This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copywrite and private to and reserved by the author. This entire story is fictional and not based upon any individual living or dead. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted. This is a novel of gay sex, some of the sex depicted will be consensual, a great deal will not, some will even go well past that point into the territory of deep fetishes. If, where you live, you are underage to read this kind of material, or this material will be unlawful for you to read regardless of your age, I'm sorry but please leave now. If you are offended by gay sex, then fuck off this isn't intended for you, besides why are you browsing around here anyway? If this story is the kind of thing that pleases you and/or gets your juices flowing, then enjoy it with my blessings
Chp. 8
Viktor continues
Viktor Alexievich
Once the last pair of rebels were dispatched and our ropes and hand cuffs were removed, we headed back towards Kandahar. The murderer and his boy were brought with us. I knew where his villa was. Like all the homes of the wealthy in Afghanistan, there were few openings into the street and any that there were, would have been equipped with heavy steel shutters. I knew this man's house. It was a fortress facing out and place within. It would provide the perfect setting for his destruction.
I sent a detachment of four men ahead with instructions to occupy the house, empty it of any locals and seal all the outward facing shutters. We entered his house and went to the garden at its center. The would-be rebel leader was tied by his wrists between two of the columns in his garden. He was standing with his arms pulled away from his body. I instructed the sergeant to have a soldier pass a stout piece of rope through his mouth and tie it behind his head. He wouldn't be able to speak, but he would be able to scream, and I wanted to hear him scream, and watch him weep.
Once the "sacred warrior" was secured, I had his boy brought in and said to him, "I have been told that the ultimate shame an Afghan man can be given is if another man takes his wife or his boy. Before we are through here every member of my unit is going to use you. They will use both of your holes again and again. If you refuse or bit down on any of my men, I personally will skin you and your "protector" alive. You will both live for hours in unspeakable agony as I cut and rip, and cut and rip again removing your lovely soft skin. Then just as I judge that you are about to die, I'll reach down, grab your bag and cut it free from your body. I'll tan the bag and make a tobacco pouch of it and have your balls with my breakfast eggs. You have seen what I'm capable of doing out on that rocky plain - Your "protector" murdered my sergeant and it is my intent to make him suffer before I execute him. It is your very bad luck to be the best means I have to inflict suffering on him.
You are going to be repeatedly raped in both your holes. That is fact. That will happen. It is for you to decide whether your rapes are one long agony for you or you learn to enjoy being used by strong stalwart Soviet soldiers. But, whether you decide to enjoy it or not, it is going to happen. You will be tethered by a rope around your neck to a spike driven into the ground. If you attempt to remove your rope collar, or if I only think you're attempting to remove your rope collar, I will have you flogged. I would so hate to damage that beautiful skin of yours but that will be entirely up to you. He had been standing before me , naked with his hands still bound behind him. The whole time I'd been talking to him, I'd been running my hands all over his body. It really was beautiful, there were the beginnings of manly muscles to be felt beneath the soft velvety skin of youth. If he survived the next couple of days, he might grow into a real beauty. As I was enjoying the feel of him beneath my hands, he stood quietly, occasionally shivering like a nervous colt.
I called the young sergeant to me and had him muster the men. "Sergeant, make sure that every window's shutters are closed and bolted from within and that every door's shield is closed and bolted, then close and bolt the doors from the inside and report the completion of these instructions back to me." He took some men and we could hear shutters crashing closed all over the house, then the deeper booms as the door shields were closed and secured.
In short order the sergeant and his detail returned and rejoined the formation. "Sergeant, I want a rope collar on this rebel attached to two meters of rope. The opposite end of the rope is to be secured to a spike and the spike driven into the ground in the garden. Before that happens, take the rebel and make him move his bowels and piss, I don't want good Soviet soldiers to have to deal with any rebel's piss and shit. Once he's been emptied and staked out in the garden he is to be used as a cum dump by every man in this unit. They may use either of his holes or both of them, and as often as they wish. As a reward for your performance today, and for the performance of the private with the "miraculous grip" you and he are to be the first to use this pig. One thing more, set a watch at the front and back doors and warn the soldiers there that if I find them slacking in their duty and therefore imperiling their comrades, I'll stake them out in the place of this rebel and let him use them."
If I may interject again, General? Women are so tightly controlled in Afghanistan that our soldiers had no access to the release a man, most particularly a young man, needs. The Command knew that many, even most, soldiers eventually ended up turning to their comrades for that release, but turned a blind eye. As long as they were getting relief from someone that was really all that mattered.
Thank you, Sir. Now to return to my narrative. The rebel was taken to where he'd been accustomed to empty his bowels and bladder and ordered to do both. While there his escort of soldiers found the equipment he had used to wash out his insides for his "protector." They forced him to administer four full cleansings to himself.
He was then brought back to the garden, being pulled along by his hempen leash. A number of my men had removed their tunics while they awaited his return. None of the soldiers got completely naked, but many went naked from the waist up. Even with only that much showing, they were all splendid examples of young Soviet masculinity. Their ages ranged from the youngest who'd only recently turned eighteen to the eldest who were grizzled veterans of around twenty-three or four.
Those not on duty guarding the house and their mates within it were now gathered in the garden. The very air there palpated to the beat of anticipated sex. You could taste it on the air.
The rebel who was to be their whore was brought into the garden, his hands still bound behind him. I stood there awaiting him. His escort shoved him forward and he fell fully onto his belly and face into the soft flowers of the garden. He looked up at me, fear and resignation etched in bold relief across his face. "Rebel, " I told him, "Only a few hours ago, you and your mates were lying in wait in the rocks hoping to surprise and kill my men, these men, and me. You have earned severe punishment, even execution, by your behavior. But because treating you as our whore, our cum dump, would humiliate and degrade your "mentor" that will be your punishment. If in any way you offer any resistance or attempt either to hurt any one of my men or to escape, you will be maimed and tortured, not to the release of death, but to and through the gates of insanity. I am going to order that your hands be unbound. You may need them to pleasure my men. Use them against any Soviet soldier and I will order every bone in each hand crushed and reduced to fragments. One time only, I ask, do you understand?"
The rebel bobbed his head "Yes." I turned to the sergeant and said, "He's all yours, Sergeant, enjoy him." Then I noticed that the sergeant was fully clothed. The sergeant saw the quizzical look on my face and before I could speak, he said, "Lieutenant, I am responsible, under you, for the safety and well being of the men and of this entire unit. While I thank you, Sir, for having placed me at the head of the line, my understanding of my duty demands that I wait and keep watch over the unit. I have given my place to the brave soldier who was struck by a shard of rock just below his eye. Then, if it meets with your approval, Sir, I've assigned the next two places to his two fellow decoys, as a small reward for their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the good of the unit. The rest will follow in the order of their seniority." I answered, "Approved. That is exactly what our late murdered sergeant would have done. I intend to recommend all three of our decoys for medals. Until the medals arrive, your idea seems a good way to recompense them."
I guess my fatigue had begun to show because he next said, "Sir, if you will be kind enough to follow me, I have found the master bedroom and the men and I would be honored if you'd take that room for yourself. Perhaps we could bring the rebel to you there first and then when you've finished using him in his master's bed we could bring him back here to the garden?"
I told him, "I will use him too, but later. What I really want now is to sleep for about two hours. Besides when I take him I want to savor his pain and degradation. I'll take him last. In the meantime, I'd be grateful if you'd take me to that bedroom you mentioned. I'd really be glad of two hours rest, then I'll relieve you and you will be able to rest." "Yes, Sir, if you'll follow me, I'll take you there," he responded.
As we went up the outside stairs I could see that the rebel had been placed on his hands and knees. One soldier was on his back resting on his elbows, his trousers down to his knees while under his instructions, the naked rebel was using his tongue to wash the sweat and stink of a day spent marching and fighting and marching again from his balls. Another soldier, the one with the wound below his eye was lining up his cock with the rebels ass hole. I stopped for a moment to witness the instant of penetration for that Soviet soldier was packing a weapon equally as impressive as any Kalashnikov. For just a second or two my hormones almost won out over my exhaustion, but in the end after hearing the squeal of pain from the rebel, I turned my face back towards the upstairs gallery and my waiting sergeant.
Andre Vasilievich
As the major reached this point in his narrative, I quietly picked up the phone and rang the reception desk. "Enter now as you were instructed," was all I said. It was all I needed to say. Gently, quietly I cradled the phone and the door opened noiselessly. Pavel entered, closed the door and silently went to "his" corner and stripped naked. He then came and stood at attention beside and facing my chair.
The major had been staring at a point above my head during his entire monologue. Reliving his memories was such an intense experience for him that I believe he didn't immediately register Pavel's arrival. While Pavel remained at attention on my right, I was able while resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, to raise my hand, pivoting on the elbow and his scrotum fit perfectly into my hand. I sat there listening to the major and manipulating Pavel's balls. I've always enjoyed the velvety smoothness of the wrinkled skin of a healthy youthful scrotum and you Pavel's was certainly a pleasure to play with. And, while I did like the strawberry blonde color of his pubic hair on closer inspection, such as I was now conducting, it seemed that the overall esthetic experience for the viewer would be enhanced were his ball sack to be entirely hairless and smooth.
I hate shaving in that area as very soon thereafter stubble begins and it becomes an irritant so I made a decision that later this evening Pavel and I would have a session with some tweezers. I would pluck every hair growing on his scrotal sac. It might be an uncomfortable experience for him, but I would enjoy both the experience and the result so since my pleasure was all that mattered, that was what was going to happen.
I hadn't played with his cock at all, but in a matter of only a couple of minutes or less, all of Pavel was standing at attention. I encircled the top of his bag with my fingers and gently pulled down. It did not deflate his cock but did, for the immediate future stop his youthful march toward ejaculation.
The major continued his recitation and I continued absentmindedly playing with my slave. It was at this point that I decided that when the major got to the part of his story where he executed the fat merchant, I would send Pavel to kneel before him, suck the major's cock down his throat and drain his nuts. After all what better way to begin a working relationship than by having one's slave suck an orgasm out of one's new associate?
Viktor Alexievich continues
The sergeant brought me to a large room on the second floor with windows and a door facing the courtyard/gallery. I hadn't realized how tired I'd been until I crossed the threshold of the room. I'm afraid that I stumbled and might have fallen but for my sergeant who caught me. He took charge, brought me to the bed and removed my tunic. By the time I'd fought back to a grudging control of my body, he'd removed my boots, socks, trousers, tunic and undershirt. I was sitting there on the side of the bed in nothing but my under shorts. I began to protest, but the sergeant knelt before so he could look up into my face. "Please, Sir, I was the student of my predecessor. He was training me, trying to make me a worthy successor to him and all sergeants before him. The men and I have seen how deeply his murder hurt you. Today, seeing your grief, your men learned to love you. I know better than they what his loss means to you. He, like any good teacher, told me everything. And, then having told me, he made me practice. I'm going to put you to sleep the same way he did."
I tried to protest, but he just placed a hand gently in the middle of my chest and slowly, pushed me back onto the bed. Somehow as I went down he managed to get my underpants off me. To my shock and horror, I had a raging hard-on and had been leaking. My skin was pulled back and about three quarters of the head was exposed.
My natural lubricant was flowing freely and seemed to be all over the head and shaft of my cock and running like a river in flood through my pubic bush and down onto my scrotum. The sergeant quickly removed his tunic and bending over me began laving my bag, bush and working his way up, my cock. He had learned his lessons well. By the time he got to the top of my cock I was ready to beg him to take me inside his mouth. But, he didn't make me beg. He hesitated for a moment to build the tension leading to the instant of immersion when my cock was vacuumed into his warm, moist loving, yes, loving, healing mouth. I had had blow jobs before, many blow jobs.
The new sergeant was right. Beginning shortly after the unit's arrival in Afghanistan his predecessor had, on his own initiative, begun coming into my room every night and "sucked me to sleep." He and I would hold "last muster" with the men and then turn their lights out. Then he'd escort me to my room. The first time he'd done it, I thought he was just coming in to discuss something about the unit or perhaps a particular man or two. I had not initiated it. It had been entirely his idea. On the night when it first happened, I'd been exhausted and hadn't realized that he'd entered my room behind me. I had an erection and had just decided to allow it to "wither on the vine" because I wanted sleep more than I wanted to work out an orgasm.
I turned to close the door and there he'd been. His hand immediately found my erection and within seconds the little head had surrendered bringing me along with it. When after each of the first several times, I'd tried to tell him that his blow jobs had to stop, the Army wouldn't like it. He would stand before me and say, "Sir, the Army entrusts its new lieutenants to us sergeants to care for them, training them to be officers and making men of them. I'm not going to fail the army, I'm not going to fail the sergeant who trained me, I'm not going to fail my men, and I'm not going to fail you, Sir. I know what you need even if you don't, or can't admit it. Besides, Sir, in this god awful country what other method is there that is safer for a young officer to keep the most productive of his endocrine glands healthy and drained? Then he'd grabbed my crotch and in only seconds my cock would betray me and go over to his side again. Before long I was well and thoroughly trained or least had stopped putting up an argument and just let him lower my hormone levels for me.
The new sergeant had been carefully and well prepared to step fully into the job he now held. With a mixture of joy and guilt I had an orgasm that took my entire being. I shook like a leaf in a hurricane. Perspiration broke out all over my body. I may even have whimpered like a child. Somebody in that room whimpered If it wasn't me then it had to have been the sergeant.
As my nerve endings were attempting to return to normal, the young sergeant sucked my cock clean, being sure to tongue out under my skin. He then used a cloth he'd gotten from somewhere and gently like a dotting mother dabbed my body dry. He placed the pillow under my head and pulled a blanket up to my chin. I was asleep before he got to the door..
I dreamt of my murdered sergeant. I saw him standing beside the bed smiling. He knew his burden had been accepted by his successor and that he could trust that I'd become the kind of officer he'd been training me to be. When I thought of my feelings of guilt over letting myself be brought to so shattering an orgasm just hours after his death, he threw his head back and laughed. He shook his head gently and smiled at me, letting me realize that this was just one of the contingencies for which he'd prepared. And, to the degree that I felt I needed absolution - he granted it with a laugh. I slept deeply and well and when awakened three hours later, I was completely rested.
The sergeant had sent a private to waken me. He was an attractive youth with pale skin, black hair and Mother Russia's blue eyes. Like any good soldier his abdomen was flat and despite his uniform, his body looked good. I had been sleeping naked, under the blankets. In my post sleep fog, I'd forgotten that I was naked and sat right up. I pivoted on my ass and dropped my legs off the side of the bed. The blanket pulled away from my body until only a very small corner of it remained right over my crotch. The private certainly was enjoying the impromptu strip show he was getting. It was only when I registered his pleasure that I realized how close to total nudity I had come. He knew his place and did not make any advances, but to one who could read another man's reactions, he was laid open like an old book. Actually, his reaction began to process within my mind that developed into a plan, a training system that eventually I'd put into action with startlingly successful results.
I awoke with a huge erection despite the sergeant's tenderly delivered "sleeping aid." The private could not keep his eyes off the evidence of my erection being broadcast by the lump in the blanket where it overlay my crotch. He was damn nearly salivating.
Laughing, I shoved him from the room and dressed. By the time I was back in my uniform, my erection had largely, but not completely deflated. While I put my tunic back on, I hadn't bothered to button it closed. I walked out onto the gallery on the second floor and looked into the garden. The murderer of my sergeant was still tied between the same two columns. He had spent the past three hours watching his protégé servicing a troop of his Union's finest soldiers. The son of a bitch had actually thrown an erection! The boy's body was such a turn on for him that he seemed to no longer mind that the boy he was supposed to protect and love was being serially raped again and again. I called the sergeant over. "Sergeant, have you used the rebel yet?" I asked. "Thank you, Sir, I have. It's been nearly two weeks since I last ejaculated, I was certainly primed for him. First, I slammed into his ass using no lubricant, but the first two pairs had already been there. So, their ejaculate made for a wonderfully slimy lubrication. I'm afraid I didn't last very long there. After I'd shot up into his guts, I stuffed myself into his face and ordered him to clean me off. Frankly, the only stuff on my cock was the semen deposited there by my comrades. His mouth is very talented and in no time he had me hard again. This time I was able to settle in and enjoy a nice slow fuck of his face before I fed him a part of his afternoon meal. To tell you the truth, Lieutenant, I believe that I could handle another go at his tonsils in a few minutes."
I laughed, then gave him his orders. "Sergeant, the murderer of your predecessor seems to be enjoying watching his boy's rapes. I've decided to make it more personal for him. I want you to pick a detail of men and send them out to the market place and into the houses that surround this house. Have them collect the beggars, the ugly, the low class and the very poor plus the male residents who live in close proximity to this house. I want sixteen to twenty picked up. They are to be brought back here, strip searched, then allowed to dress again, but only in their underpants. Then they are to be kept in the salon off the front door. The "recruiting detail" is then to keep them under guard until I return. After you pick the detail, give them their orders and send them out, you are to report to the same room where I had my nap. There you are to strip, climb into the bed and sleep. These are not suggestions, Sergeant. They are orders. . .dismissed." He snapped to attention, saluted and hurried off to comply with his orders.
The young rebel was entertaining a defender of the Soviet homeland at both of his holes. The soldier using his mouth had a firm grip on his ears and the rebel had reached up and was massaging the soldier's ball sack. I stood off to the side to allow the rebel to see me and know that I was watching him. It had seemed that he'd been doing a good enough job before, but after he saw me, I noticed that his head seemed to move a bit more energetically. He was leaking good Soviet semen from his ass as it was being plowed and a stream of lubrication was dripping from the head of his not fully erect cock.
In my peripheral vision, I saw the sergeant instructing the team he'd put together, then as I watched he took them to the front door which was unbolted to allow for their exit. I could tell that he wanted to go with the team, but any good leader has to encourage his men to perform without his presence. As the door boomed shut and the bolt was shot home, he turned and seemed for the first time to show signs of weariness. He trudged up the stair. When he reached the upstairs gallery, his training overcame his weariness and he stood for a minute or two studying the activity below. Seeing it to be as it should, he turned and headed for the bed chamber.
I found the private with the "miracle grip." He's been resting on a garden bench enjoying the show the young rebel was inadvertently providing. In fact, it looked to me as though the private was "recharging his batteries" and might be considering another go at the rebel. I beckoned him to come to me and was pleased to see the alacrity with which he returned to his military demeanor. He presented himself before me, braced to attention, saluted and then awaited my orders. I told him, "Private, this unit will shortly have a vacancy for a junior sergeant as I intend to recommend that our current junior sergeant step into the shoes of our murdered comrade. I am thinking strongly of recommending you for that promotion." He managed to grow even straighter at attention. There was the suggestion of a smile around his lips which quickly gave way to a most serious military expression. "I have sent the sergeant to rest for a bit, he's no good to me if he's exhausted. I have yet some things to do that should take me around a half hour. While I'm gone you are in command. Make sure the men on guard at the doors remain vigilant. There's a recon team out in the town. They'll be coming back reasonably soon. They have their orders. When they've brought their local "volunteers" in, stripped them, searched them, searched their clothing and allowed them to put their underpants back on, their volunteers are then to be kept in the salon, under close guard until I arrive there. Neither the sergeant nor I are to be disturbed. Do you understand your orders?"
He indicated that he'd understood and would to the best of his ability carry them out. "Oh, I almost forgot," I said, as I turned to leave, "the rape of the rebel is to continue until every member of this unit has had his fill, or to be more accurate until the rebel can no longer coax any more good Soviet semen from my soldiers." "Yes, Sir," he answered.
I turned and ascended the staircase to the gallery overlooking the garden. I looked down into the garden and could see that all was as it should be.
General, I had decided to implement a military ideal utilized by one of the most successful military units in history. If I was right (and later events have proven that me to have been), then I was about to build the most tight knit, formidable unit of soldiers the world has seen in the last three thousand years. I was going to reach back into antiquity to the example of Sparta and after them of great Alexander, himself. I had decided to create a completely self-sufficient team of fighting men. They would be taught absolute loyalty to each other individually and to the unit in generally. The Spartans achieved their results by stressing two things; physical preparedness in bodies trained and honed to knife edge perfection and the kind of dedication that men give only to someone they have learned to love.
Yes, General, when I was finished every man would be as perfect physically as I could train him to be and he would know unquestionably that his comrades were too. He would also know that he could trust his life to his comrades because they would also be his lovers. The Spartans had fielded an army of pairs of lovers, theorizing that no man would give less than his absolute best because he'd be unable to stand it if he disgraced himself before his lover. I decide to take that concept one step further and make each man in the unit every man's lover.
He would then have a vested interest in the opinion and welfare of every other man in his unit. I walked out of the gallery and into the bed chamber to begin the process by giving my new sergeant the same kind of gift he'd so recently given me. I entered the room quietly. The sergeant's uniform was neatly folded and resting on the room's only chair - right where I'd left mine so recently. He was lying flat on his back, the blanket pulled up only to his waist. His abdomen and chest were laid out there a playground for my eyes. His body was taut and tight, but he still had the soft velvet skin of youth. I had thought I'd been quiet, but I must have made some small noise because at about the same time I noticed the beginning of a tenting of the bedding over his crotch, I also became aware that his eyes were open and he was looking at me.
When we made eye contact, he made as if to get out of the bed. With a hand gesture I stopped him. "Sergeant," I said to him, "just a few hours ago, you gave me a great gift and after your gift I was able to sleep like a baby. I am not an unfeeling, ungrateful asshole. I have come to return your gift. We are comrades, we have fought together and will fight together again, but as real comrades who have learned to care passionately for each other and for the other men in our unit. I am going to mold this unit into the most fearsome cohesive body of fighting men the wold has seen since Alexander trod these hills and plains. As your Comrade I cannot order you to accept my gift, but as your Comrade I can hope that you will accept it. As both your comrade and your commander, I hope you will join in partnership with me and help me build this unit into what I know we can become."
"Lieutenant," he said, "I'm honored by your confidence and your gift. I accept the gift you bring and the offer of comradeship and challenge you have presented. All I ask is that if I ever fail in my responsibilities to the unit or to you, that you will immediately put a bullet in my brain." He then lay back as I approached the bed. I lowered the bedding to the foot of the bed, past his feet. I had laid him bare from his head to the soles of his feet. His cock was rigid and leaking his clear lubricant into a pool centered on his navel. I extended my finger into the pool, wetted it thoroughly then brought it to my mouth to taste. It was almost completely tasteless except for the slightest suggestion of sweetness.
I reached down and gathering his nut sack into my hands weighed his balls. They felt good in my hand and I could tell that he found the sensation pleasing too, as at that moment a large dollop of his clear juice plopped out and onto his abdomen. I leaned forward and inhaled his scent. He smelled of young man and sex. I found that scent intoxicating. I licked out with my tongue and tasted his balls, first one then the other. I let my tongue trace up the length of his cock and just as I arrived at the head another large dollop of his juice was delivered. I did not allow it to fall, but sucked it directly into my mouth, savoring his essence.
Holding his cock in my hand I looked up to his face. It was a mask of wonder, joy and happiness. The knowledge that I was able to bring these sensations to another gave me a huge feeling of power and awe. Quickly, I leaned forward and vacuumed his navel, wiping it clean with my tongue.
We didn't have the kind of time I would have liked to have for a slow and caring build up. We were soldiers on maneuvers and there were things that needed doing, so I returned to his cock and licked it's length making sure to drink down any new offerings of his juices as they arrived. In no time I had him twitching on the bed, whimpering.
But, I am a merciful man, General and brought his cock into my mouth and began to slide my head up and down on it. He was delicious. As my mouth rode his cock my hands kneaded his balls in their sweet sack. In just a few short minutes he was trying to shoot the back of my head off with his bullets of semen as they rocketed out of his cock. Now, I had his most intimate product, I was being offered the glory of his most private gift. I accepted it greedily and sucked it down as if afraid that he'd take it back and I'd have none. With each volley his entire body twitched, his back arched up off the bed and it was all he could do to stifle his urge to shout, to celebrate his maleness. At that moment, I fell in love with the first of my soon to be many lovers/comrades.
As he came down from his euphoria, I pulled the blankets up slowly. I had kept him still in my mouth. I didn't want to miss any of the last drips and drops as they made their way up his sweet tube. Finally, I cleaned him with my tongue and then covered him with the bedding and left him to sleep.
End of chp. 8