SSGT Jason “Kick” Harris had to piss fuckin’ wicked. He and his buds from the base at Twentynine Palms had been throwing down pitchers of beer for several hours. It was his last day as an active. He would always be a Marine, but after eight years active, it was time to age out and enter the civilian world. His farewell party at Houlihan’s was winding down, with lots of drunken man-hugs, gut-jabs, and “oohrahs” as his fellow Marine brothers said their goodbyes. As the last of his friends left, Kick ambled to the head to piss out some beer.
Among the rowdy bar crowd, Kick had not seen the imposing figure in the far corner, watching his every move, waiting for an ambush reunion with the muscle-bound Marine.
Kick stepped up to the trough urinal, unzipped, and pulled out his hefty, flaccid, eight inch dick and began to piss. He braced his firm, jock frame against the wall using his left arm as he relieved his bursting bladder. He didn’t notice the bathroom door open or the hulking man dressed in BDU cargo pants and USMC tank top enter and stand behind him.
“Corporal Harris,” the stranger’s deep voice spoke.
“It’s ex-Staff Sergeant Harris now, and who the fuck wants to know?” Kick replied in his drunken Boston accent.
“Listen, boy, I made you a tough Marine, but I can still bust your ass, soldier,” the commanding voice replied.
“Master Gunnery Sergeant Dawkins?” Kick asked, amazed, as he worked his cock back into his jeans and turned to face the stranger. A look of boyish joy crossed Kick’s handsome face, immediately suppressed by a look of respect as his eyes focused through his beer-haze, recognizing his former Drill Instructor. MGS Jack “Ram” Dawkins looked down at the young Marine with a stern gaze that only hinted of friendliness. “Semper fi, soldier. You still look in perfect Marine form, boy. Full spec. And I can see that you’ve been hitting the weights.” the Drill Instructor said, taking a full body scan of the firm young soldier in front of him before locking his eyes with the green eyes of the blushing younger man.
“Semper fi, sir. Yes, sir, workin’ out every day, sir,” Kick addressed his former DI. “But as of today, I am no longer an active, sir. Going civvy, sir.”
“I know, soldier, but all that kick-ass training I drilled into you doesn’t fade that fast, right, boy? The Corps will always be inside you, and I’m here to retrain you for your future now that you’re going native,” Ram affirmed. “ I retired from active duty last year, but I’ve come back to arrange your new life, soldier.”
“Sir, yes sir. But what do you mean, exactly, sir?” Kick asked, in confused disbelief.
A knowing grin crossed MGS Dawkin’s face. Every time he reclaimed a former grunt like this, he loved the pure power this next act of domination delivered.
“Obey to your Drill Sergeant’s orders, recruit. Look into my eyes,” Ram began. He reached out his right hand and held the younger man’s face firmly toward his, the unsuspecting beefy Marine already falling helplessly under his command. “Back in boot, you remember the hard physical and mental tests I put you through?”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir, but you did it to make me a better Marine, sir.” Kick replied.
“Half right, soldier,” Ram responded. “Because though you can’t remember this just yet, I also trained you to be my cock-hungry piece of Marine ass, too.”
Confused, and filling with rage, Kick started to recoil, wanting to fight. But he couldn’t break the penetrating gaze of the confident Drill Instructor. Kick stood there, held powerless by Ram’s commanding stare.
“Corporal Jason Harris,” Ram continued, pronouncing sentence, “God may own your soul, and your mother may own your heart, but your ass will always belong to me.”
When he heard those once-familiar words, Kick’s conscious free will collapsed. That potent phrase discharged inside the young Marine’s mind, detonating a deeply embedded mental trigger. Mind-fucked and obedient, Kick dropped reflexively to his knees, clasped his arms behind his back and bowed his head in full surrender to his Drill Sergeant.
“Corporal Jason Harris, sir, ready and eager to please you, sir,” Kick humbly spoke.
Ram stood there, towering over the subservient Marine, feeling absolute power, like he always did in these perfect moments. Ram had retaken complete control over the butch, mind-fucked Marine. Ram’s thick ten-inch cock woke restless inside his fatigues, anticipating the Marine power-fuck that was now imminent. “Corporal Jason Harris, remember the special training I drilled into you, the special training concealed deep in your mind. Remember that you are an obedient soldier, and remember that you want only to please your Drill Sergeant.”
A landmine of deep-hidden memories exploded in the younger man’s mind, suppressed memories of boot camp, memories of both exquisite pain and pleasure. Kick’s body flexed and twitched, responding in muscle memory to flash-images of himself, completely naked, his ass impaled on his Drill Instructor’s huge erect penis. He remembered shooting multiple loads of jizz onto the barracks floor while he kneeling obediently in front of his DI learning to suck his first cock. He could again remember the warm, ropy feel, and pungent taste of man-cum as he was force-fed scalding loads of his Master Sergeant’s ejaculate. Before, these had been fleeting images that surfaced in the wet-dream split-seconds between sleep and conscious life. Now, they were fully-formed realities. Aroused by these memories, Kick’s muscles pumped with blood and his asshole began to contract. His swelling cock strained full against his jock and a vacant look of sated, horny lust spread across his face.
Raising his eyes to meet his DI’s gaze, the mind-fucked soldier begged, “Please, sir, Please let me serve you again , sir. I remember now that I have waited, always worshipping you, sir, always hoping I could pleasure you again, sir.”
Ram felt victorious. “I am pleased that you remember your training, soldier. You are an exemplary, red-blooded Marine. The Corps made you into a man, but your Drill Instructor is about to remake you into a boy. A godamn dick-cravin’ fuck-boy, soldier!”
Blushing from the compliment, and excited at the thought of serving his DI again, Kick pleaded, “Take me, sir, I am ready and eager to serve you, sir”
“Soon enough, soldier. But not here. Get up, and follow me to my truck. We’re going to my place.”
The beefy Marine obediently followed his Drill Instructor outside. They drove off into the desert night.
Ram and his new acquisition drove out of Twentynine Palms, across the desert toward his home in Palm Springs. Zoned out, Jason “Kick” Harris sat next to the hulking DI, his mind drifting in a warm sea of reacquired memories, a wet precum stain marking the crotch of his jeans that covered the bulging mound of his boy-cock.
As he drove through the dark desert night, Ram reflected upon his Marine career and his new lucrative business. From the age of eighteen, Ram had been career Corps. He even got his nickname “Ram” in boot camp from a fellow recruit who saw him naked in the shower and told the entire input “Corporal Dawkins is concealimg a fuckin’ ‘Ramrod’ in his BDUs.” After graduation from boot, “Ram” quickly made ranks to Master Gunnery Sergeant. A pre-Corps background in marshal arts and weaponry proved his great value to the Marine Corps, and in return, the Corps invested heavily in him. They sent him to various tech schools, but he discovered his true talent working for PSY-OPS, Psychological Operations and Logistics. An instant expert, Ram had quick success acquiring intel for the Corps. He worked overseas in covert ground-ops behind enemy lines. Ram perfected control of his own keen mind and found he could, at will, control the minds of others. He could exploit the fears and weaknesses of his subject to assert his own dominance. Foreign combatants could not resist him. With no physical torture, just carefully directed psychological manipulation, he could open the mind of his target, even against their conscious will, and force the combatant to yield, revealing valued information. Ram’s natural dominance and strong mind would quickly have the toughest enemy soldiers eating out of his hand (often literally).
After taking a bullet during recon in Mozambique, Ram returned stateside. Despite offers to work at the Pentagon, Ram requested assignment as a Drill Instructor. He wouldn’t play the political game of D.C.. Instead, he used his impressive skills working with young Marines, molding slack recruits into perfect soldiers. A true man’s man, Ram produced input after input of the best Marines ever to serve in the Corps. He broke his enlistees down, both physically and mentally, forcing them to submit to the Code of the Corps Then he rebuilt perfect soldiers from the broken ranks. Young and scared, exhausted and sleep-deprived, every new recruit under his command was utterly prone to direct and indirect domination by the handsome, confident, father-like Drill Instructor. Craving structure and acceptance, most recruits were putty in his firm hands. On the rare occasions when he did encounter a code-bucking trouble-maker, Ram would order the wayward grunt to his private office for a few, “intense sessions” after lights-out, where he would “rearrange the priorities” of the rogue recruit, bringing him back firmly into the ranks of the Few and the Proud. Usually, these visits were just for an attitude adjustment. Using his special skill, Ram would crack open the mind of a problem recruit and help him to see the strait and narrow. Most often, the mind-altered recruit would soon rise to become the shining star of that input, clear testament to Ram’s ability.
About the time Corporal Jason “Kick” Harris enlisted, Ram was planning his life post-Corps. He didn’t live or want an extravagant life, but even simple pleasures had cost. And while a full military pension was stable, Ram realized his special ability could serve to generate a well-endowed retirement and bring him great pleasure en route to that goal.
Ram was no limp-wristed faggot. He was a real Marine. Oohrah. Still, he did enjoy the camaraderie of rough-and-rowdy, man-to-man sex. If it was USMC, after all, it wasn‘t queer.
Ram had dated women, sure, but he never understood the bitches. And worse, because he couldn’t comprehend the irrational workings of the female mind, he couldn’t use his ability to bend a woman to his will. A man, on the other hand, and especially a horny young man, was easy to control and dominate. Simple, driven by basic needs, a man is always an easy target for exploitation. Drill uncertainty into the mind of a man, then offer a simple way to relieve the fear and confusion, and Bam!, a natural born cocksucker working your dick, obedient and ready to submit to an alpha male. And Ram never missed an opportunity to park his ample fuck-tool up the virgin ass of a hot new recruit, or blow his wad down the gullet of a fellow officer.
In his twenty years as a Marine, Ram had served the Corps well, and many in the Corps had serviced him well in return.
So, while still in the Corps, Ram began a lucrative side-venture. Perfectly trained Marine grunt fuck-boys, available at premium market value, to select, wealthy clients. Tailor-made, muscle-bound sex slaves. Not prissy, polished rent-boys. Real Marines. The Few and the Proud. Trained to serve eagerly and without question.
In a short amount of time, Ram flushed out an extensive, fully-stocked stable of virile studs, hard-muscled, handsome, hormone-packed thoroughbreds, totally devoted to servicing him, and, by transference, any client. For a price The commissions and cash poured in.
Ram culled the sexiest, most physically arousing young colts from the various inputs, and worked the recruits mind (and ass) over during special, after-hours training sessions. He rewired the soldier’s subconscious mind, turning him into an eager grunt fuck-boy, desperate to please. Ram never selected the weak-of-mind or fags. Ram instinctively knew the weak would easily fall from training, and fags wanted it too bad. A strong, virile recruit, on the other hand, was tougher to rein in. But when he was finally broken, mounted and ridden hard, the disciplined recruit would never waiver from his training. And besides, Ram loved the challenge and ultimate reward of breaking the will of a hard-ass recruit, turning him into a mind-fucked, sex-craved cum-hole.
Ram always selected the best candidates, one or two per input, broke them down, trained them in the skills of man-lust, then suppressed their new-found passions until they left the Corps. After their duty tour was over, Ram would find them again, re-assert control, and train them for a new, sex-filled life as willing slave. Just as he had now taken his current passenger, Corporal Jason Harris. After eight years in this enterprise, Ram had banked several million dollars and “trained” fifty recruits. To date, he had sold off thirty-five All-American boys to thirty -five of America’s wealthiest leaders.
As Ram and Jason approached his Palm Spring’s home, Ram reflected on his first encounter with Corporal Jason “Kick“ Harris, his finest stallion from a pen-ultimate field of candidates as far as rough-and-rowdy Marine ass was concerned. Jason, Ram remembered, was barely eighteen when he enlisted. From the moment he saw this stud-pup, head freshly buzzed, attired in Corps-issued fatigues, Ram knew this would be his finest recruit yet. Jason was from a broken home in Boston, crack-whore mom and absent father. A natural athlete, Jason had excelled at sports. He wasn’t book smart, but Jason was street-smart and eager. Jason joined the Corps to escape jail time for a minor offense, petty theft to help his mom raise rent. When she overdosed, Jason, homeless, joined up to escape the streets. Half Irish, half Portuguese, Jason was perfect “Boston Blend.” At the time of enlisting, Jason was 5’8, 185#. He had pale skin with freckles on his arms, neck and face, contrasted with black hair and playful green eyes. A high school athlete in wrestling and football, he was solid-built, dense-packed with young muscle A disarming smile, and despite a difficult past, pleasantly open and friendly.
But even before Ram saw the front side of this new recruit, he noticed Jason’s spectacular grunt ass. Muscled and beefy, Ram saw the new enlistee’s ass straining tight in his camos as he bent down to help his fellow recruits retrieve their duffles from the bus that brought them to boot camp. The rugged Drill Sergeant knew instantly that this prime ass would soon be humping on his powerful ten-inch dick, begging for an injection of his DI jizz. Ram would patiently wait to catch Jason committing a an egregious infraction that would demand an after-hours “visit” to his private office.
Reviewing the new recruits as they stood in ramshackle formation, the randy Drill Instructor saw that Jason wasn’t the only possible target of opportunity. Also in the new input was a young recruit from Colorado, Justin McCord. Taller and leaner than Jason, Ram saw great potential in Justin as well. 20 years old, 6”0 tall and strongly muscled, Justin had been a ranch hand back home and enlisted in the Marines “to get the hell out of Wray, Colorado, to see the world and fuck hot foreign pussy.” Ram decided Justin would soon be changing his mind about that pussy.
During the second week of basic, Ram caught Jason and his new pal Justin trying to sneak out at night to light up, and Drill Sergeant Ram instantly had the perfect opportunity to spring his trap. He sent Jason back to bed to think about the discipline that awaited him, and took Justin to his office for private counseling. Within the hour, Ram had scared rational, conscious thought straight out of Justin and had him begging that he would “do anything” to avoid being sent home. The intimidating Drill Instructor held Justin’s complete will in his hand, so he offered the newly mind-fucked Corporal McCord the opportunity to “work off” his penance by licking his beefy DI ass. Ram ordered Justin to stand and strip, then had him remove his own uniform. Once naked, Ram turned his big muscled ass toward Justin and ordered him to kneel and worship. Justin, tormented and terrified, tentatively pressed his lips against Ram’s big beefy ass. But then, just like with every mind-fucked recruit, Justin’s will yielded and then snapped, as he surrendered to his inner need to be dominated. With increasing desire and fervor, Justin began licking and biting the beautiful ass of his DI. Feeling that precious instant of surrender, Ram reveled in the powerful stimulus and ground his raunchy ass back into the recruit’s eager face. Corporal McCord, now claimed property of his DI, buried his face deep between the muscular butt-cheeks and forced his tongue deep into Ram’s shit-chute. Reduced to an obedient and subservient brown-noser, Justin “Asslick” McCord jacked off while eating out his DI’s beefy ass. As the newly christened “(As)Slick” shot his excited load all over himself, Ram dismounted the mind-fucked recruit, turned to face him, and fired off his violent spray of cum all over the dominated soldier’s face and torso. Ram smiled a wicked grin watching “Slick” scoop up the spent cum from his chest and lick it from his hand. As they both came down from the sex-driven high, Ram placed Justin into a waking trance, vulnerable to suggestion. Ram then imprinted Slick with the trigger phrase “God may own your soul…” That phrase would instantly return Corporal McCord’s obedience, yet suppress the recent memories until summoned. Ram put his skivvies on again but kept the young soldier naked. Ram sent Slick out to bring Jason to his office to mete out his “punishment.”
Scared shitless, Jason entered Ram’s office with the surprisingly calm Justin. Jason was frightened, but not so much that he failed to notice the his sweaty, stripped-down Drill Sergeant casually lounged on the office sofa or the scent of musky, humid man-sex. Jason noticed Justin immediately kneel at the feet of the nearly naked, hulking Drill Instructor, so Jason did like-wise. With the dominating voice he had perfected with PSY-OPS, Ram began his induction/discipline, “Corporal Jason Harris, neither I nor the Corps look kindly on your violation of the code of conduct, and I see no reason that I should allow you to remain among the Few and the Proud. The Marines have a strict code of conduct, and you and young Corporal “Slick” McCord here seem bent on insulting the honor of the finest men that have fought for the integrity of the world’s finest military. What do you say for yourself, grunt?”
Terrorized, Jason looked to his pal Justin for support, but Jason saw his friend kneeling quietly at the feet of the seated DI, a look of mindless pleasure across his face, oblivious to the accusations Jason had to face.
“Sir, please, sir” Jason began, “I didn’t mean to…”
“Didn’t mean?” the angry Drill Sergeant mimicked, “Didn’t mean to insult the memory of every Marine who gave his life for our great country?”
“No, no, sir, please, sir, I will do anything, sir, just please overlook my mistake, I promise I won’t fuck up again.” Jason pleaded.
Turning his attention to the mind-fucked Justin, Ram spoke, “Corporal, what can Jason here do to correct the sin against the Corps that he has committed?”
Suddenly animated from his trance-like state, Corporal Justin “Slick” McCord responded in subservient voice, “God may own my soul, and my mother may own my heart, but my ass belongs to you, sir.” Then, Jason watched in amazement, and peaking sexual arousal as his pal Justin leaned forward and removed the DI‘s skivvies, freeing the swelling cock, which slapped hard up against the macho DI’s abs. Stunned by the sight, Jason watched slack-jawed as Justin blissfully kissed the swelling crown of his Drill Sergeant’s tool, then engulfed the appendage deep into his throat, sucking furiously on the menacing, fierce ten-inch fuck-tool.
Returning his attention to Jason, his dick fully engulfed in Corporal McCord’s throat, Ram spoke the words that would help shatter Corporal Harris’ will. “Jason, my hot-assed, fuck-able boy, just as your fellow recruit now understands, your personal path to redemption is right before you. Please me, and you are right with the Corps. Disappoint me, and the Corps is your enemy. Learn from your friend here, and submit to me now.
Before Jason even had time to weigh the option, he found himself kneeling at his DI’s crotch beside Justin, licking at the Drill Sergeant’s plump, sweat-soaked balls, and tag-teaming a novice blowjob with his pal. Jason’s eyes were unbreakably locked on Ram’s, and he realized then that his DI had held perfect control over him since the moment he had met this powerful, ideal, real man. Servicing his DI would be the most perfect thing he could do in his grunt life.
Though he was enjoying the wild double blowjob, Ram lusted for more from his two sexy recruits. “Jason, take off your skivvies and straddle my chest with your ‘kick-ass’ butt, soldier.” His tongue still eagerly lapping at his DI’s pendulous balls, Jason snaked out of his underwear, then rose to straddle Ram‘s muscled torso. He kept his eyes locked with his DI’s as he settled across the older man’s six-pack abs, his ass bumping the base of the DI’s cock. Corporal Harris’ erect, eight-inch cock rubbed along Ram’s sternum, leaking cock-snot between his massive, pumped pectorals. Ram slid his hands down under Jason’s thighs, and slowly raised the hunky recruit up, placing the tip of his cock firmly against Jason’s asshole. Reflexively, Jason’s sphincter winked, kissing the hot, angry cockhead. “Corporal McCord, prepare your fellow soldier here for his next maneuver.” Obediently, Slick worked his tongue up along his DI’s shaft, across the crown, then across Jason’s blushing asshole. Jason’s body convulsed in lust as the warm tongue teased and opened his chute, only to be replaced after each pass by the DI’s searing hot cockhead. Each alternating swipe of Justin’s tongue sank Ram’s cock deeper into Jason’s hole. After only a few minutes, Jason was writhing up and down on his DI’s fuck-weapon, trying to mount the engorged dick. Justin’s next swipe brought Jason’s fuck-bud to open bloom, moist, hot, ready for deflowering. Jason’s head rolled back in carnal lust, a signal to Ram that the boy was primed for all-out assault. In lightening-quick strike-force ambush, Ram bucked straight up into the soldier and plowed his massive weapon brutally past Jason’s sphincter, impaling the recruit on the full ten inches of his proud USMC manhood.
Conquered, Jason’s eyes flared wide open, a look of rapture beaming from his face. His eyes locked into Ram’s. He lustily groaned, “Oh, god, oh, sir, oh please, sir. Please take me, take my grunt ass, I need your powerful cock deep inside me, sir” Jason, his mind on auto-pilot, began to “kick” up and down on his Drill Instructor’s cock, rising up quick then slowly sliding back down the long shaft. The erotic friction and deep drilling of Ram’s cock into his hunky little boy-hole drove out all thoughts except needful lust.
Ram, fully aroused from his complete power over the two hot recruits, plowed his cock mercilessly into the finest Marine ass he had ever taken. He reached up and tugged aggressively on the tight pink nipples that poked out from Jason’s heaving, sweaty pecs, alternately pinching and twisting them, eliciting primal moans of pagan lust from the impaled Marine fuck-boy. “Yes, sir, oh fuck, fuck me wicked with your huge dick, fuck me, breed my fucking hole, sir,” Jason cried out in mind-fucked passion.
Corporal McCord, still kneeling, actively witnessed the full-scale invasion, his own cock painfully erect, watching Ram’s weapon furiously penetrate, then withdraw from Jason’s conquered boy-hole in violent assault. He frantically licked Ram’s balls, tasting the musky mixture of spit, man-sweat, and ass-juice. He could feel the DI’s large cum-filled balls begin to tighten and contract, as the rutting Drill Sergeant prepared to unload a shock-and-awe payload of man-seed up into his pal’s surrendered ass.
A first-hand participant in this wild Marine mating, Justin blew first, firing a live round of boy-cum upward in an arc, spraying his ejaculate across Jason’s impaled ass. His jizz dripped down Jason’s creamy white butt onto Ram’s cock, adding dangerous lubrication to the piston ass-fuck Jason was receiving. Still captured in mind-fucked lust, he licked his own cum off the flexing ass of his buddy, lapping up pearls of cum-spray that glistened on the perfect, round globes of Jason’s ass.
Locked in violent, heated rutting, Jason could feel the Drill Sergeant’s fuck-jabs becoming urgent, and the thought of this virile, macho, older Marine firing his seed up his grunt-ass drove the young soldier over the edge. Jason fired off, shooting six desperate volleys of cum across his DI’s chest.
The added lube from Justin and Jason’s erratic cum-spasms drove Ram past the point of return. He pinned Jason deep down onto his cock and tried fiercely to keep from cumming. Realizing he was too far gone, he shouted out in gutteral tone, “Corporal Jason ‘Kick-Ass’ Harris, this scorching hot butt belongs to me, you fuckin’…hot…fuckin’…cum-hole!” And with that, he unloaded a potent quart of grade-A Marine jizz deep into “Kick,” his newly anointed perfect Marine ass.
Master Gunnery Sergeant Dawkins and the two corporals would repeat this scene nightly, over and over again, for the remainder of boot camp. “Kick” and “Slick” became exemplary Marines by day, and Ram’s obedient fuck-boys after lights-out.
“God may own your soul, and your mother may own your heart, but your ass belongs to me.” Indeed.
When not plowing Kick’s ass or pummeling Slick’s throat with his always-ready Marine cock, Ram would re-enforce the young recruits’ mind-altering trances, conditioning them to be perfect Marine grunts and implanting the trigger phrase that would again turn them into wild-fucking sex slaves at the future date of his choosing.
When Justin left the Corps, after four years and two decorated missions, Ram reacquired the talented ass-licking cowboy, and sold Corporal Justin “Slick” McCord off to a wealthy, sexy, and hung rancher who owned a big cattle spread in eastern Colorado. Ram loved the irony that the lad who so desperately wanted to run “as far from that fuckin’ place” as he could, now was the happiest fuckin’ cowboy on the western plains. Ram never did fuck “Slick.” He knew that the right client would want an ass-virgin. And sure enough, the rancher who paid $500,000 for the prize young colt specifically wanted the pleasure of breaking Slick in personally. Slick now spent his days happily riding mount across the largest spread in Colorado, and spent his nights spreading his legs and happily mounting the largest cock in that state. Slick’s transference to his new owner was seamless. A wealthy, handsome cowboy wrangler with a huge cock to service, what more could any country boy need?
Ram’s thoughts returned to the present as he and Kick pulled up to his Palm Spring’s ranch house. Ram ordered Kick to follow him inside, go to the kitchen, and bring him a beer. After pulling off his military-issue boots, Ram turned the living room lights down to set a seductive mood and settled onto the couch. Kick humbly entered the room and handed Ram his beer, then stood before the sexy Master that had come for him after eight years. “Listen to me, boy. You know I’ve owned your perfect ass the entire time we’ve been apart. And I’m pleased you’ve taken such fine care of my property. Strip naked for me, soldier, tell me and show me what you’ve done to remain in USMC-spec shape.”
Kick wanted nothing more to be naked again in front of his Drill Sergeant, and he began blathering out his workout routine while tearing off his clothes “Slow down, Marine,” Ram ordered. “We both have nothing but time to enjoy this reunion. I’m going nowhere, and you don’t meet your new owner for several days, yet”.
Confused, Kick slow down his stripping and tears began to fill his eyes. “Sir, what do you mean? I’ve waited obediently to serve you again, sir. For eight years I never even had sex, except when I woke up covered with my own cum, dreaming fleetingly of you deep-fucking me. I could never serve another man.”
“You feel that way now, soldier. But I will teach you to crave your new Master, one who’s paid a high commission for you. You will surrender your soul, heart and ass to him soon.”
“My soul and ass, yes, sir. But I will never give my heart to anyone but you, sir” Kick replied.
Ram had never seen this much devotion in a recruit. He was taken back. But this disturbing turn from erotic, man-to-man sex to romantic, faggy reunion wasn’t within Ram’s scope of understanding. Sure, Ram appreciated fucking a hot boy-ass or shooting a payload of cum down a willing soldier’s throat, but he wasn’t a fuckin’ faggot, for Christ’ sake. Irritated by Kick‘s queer-ass declaration, Ram responded “Listen, soldier, you may be a perfectly trained and talented piece of ass, but you’re also a very valuable commodity, and your new Master has paid extremely good money for you. I will make you want him and need to serve him, understand?”
“Yes, sir”, Kick replied, rubbing the tears from his eyes. Kick quickly understood the truth of the situation. He knew that pleasing Ram was to obey him without question, and he fully accepted that his Drill Sergeant was always right. After all, Kick thought, Ram wasn’t a fuckin’ lovelorn fag, and neither was he. They were both virile, manly Marines with a mission. Ram’s mission was to train him. And his mission was to please his Drill Instructor.
“Now,” the dominant DI continued, “let me look at you. Turn around and show me your fuck-craved grunt ass, boy.”
As Kick slowly turned, flexing his packed muscles for his DI, Ram was impressed with the improvement upon perfection Kick had become. Kick’s strong defined arms flexed as he struck a series of bodybuilding poses. Kick displayed his sculpted shoulders, which had rounded out fully since Ram trained him back in boot. His chest was not much bigger, but the muscles were more dense and laid broader across his chest. Kick’s torso was patterned with soft black chest hair that spread across his pecs, tapering down across his tight abs toward his fully erect cock which arced up rakishly from the short, curly black pubes covering his crotch and balls. His thighs and calves were now more deeply cut, but still thick and powerful. Though Kick’s face was ruggedly handsome, his close-cropped, wavy black hair made this twenty-six year old man still look boyish and innocent. In the last eight years, Kick had transformed to become an ideal slave-boy, virile and seductive, but still na�ve and youthful.
As Kick turned to expose his muscled backside, Ram drew an appreciative gasp of air. Kick revealed his perfectly muscled ass. Two round, sculpted mounds of beefy boy-butt, creamy white and un-tanned, flexed with each subtle movement, balancing atop his thick, trunk-like legs. Kick bent slightly, and the beefy mounds parted. At the base of a vapor-thin line of silky dark hair lining his ass-crack, Kick’s tender boy-hole winked slightly, tickled by the cool air.
Exposed and blushing, innocent and yearning, Kick’s mind and body aroused, the young soldier waited in anticipation of a perfect reunion with his Drill Instructor.
Overcome with raging lust as the beautiful boy posed seductively, Ram rose from the couch, scooped the sexy Marine off his feet into his strong arms, and carried him to the bedroom. Both Ram and Kick had waited eight years for this reunion, and the horny Drill Sergeant was determined to fuck the faggot right out of this submissive, sex-starved muscle soldier.
Ram threw Kick down on all-fours on the bedroom floor. Kick quickly regained his bearings and assumed his most submissive pose, on his knees, hands clasped behind his back and head bent. “Corporal Jason Harris, sir, ready and eager to service you, sir.”
Tearing off his tank top and throwing it into the corner, Ram commanded, “Look at me, soldier. Look at your Drill Instructor when he is talking to you.” Kick’s eyes snapped up to look at the man he would only have for a few days. He wanted to remember every small detail of the perfect man that he might only be allowed to worship for a short while longer.
Ram was a hulking, muscled, man’s man. A brutally square jaw and a flat-top haircut framed his strong face. Bristly salt-and-pepper hair, cropped tight on the sides blended into the dark brown, crisp flat-top. His eyes were deep-set and penetrating, so dark that they appeared solid black. His brow was heavy and prominent, like a wild animal. His full, snarling lips and bright white teeth completed the image of a dangerous predator ready to devour it’s captured quarry. His strong neck, tendons flaring, held the DI’s masculine face atop Ram’s broad shoulders, which heaved up and down as he breathed deeply, aroused, excited, alert. Ram’s round biceps and jutting triceps flexed eagerly, even in repose. Across his broad thick chest, a carpet of wiry brown hair covered his pecs and slightly protruding, muscled gut. His brown chest hair swirled around each pec, circling the warm brown tits that jutted prominently out from the base of each of his tensed football-sized pecs. The brown swirls unified into chevrons on his abs, directing Kick’s eyes toward the ten-inch killer dick, arcing fiercely upwards from Ram’s crotch. Hanging close beneath his cock, Ram’s ball-sack was smooth-shaved. It slowly rose and fell, responding to each breath and slight pulse of the powerful ramrod it served.
As Ram slowly turned from Kick, his thick, trunk-like legs flexed and strained. Coming into view, Kick gasped at the sight of the beefy slabs of his DI’s ass. Unlike his own round, pale melons, Ram’s tanned butt-cheeks were squared blocks of muscles and tendons, which pulled away from each other at the base, revealing a fur-lined brown asshole. Each defined fiber of ass-muscle contracted and relaxed alternately as they supported the weight of Ram’s thick torso and controlled the powerful legs beneath. Kick imagined this beefy ass flexing and straining as it drove his Drill Sergeant’s meaty cock harder and deeper into his own fuck-hole. As Kick thought about this, a puppyish whimper escape his lips, which broke the silent tension in the room.
“Crawl over here, boy, and rim your fuck-master’s manhole.” Ram commanded.
Obediently, Kick crawled over and rose to his haunches, braced his hands astride each bulky flank, and placed his face between Ram’s meaty globes. The ripe, sweaty, pheromone-laden musk was intoxicating, and it sparked a feral lust in Kick. He began to swipe his tongue across the older soldier’s hole, back and forth, then circling, then finally jabbing directly in to the pulsing folds. The taste of real man, undiluted and raw, made him greedy for more, a voracious hunger he would never satiate. Standing dominantly over his ass-lick Marine, Ram exhausted a wild growl, animal in nature, a mating call warning of the fucking Kick would soon receive.
Ram placed a huge hand against Kick’s bucking head, and shoved hard, sending the young man flailing backwards onto his ass. “Get your fuckin’ ass up on the bed, grunt, and get ready for that wet-dream fucking you’ve creamed yourself over for so long,” Ram barked. Kick scrambled up and climbed the bed, his heaving chest flat on the cover, arms stretched upwards, his prize-winning ass presented to Ram. Angled up toward his Drill Instructor, Kick’s smooth white mounds pulled gently apart, and his boy-hole aimed directly at the powerful weapon that bounced heavily from Ram’s loin as he approached. Ram was lust-driven as he prepared to mount the eager Marine. He stepped up between Kick’s legs and used his haunches to further spread Kick’s legs apart.
“Sweet fuckin’ ass, soldier” escaped his lips as he beheld the prone boy beneath him. Grabbing his huge dick Ram drizzled a bit of spit onto his cockhead and wedged the tip of his dick against Kick’s pink fuck-bud. The slippery saliva and the viscose pre-cum adding moisture to Kick’s excited state helped ease the opening of the soldier’s eager hole. Ram grabbed Kick at the waist and pulled him back toward his erect cock. With blunt, deliberate force, the enormous cockhead began to probe into the surrendering ass, demanding entrance into Kick‘s fuck-slot.
“Oh, sir, yes, yes, take me hard, take my ass, I want your huge dick up my fuckin’ grunt ass,” Kick pleaded.
“Yeah, baby,” Ram growled through gritted teeth, “Yeah, open up for your man. He wants to breed your sweet ass, and he’s gonna fill it up with man-dick and man-cum.”
Submitting to the desire in these mind-fucking words, Kick’s fuck-ring surrendered and Ram’s turgid cock plowed into the young Marine’s ass unimpeded. Ram drove his weapon deep into the boy, the invasion arrested only when his huge balls refused to enter Kick’s tunnel. Slowly withdrawing, Ram looked down at the mighty weapon exiting Kick’s hole, and he could feel Kick’s muscles flexing, trying desperately to grasp the slickened cock inside him. Withdrawing deliberately, Ram could feel the silky ass walls stroke his mighty cock. Then, just as the crown resisted against the exit point of Kick’s tunnel, the Drill Sergeant drove back in. Ram’s boy-fuck was full-on.
When Ram began the full-out assault on the Kick’s greedy grunt-hole, Kick became frantic. Overpowered by the onslaught, he rode waves of utter torment back and forth, synchronized to each thrust of Ram’s cock. He tumbled in exquisite agony each time Ram withdrew, then rose up buoyant onto each new wave of ecstatic carnal lust as Ram re-entered. Kick shoved his ass up hard to meet Ram’s cock, then clamped down hard to tightly squeeze the shaft and delay it’s withdrawal.
Usually, Ram could park his dick up a hot ass, work it for hours, rough and hard, then slow and easy, until he decided he was ready to blow. But, damn it all, Ram thought, this boy was just too much. Kick was every bit the perfect bottom to match his perfect top. This grunt was so naturally skilled at man-holing that Ram’s cock seemingly had no control. The young soldier’s ass was forcing his cock to give up it’s prized man-seed. Ram doubted he would be able to fend off creaming inside the boy for long. But then Ram quickly thought of a quick counter-offensive.
Almost ready to cum, Ram pulled Kick hard and deep onto his tool. “God damn it, soldier,” Ram yelled, “You fuckin’ greedy little cum-crazed Marine, you think you can get my man-spunk that easy? I’ll show you who will win this battle.”
Ram gave Kick two, short, violent thrusts, while holding the boy firm against his crotch. Then, as his balls pulled tight, and began to send a heavy torrent of cum firing down cock-shaft, Ram swiftly ripped his dick out of Kick’s ass, retreating at lightening speed, leaving Kick’s shocked fuck-hole gaping and desperately empty.
His entire body in a feral rut, Ram grabbed his throbbing cock, and sandwiched it between the two fleshy rounds of Kick’s ass. Aiming the hyper-stimulated head at the small flat spot at the base of Kick’s back, Ram’s weapon discharged, firing the first high-caliber shots of cum spraying along the boy’s tapered back, then unloading heavy, sperm-loaded ropes of cum into a puddle in the small indentation at the base of the boy’s spine.
Feeling the live-rounds of man-shot ripping into his flesh, combined with a disorienting trauma in his vacated grunt hole, Kick yelped and convulsed. Helpless to control himself, his own fuck-rifle opened fire, cumming in wild, panicky bursts, desperate to match the powerful thrusts of cum firing onto his back, and utterly broken by the reality that his Drill Sergeant’s man-seed wasn’t filling up his yearning hole.
“No, sir, no, please, I want your man-jizz deep inside me, breeding my ass, sir!” Kick cried, heart-broken at his loss.
Watching the sexy grunt writhe in agony below him, Ram had regained dominance over the young recruit. “Just shut the fuck up, soldier. I’ll give you my cum when I say, not you.” Restored to power and firmly in control of this sex skirmish, Ram dipped his cock into the reservoir of steaming cum and smear the warm, ripe fuck-juice over the head of his still-turgid weapon. With devilish joy, Ram placed his cum-lubed cock back at the entrance to Kick’s hole and re-entered the boy for a second, slower, more controlled fuck, his first jizz-load lubricating his fuck-piston as he remounted the dazed young Marine. “Don’t you worry, boy, your man’s still gonna give you the reward of that first fuck. In fact, he’s gonna shove every ounce of his Drill Sergeant cum back into you, drop by drop.”
Ram began his second, full-out, hour-long, marathon-fuck of the hot Marine.
Hours later, after three marathon fuck-sessions, Ram collapsed in a heaving pile on top of the insatiable recruit. Ram had blown three loads up Kick’s ass; Kick had soaked the bedcover with five cum-shots of his own. The spent Drill Sergeant yielded to exhaustion , his depleted balls and dick demanding rest. Ram crawled onto the bed and pulled Kick tight against him. Drifting off into sex-filled dreams, Ram pulled Kick tight up against him, his bristly chest-hairs grinding into Kick’s smooth back. As the boy also slept, he absently humped his ass back into Ram’s groin, trying to coax another round of Marine fucking from his DI‘s dick. He dreamed of the powerful man that had just bred him wicked hard, and also of a faceless, formless man that was soon to come for him. The uncertainty of the unknown man both excited and frightened him, and Kick snuggled deep into the muscled folds of the hulking older Marine, trying to hide from this dream. As Ram surrendered to his unconscious dreams, he slowly stroked the soft velvet hairs on Kick’s head, petting the submissive, whimpering boy. He dreamed about the many boys he had turned into soldiers, and the soldiers he had turned back into boys. But his mind kept returning to this young soldier. Kick, Ram thought, was perfect dichotomy: strong yet passive, ruggedly handsome yet sensually beautiful, wild yet captive.
Waking alone in bed to the smell of coffee and bacon, Ram slowly woke to the bright day. His usual morning wood was painful today, a brutal reminder of the marathon sex from the previous night. Pulling on a pair of worn boxers, Ram headed for the kitchen and found Kick at the stove preparing breakfast Kick was wearing only Ram’s USMC tank top. The tattered hem of the tank top draped rakishly across the two fleshy mounds of his ass. The teasing sight of the boy’s butt and tight body hidden only in his DI’s tank drove any lingering pain straight out of Ram’s dick. Aroused, Ram snorted, and the young Marine srartled, suddenly aware of the older man’s predatory eyes on him. Regaining composure, Kick turned and greeted his gruff, sleepy Drill Sergeant with a broad, boyish smile and a humble hand gesture for Ram to sit at the table he had prepared for breakfast.
Kick was no gourmet cook, but every Marine can grub-up a descent breakfast. Ram drank the hot coffee and fresh grapefruit juice, and ate the bacon and eggs in approving manly silence as the eager soldier obediently served him. Ram, gut filled and hunger sated, pushed back from the table, a quick grunt of approval communicating his pleasure with the feed. As Kick began to wash up, Ram broke the morning’s silence. The image of Kick’s hunky little ass poking out from beneath his tank top lodged in his mind, his dick reflexively responding, Ram ordered the boy to bring him the pan that held the cooling bacon grease. Dipping two thick fingers into the satiny grease, he lifted them up towrad Kick. “So,” he began, moving his eyes from his greasy hand to Kick’s face, “You exposed yourself as a complete sex-pig last night, grunt. Quite a horny little fuck-pig . Oink, oink, grunt. Let’s try to reunite you with your kin here, shall we?” Using his clean hand, Ram pulled the boy toward him and separated the two muscled mounds of Kick’s ass. Ram took his lube-covered hand and slowly, gently greased up the young grunt’s hole for the first fuck of the day. Seated in the kitchen chair, Ram pulled the boy onto his lap, the boy’s fresh-lubed hole coming to rest on top of his waking cock. ‘This fuck,’ Ram decided, ‘was not going to be like last nights.’ This fuck was going to be deliciously controlled and satin smooth. Holding the boy tight and firm, the only movement between the two Marines was Ram’s swelling cock. And as it grew, it slowly burrowed itself up into the motionless boy’s captive ass, the bacon grease permitting a steady, smooth penetration. As the Drill Sergeant and his faithful charge sat perfectly still, Ram’s big cock willfully worked itself into Kick’s fuck-chute. The entwined Marines, one dominant, one submissive, stared into each other’s eyes, their breaths synchronizing, their heartbeats matching. The rhythmic pulsing of Ram’s cock and the squeezing of Kick’s ass worked together toward a new, powerful type of orgasm.
Imperceptibly, so as not to break the moment’s intensity, Ram leaned forward and affectionately placed his lips on the boy’s muscled pectoral, capturing Kick’s right nipple with his mouth. Using his most tender motion, he tickled the tit with his tongue and blew moist breath onto the boy’s chest.
Ram’s simple action was enough to push Kick past pleasure and into ecstasy With short, panting breath, Kick made a barely audible whimper of submission and came. But his orgasm was not violent. Powerful, yes. Earth-shattering, yes. But yet utterly passive, a surrendered orgasm. Kick’s thick, creamy cum flowed from his aroused, swollen cock in warm pulsing waves, gushing out onto Ram’s hairy chest. As the cum flowed, his ass muscles squeezed strong against Ram’s firm member, his ass-walls milking the length of the man-meat buried deep inside him. The satin-smooth walls of Kick’s ass rhythmically worked Ram’s tool, coaxing it toward eruption. Smelling Kick’s boy-spunk, feeling the warm grunt-jizz oozing onto his chest, and thinking about his big cock embedded up inside this sexy soldier, Ram yielded to ecstasy. His eyes widened, he made a small, sharp gasp as he released Kick’s tit, then he came, carried on a wave of passion, pouring his manly load into Kick’s glorious ass.
After a swim in the pool and a shower, Ram and Kick drove back to Twentynine Palms to pack up Kick’s apartment. Most of the contents were basic and utilitarian, left for Goodwill. Kick would neither need nor miss them in his new life as obedient fuck-boy to a wealthy new Master. They placed Kick’s personal effects - his wallet, his medals, a set of dress blues, and a framed photo of his mother - into Kick’s footlocker. Ram put the key to the footlocker on a silver chain. They loaded the gear into the truck. The footlocker, chain and key would be sent to Kick’s new Master, a permanent gesture that Kick’s personal effects, in essence, Kick’s former life, would be at the disposal of the new Master, to control and/or delete as he pleased. Kick, after all, was simply property. His new Master was entitled to use him at his own discretion. And knowing that the boy’s new Master was into S&M bondage, Ram knew that “control“ “used” were going to be the operative terms.
Kick now counted the jeans on his ass, the boots on his feet, and the gray tee-shirt on his back as his only possessions. His dog tags were the only proof of his identity
Returning to his Palm Springs home, Ram began Kick’s transference training in earnest. Inducing the submissive trance using Kick’s trigger phrase, Ram had Kick kneel between his legs, passively nursing on his flaccid cock. Eyes focused only on his Drill Instructor’s, Kick was powerless to resist the new programming. Once entranced and mind-fucked, Ram began the imprinting that would bond the grunt-fuck Marine to his new Master. He would worship and obey his new Master with absolute resolve. His new Master could and would own him, body and soul. His new Master would stimulate Kick’s sexual desire by his simple presence, and Kick would not crave sex with anyone else unless told to do so by his new Master.
Slowly, despite his own will, Kick accepted this new reality. Ram was not his perfect Master. A new Master would come for him soon, and Kick would eagerly, and without error, serve this new Master, utilizing the seductive skills he had learned during this brief training with his former Drill Instructor. This was his new life. And this Marine would dutifully follow these new orders.
As a final step to induction, Ram took Kick to a local tattoo parlor. Ram always used a particular tattoo artist. Ram delivered every “trained” Marine fuck-boy to a client with his personal “Seal of Approval,” the grunt’s nickname beneath the Marine Insignia, tattooed on the right (submissive) butt-cheek. Ram considered the tattoo a right of passage, a sign of completion. He delivered the highest quality product, and he wanted each client to see and cherish his hallmark of grunt-purity.
But as he stood guard over the tattoo artist scribing the USMC Globe-n-Anchor onto Kick’s ass, Ram was agitated. Watching the artist manipulate and massage Kick’s pure, up-turned ass as he laid ink, Ram could feel protective jealousy rising in his gut. It seemed that the tattoo artist was always a bit too intimate with the recruits, but Ram was never bothered before. This time seeing the tattoo artist plying his trade, grabbing and groping Kick’s perfect ass, the new recruit whimpering face-down into the bench as he was permanently marked as a slave, Ram kept feeling anger as the man seemed to be sniffing and routing about too closely at Kick’s sweet ass and boy-hole. Ram had to remind himself that this hunk of Marine was bought and paid property, and soon would be delivered to a great new world. “Only a fag would get sentimental about this shit,” Ram accidentally spoke, startling both the tattoo artist and the prone boy.
By the following Saturday, when the new tattoo had fully healed, Ram was ready to deliver the perfect Marine fuck-boy to his new Master. Ram had deprived the boy of sex for a few days to heighten the sexual tension. He wanted Kick to be rough and ready when he met his Master. Scrubbed down and polished up, Kick was the definition of a clean-cut, sexy soldier. His training had removed the overly emotional quality from his personality. Kick was outwardly strong and confident, seductive and sexually-charged. Inside, Kick was a fully obedient slave, eager only to use his body in servitude of a real man. He lived only to suck cock and get fucked, all for one perfect Master.
That night, Ram drove Kick into L.A. He told Kick that his new Master would pick him up at a rough leather bar. “How will I recognize my new Master, sir?” Kick asked.
“He will know you by your nickname, boy.” Ram answered. “When you next hear your nickname spoken, it will enslave you to the speaker, your perfect Master. Understand?”
Ram ordered Kick out of the truck, and handed him twenty bucks for the cover and to buy a beer while he waited for his owner to arrive and claim him. Ram then drove off, and the young soldier turned and headed down the alley toward the entrance of the gay bar. Kick was both knock-kneed scared and impatiently horny as he entered the dark, smoky club. Kick went up to the bar and ordered a beer. Looking around, Kick was surprised to see so many real men in a gay bar. He, after all, wasn’t gay himself, really. Yet the sight of all these naturally rugged men dressed in working man’s clothes, drinking beer and buddy-ing around with each other was not what Kick had ever imagined he’d find in a fag-bar. Maybe not all gays are fags, he thought to himself.
Searching the eyes of each patron, Kick looked for any clue that might reveal his new Master to him. His questing look, handsome face and beefy young body drew the attention of most of the men in the bar, and though no one approached, Kick could feel a warm tension building as the horny men began to slowly circle the “new meat,” unspoken hunger gleaming in their eyes at the promise of a possible feeding frenzy.
The once-friendly crowd shifted, and began to feel more sexual, dangerous, and all eyes began to focus on Kick. Then, from deep in the crowd, a powerfully muscled figure emerged, parting the crowd as he moved forward. Kick’s eyes locked with the eyes of the imposing man, and the tall, muscled man firmly held Kick’s gaze as he confidently began his approach, direct and purposeful. Kick was impressed with the ruggedly handsome man, whose strong muscles were encased in full black biker leathers. The man had an ominous and virile air around him, his bald head and gray goatee made him seem dangerous and menacing. An obvious sexual tension was building between these two men and Kick was sure this must be his new Master. The crowd began to anticipate the taste of blood from the imminent kill.
But just as the man reached him, and the stranger opened his mouth to speak , he suddenly retreated, turning and bolting away, like a hyena retreating from a carcass when the lion returns to feed. Then, Kick sensed another man. A man so intimidating that he had driven the other man away. He detected the presence his new Master directly behind him. Closing his eyes, Kick could feel him. He could feel his body heat. He could smell his virile man-scent. He could hear his aroused breathing. All of Kick’s senses were on full alert. Kick prepared himself for the next moment, steeling himself to turn and meet his new Master. The bar had fallen silent, preparing to observe this new, unknown spectacle.
“Kick, your Master has come for you.”
Kick’s eyes sprang open as the trigger word animated all of his deep programming. He turned quickly and his eyes locked with … Ram’s eyes, of course. Somehow, Kick had always known this would be. Perhaps because he had so singularly wanted this to be.
Kick threw his arms around his Master’s huge frame and kissed the powerful Marine Drill Instructor full on the mouth, his first man-kiss. Tears began to fill his eyes. Kick wanted to say so much, but he knew this was not the time. He just wanted to feel this moment fully.
“Listen, boy,” Ram began, “I don’t know what it is about you, but I just couldn’t get you out of my mind and I couldn’t share you with another man. Now I don’t know if this makes me queer or not, but I know that I won’t be satisfied without your tight ass wrapped around my dick and I won’t be happy without my arms wrapped around you each night.”
Ram then grabbed the boy tight and kissed him back, surprising both of them and also the watching crowd.
“Look at this.” Ram said, breaking their hug. Ram lowered his fatigues, exposing his big, muscular left (dominant) ass cheek to Kick and the interested crowd. There, on the beefy mound of ass, was a USMC Globe-n- Anchor tattoo, freshly inked.
“That’s wicked sexy, sir,” Kick responded, “But why didn’t you have him put your nickname underneath, sir?”
A big smile spread across Ram’s face, and he tenderly replied, “Boy, I’m giving up my old nickname, just like I’m giving up my current job. Yes, sir, boy, I’m retired from the retired from the procurement business.”
“But,” the burly Drill Sergeant continued, with an almost sheepish tone, “If you’ll permit me to, I do think I’ll add a new nickname under this tattoo. How do you feel about ‘Daddy’?”
The two Marines left the bar and went home. They spent that night like they would spend the rest of their lives, tight in each other’s arms, Daddy dick embedded in boy ass.
Kick received the key that would open his foot locker, which the older man had never sent off to the original buyer. He was honored with the gift, an open offer of his independence, but Kick decided he never needed to open the box that contained relics of his old life. Kick had a new identity. He was the devoted, loving son of the world’s sexiest, loving Daddy.
Over time, and with some practice, Ram learned to suck his boy’s cock (occasionally) and even to enjoy the taste of hot boy-cum. And they both learned the pleasure of manly kissing. The two Marines started going out to the local gay bar (occasionally), and Ram decided that being if he had to chose between being a ‘fag’ or being alone, well damn it, ‘fag’ was a hell of a lot more fun. Kick kept his Daddy happy but loved teasing him when they were out in public, pinching his ass or grabbing his dick, making the tough old Marine blush. But seeing the look of envy on the faces of jealous strangers at the site of a hot young muscle stud obviously so in love with this rugged older man was well-worth any small embarrassment.
Ram never did train any of the remaining soldiers from his stable. Mostly, he felt sorry for the young hunky soldiers that would probably never be inducted into rough-and-rowdy, man-on-man sex. But Ram also wondered if, by accident, any one of the still-programmed boys ever heard the embedded trigger phrase, what the hell would happen. But, he decided, the world could always use another eager, sexy, red-blooded, Marine cocksucker.
He only needed the one.