not ready for this. I look at Sgt Tate who is waiting. I feel defeated. I give in. "Yes Sir!" Oh shit, I can't think. How does the rest go? I blurt out "Senior Drill Sergeant Tate Sir!"
Oh fuck. No. I did not just say that. This is not going to be good.
Sgt Tate's eyes squint really tight.
I hear a few voices in the background matching the thoughts in my head, "Oh no," "Oops," and "Would hate to be him." They must know, as do I, that absolute last thing one calls a Marine Drill Instructor is the Army equivalent of Drill Sergeant. I might as well have used the Marine Flag to wipe my ass.
"Did I just hear right? Do you not see that I am wearing the uniform of a highly decorated United States Marine? Do I look like I belong in the Army?" He once again gets in my face. I don't look down, but I see his arm move fast. He strongly grabs my balls. He is not gentle; in fact he is causing a great deal of pain. "Do I look that nelly? If I wanted to be nelly I would have gone to the Danny Stevens School for nelly bitches."
He releases my balls. I instinctively bend over and grab them. "Damn boy! They're just balls." Sgt Tate straightens me up, placing both his hands on my shoulders. He looks into my eyes. "See, it's getting better." He's right; my balls do start feeling better.
I smile and nod. Sharp intense pain erupts in my balls again, as Sgt Tate knees me. This time, however, it is ten times worse. I scream out.
"See, it got a whole hell of a lot worse. Notice the difference."
I begin to lose my balance. But breathing deep is helping me recover.
"Now wipe that dick in the headlights look off your face. Get your ass up and get it ready to pay up."
He doesn't wait for me. I am lifted up and slammed down on the picnic table.
He shouts to the crowd. "It's time for a picnic. It's time this Piece of Shit, First Class, Mary gets something to eat."
I look up at moon and the stars. Sgt Tate appears in my view above my head, standing a foot or two back at the end of the picnic table. While his head faces forward, he looks down at me along the length of his nose.
We stare at each other. He doesn't flinch. I know that I mustn't look away. I nervously, but quietly, laugh.
Sgt Tate cantilevers his upper torso so that his face is above mine inverted. Our two pairs of eyes line up. The brim from his hat nearly hits my lower lip.
"Now is the time for you to do your part boy. I hope you're ready." His steel eyes relax. He whispers, "Trust me. You'll be fine boy." He kisses my forehead. My body and mind, for the moment, relax.
After straightening up, he orders, "Lift your head up faggot!" I lift it off the table. "No faggot, strain as far as you can, but leave your shoulders flat on the table." I do; it is an awkward position.
With me essentially looking at the other end of the table and my toes, I easily see Sgt Tate hop on the table to stand between my feet.
"We all had our laughs, but the time for fun and games is over." He starts walking towards my head, with very targeted foot placement on each side of my body. He pauses with his feet on opposite sides of my ribcage.
He looks down at me. It is a stern look at me. My eyes look up at him. With my head facing my feet and my eyes looking upward, I feel like I am giving him a puppy dog look.
Sgt Tate towers over me. With nothing above him except the night sky, his size is emphasized, making him into a Goliath. He doesn't flinch.
I gulp. The crowd is really excited. I hear some whistles, some clapping, but mostly conversation chatter.
Between his stern look and his motionless stance, there is not one other thing he could do or say that would establish such a tight control over me.
Slowly he nods. It is going to happen. He takes a step forward as the crowd cheers.
Passing my shoulders, he stands at the end of the picnic table facing out with my body lying behind him. His feet are placed about a foot apart. If my head back to rests back to where it was on the table, it is directly between his size 17's. I hear his belt buckle clanking. The crowd around me cheers again. After a brief moment, I feel his pants fall to the table hitting the top and back of my head.
I can feel his heels back into my shoulders. "Relax your head. Put it back on the table." I tip it back, but cannot go all the way to the table. His trousers and jock around his ankles create a basket for my head to rest in.
I look up at his ass. Through his legs I see his cock standing proud. The crowd, who has moved in, starts clapping in unison. He lights up a cigar.
The clapping is deafening. Sarge is unfazed by it. He looks at the cigar in one hand as he casually strokes his cock with the other.
I am just looking at his ass. Each cheek is a hairy globe of muscle. It is the best ass I have ever seen.
Sgt Tate announces to all, "It is now time to get down to some serious shit."
He looks between his legs at me and then stoops down.
I see those globes coming towards me. As his ass is about a foot away his cheeks start to part, revealing his asshole. His asshole is perfectly aligned with my mouth. I instantly start licking. I should enjoy as much of this as I possibly can.
I feel Sgt Tate's cock flop down on my forehead. Every once in a while he gives it a tug before dropping it again on my head. I can glance at his face when his cock isn't covering my entire view.
He farts. It fills up my lungs. The crowd cheers. It feels weird to have an asshole open up around my tongue and gases come pouring out. It stinks, but not too bad.
I look at him looking down at me. After putting his cigar in his mouth, he reaches with both hands down between his legs to hold onto both sides of my head. I really can't move my head.
Our nearly obstructed eye contact remains intact as a much smaller fart slips out. But this time his asshole flairs open and remains open. He nods to me.
I feel it. I taste it. It fills my mouth up. Sgt Tate smiles. In the background I hear someone shout, "He's really doing it."
It is too much for my mouth. It has a real bitter taste to it. The consistency is like a soft chocolate chip cookie. I start to struggle, but Sgt Tate firmly holds me in place.
The jamming into my mouth stops. I don't think; I just swallow. Immediately I start to gag.
"Boy, take it easy. Don't think about it. That's what's causing you to gag. Relax."
Another piece comes into my mouth. I just try to open up my throat as if I was swallowing Sarge's cock. That actually works.
"Fuck that's disgusting," "Go Sarge," "At least I don't have to kiss him," are some comments coming from the crowd.
"Lick me" is all he says. I start licking all over his hole, cleaning off his shit. His hole opens up and he fills my mouth up with it. Now it is no longer firm. While it's not runny, it doesn't have much of a form.
Sarge stands up. I haven't licked him clean. He pulls his pants from under my head. Turning around so that he can see me.
"Damn boy, you were made for this." No, I want it over. I gag. "You need some help swallowing. Let me help you with that. Move down a bit."
I don't know what he is about to do, but I do move down the table a few inches. He somewhat pulls his pants up, just enough so that he can maneuver. He gets on his knees with my head in between.
"Yes boy, you really do like shit. Your cock is rock hard." He gives it a smack. It bounces side to side. The way that I feel it moving I realize that I must have been hard for a while. It amazes me that I don't recall being turned on.
Sgt Tate points his cock at my mouth still full. "Here let me help you take care of that."
Some of the men in the crowd gag while others cheer.
He leans forward and shoves. Some comes oozing out the side. I swallow the best that I can both his cock and the muck in my mouth. After a few swallows, I no longer feel like my mouth is going to explode. Through his legs I see that his ass will need some more licking.
Sarge grabs a hold of my hard cock. As I swallow he begins jerking me off. I am swirling with feeling, both physical and emotional. I feel his cock fucking my mouth at the same I am trying to swallow. Only one is a wonderful feeling. To take his cock at any time is an extraordinary thing. Then to pair that with his jacking me off, is quite unreal. He hasn't touched my cock like that. It feels real good.
Then I feel something I have never felt anymore. I feel moisture surrounding my cockhead. It can't be. Sarge can't be giving me head, not in front of these men.
These men react with cheer. Sgt Tate is actually blowing me!
My cock is feeling wonderful, so much that I forget that I have this man's waste and his cock in my mouth. I swallow as much as I can in order to enjoy his warm moist mouth around my cock.
I feel him bob his head on my cock. When he gets to the tip he somehow tickles my cock head. I cannot control myself anymore. I don't want to cum without his permission, but at the same time, I really want to cum. I start to moan like the guys in the bathroom do to tell me they are going to cum.
Instead of stopping, he focuses on lick tickling my head. His hand jerks my cock in conjunction. That's all I need. I scream out the best I can with his cock and what's left of his shit in my mouth.
The orgasm is incredible. I feel like I want to push everything out my dick. I feel alive. This is the best orgasm I have ever had.
He doesn't flinch, taking all I can give. I try to prolong the orgasm just to give him as much as I could.
Sgt Tate slowly gets up off of me, including pulling his cock out of my mouth. He hops down.
Thoughts consume me. Should I have cum in his mouth? Should I have tried not to cum, as he's been demanding of me? Oh no. I don't want to fuck up again.
He looks at me through his squint. As he slowly walks around to me, I don't know what to do. Should I apologize?
He barely leans over me and proceeds to spit my cum out like a wad of spit all over my face. It drips into my eyes, my nose, and into my mouth. He spits a second time, and a third.
"Thank you Sir."
"Don't thank me, thank your Daddy for bringing you along. You are a fucking mess. Lie there for a minute, eat the cum and shit off of your face."
The Sarge walks off. I look up at the stars and near full moon. Wow. I did it. I ate his shit. I don't ever want to do that again, but I did it. The Sarge seems happy. He must have been, why else would he gave me a blowjob? Why did he let me cum? In his mouth to boot! Wow. That was an incredible experience. I will remember it for a long time.
I look around me as I begin to lick up my cum. The men around me look at me. They have moved in a lot closer, probably to get a better view. Some have started kissing each other. Many others are in the midst of a circle jerk. I wonder how much was due to the Sarge's presence.
My cum tastes real good, at the moment.
Sgt Tate returns without his trousers and his shirt. He wears the jockstrap, a wife beater, boots, and his hat. "Get down from there." I jump down. He puts what looks like a bundle of belts on the table. Bending over he says, "Clean up your mess on my ass." I race behind him, drop to my knees, and immediately start licking. It is a mess. I start licking his crack.
Men come up to Sgt Tate to complement him, to talk to him, to thank him.
He pulls me out of his ass. "I hope for your sake that my ass is spotless. You thirsty?"
Come to think of it, I could use some water. "Yes Sir."
"Bend over." He has a large butt plug in his hand. I am nervous. I feel the tip at my hole. In the next moment it is brutally shoved into me.
"Sit." I sit on the picnic bench trying to favor the plug. "Get up and sit down again. When you are plugged you are never to do anything that will make your experience with the plug easier." I sit back down firmly on my ass. The plug goes in deeper, causing me to wince. "Good."
After fussing with the pile of buckles, he takes each wrist and places a leather wristband on each. Both have rings on them.
The collar he had on me in Randy's store is back on me. Each wrist is pulled behind my neck. A padlock locks my wrists behind my neck.
He commands me to open my mouth. I trust him. A burp slips out. "GOOD BOY!"
In my mouth goes one part of the belt. Or rather, something else goes into my mouth attached to one of the belts. It is tube like. It restrains my mouth from closing. He buckles the belt behind my head. He applies other buckles to my head. I don't know what he is planning to do. The final piece is a plastic cone that rests on my forehead and yet is buckled to the rest. I see a padlock in his hand briefly before he reaches behind me and locks it.
"Do you know what this is?" I shake my head no. "Kneel." I obey. He takes out his cock, which still has some left overs on it. He pisses in the cone. A brief second later, piss fills my mouth. I cannot close my mouth. I need to drink as fast as I can.
"Hope you are still thirsty."
He brings me over to the outdoor trough. I am secured to one of the pipes.
"Drink up. I'll be back . . ." He begins to walk off. " . . . Eventually."
Right away, a big blonde man pisses in my mouth, followed by a short Hispanic man. After those two, not many use me for their urinal. I guess I am not as interesting without Sgt Tate.
In between piss loads, I have a lot to think about. Yet, I don't even know what to think about, or what my focus is. So much has happened today. Between seeing him in the shower this morning to him passing me over to Randy, to him shitting in my mouth, I am truly overwhelmed. My mind is still swirling.
After what seems like an eternity and half dozen bladders of piss, the manager greets me, the same man who told Sgt Tate that he can't smoke inside.
He unlocks me and takes out my gag, but only after he first pisses in the cone. "Come with me, your Master needs your services." I get up and start to follow him. "So tell me, how does his shit taste?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I am wondering how did you do it? How did it taste?"
"To be honest, I don't remember. I just wanted to swallow it and be done with it. It's all a fog." He nods.
We approach our room. The top half of the Dutch door is open; a number of men look inside.
"Coming through." The manager has no problem with pushing men out of the way. "I got your bitch."
"Good." I see Sgt. Tate. He only wears his hat, dog tags, and boots. Behind him are two men on the bed on all fours. They are side by side.
The manager says to Sgt Tate, "Thanks for the show."
"Thanks for getting the audience in one place."
Sgt Tate removes the leather, and the gag's restraint. "Bitch, I dumped a half a load in . . . whatever the fuck their names are. Felch it out of both of them. We need to get going."
My mouth goes to the first one's ass. It isn't like Sgt Tate's or Randy's. I can slip my tongue in easily. It's like sticking my tongue in warm rice pudding. I taste cum. The cum in this one is a lot easier to get than with Randy.
Sgt Tate pulls out my plug. It feels great to be empty again.
The man I am eating says, "He got it all Sir."
"Get the fuck out of here."
I move to the other one, and this one's ass looks completely wrong. It looks like his asshole got pulled out of him. He keeps puckering his hole and cum dribbles out. I lick around his hole. I think I would rather eat Sgt Tate's dirty hole over this inside-out hole any day.
I feel a dull object at my asshole. Sgt Tate shoves it in. It is another plug, but this one is bigger.
"Ok, Prolapse!" Sarge smacks the man's ass. "Get the fuck out of here too." He leaves with his towel around his midsection. I didn't even see either face.
I look at Sgt Tate. He is dressed in his beater and a pair of sweats. The duffle is in his hand.
"I got everything. I see you are dressed." I guess I will be naked on the drive back to the Motel.
We leave the club. On the way out a couple of men give Sarge their numbers on a card. After leaving the building, the cards go into the nearest garbage. Sarge seems very determined to get back to the motel.
I climb up in the cab. It is probably not a good thing to talk to him.
Sarge gets in. He looks like he is pissed.
"Boy."
I don't want to speak, "Yes Sir?"
Sarge turns to look at me. He has the DI look. I stare directly ahead.
"Boy, you made me proud." His scowl turns to smile. "Hoo-rah!"
We drive off. On the drive back, he constantly rubs my stomach. "My shit is in here, where it belongs." On the drive to the motel his grin never stops.
We walk into our room. I just want to collapse into bed; it's three thirty in the morning.
"Let's take a shower to clean up."
"Yes Sir."
We both climb into the shower. It makes me appreciate the size of Sgt Tate's shower at the lodge. I lather and wash Sgt Tate while he stands there. He doesn't interact with me.
He gets out leaving me to wash myself up. I don't mind, as I just want to be clean for bed. I don't know if I should take the plug out for bed. I decide against it.
I finish up and walk into the other room. Sgt Tate is already in bed. He pulls back the blankets and taps the bed.
I climb in with him. He pulls me tight into a spooning position with him. He strokes my stomach.
"Thank you Sir."
"You're welcome."
He continues to stroke my stomach. For a long time he's stroking my stomach.
"Sir?"
"Yeah boy?" He's about to drift off.
"Why are you stroking my stomach?"
"My shit is in here. As much as you fought me, I still got it in here. Boy you did me proud. You did me proud." He falls asleep. So do I.