I go to a well-funded private school and we still have quite a few computers that wouldn't meet the requirements for Mechwarrior IV. School computers aren't for playing fucking games, they're for people who need to get work done and do something meaningful with their lives when they aren't working. Not even Office XP is particularly taxing on our machines, and CodeWarrior certainly isn't.
I can still clearly remember the day I was captured, even though it is now more than fifty years ago. I was just 18.
The summer rain had been pouring down heavily all morning and the ground had been transformed into a vast treacherous bog for miles around. By mid-afternoon our battalion's tactical retreat, which had started the day before with such promise, had been halted as trucks, armour and horses had all been sucked into a hopeless struggle against the very earth itself. Neither I nor my comrades were in any position to help as we found that just the effort of walking exhausted us, the deep muddy earth clinging to our legs like the stinking arms of the dead pulling us down into hell.
What had started as a tactical manoeuvre had been transformed by the forces of nature into a dangerous trap. We were easy quarry for the Communists' air power, and I prayed to heaven that the aircraft of the so-called People's Liberation Army were out of range, or that they were unaware of our desperate situation. But heaven was either not listening that day, or it was too busy to bother with us.
I was vainly trying to pull my left leg from a knee-high muddy grip when I heard the engines. A faint distant drone at first, but my heart was already filling with a mortal dread. Then I saw them. There were six evil metal-clad vultures heading straight for us. Within seconds, I knew, their high-calibre machine guns would start spewing white hot death down upon my comrades and me. Within a minute or two I would be in the middle of a vast filthy abattoir, the brown mud united with the blood of men and horses - but would I be alive to see its horror?
I was sure my life would end on that turbid field in Hubei province. I threw myself face down onto the rancid ground and waited. The next minute seemed to last an hour and a million thoughts ran through my mind - I guess my life was flashing before me.
I recalled my infancy and childhood in Hong Kong, and my parents' struggle to send their only son to a British-run school on my father's modest salary as a clerk with a small American trading firm. I learned excellent English and did very well at school, winning the prize for the school's best student. The Westerners, the 'gwei-lo', had given my family some modest degree of security in a China which had been in nightmarish turmoil from the day I was born. First the warlords, then the Japanese invasion, and now the struggle to keep the motherland free from the vast prison camp into which the Communists wanted to consign the whole Chinese people.
I talked about joining General Chiang Kai-Shek's army the day after I completed my schooling. My mother begged me not to join the army. My father was trying to organise a scholarship for me to attend university in England - he wanted me to study engineering - and he told me that he did not want his only son killed in the endless Chinese wars.
But I was idealistic and full of patriotism, and I wanted to see China free, strong and independent. That was two years earlier and I had been 16 and I was immortal. I ran away to Shenzhen and joined General Chiang.
I was much better educated than the vast majority of General Chiang's recruits and, notwithstanding my youth, I was made a lieutenant after a mere two week crash course at the officer training school. I was so proud. I remembered sending a photo to my parents of their 16 year old son in an officer's uniform, hoping that I could bring a little happiness to them. I have that photograph still, which I recovered from my father's estate. In a youthful hand I had written 'Lieutenant Tam Hong-Sha, your loving son'. I knew that my parents would be angry, disappointed and, above all, fearful that I had run off to the army.
I grew up very fast. In the two years since joining the army I had seen things that a kid should never witness. Even now, I cannot bear to think or talk about them. Sometimes, though, I still dream. They are dreams which always cause me to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and crying. On that day in 1948 in Hubei province, I was determined that I would either escape or die - I would not allow myself to be taken prisoner by the enemy.
I heard the terrifying roar of the aircraft engines bearing down on us and then the sound of their machine guns opening up. I pushed my face into the mud and covered my head and ears with my arms. There were scores of horrible human shrieks and the sound of hundreds or thousands of bullets tearing into the mud with an eerie oozing sound, followed by a satanic hissing as the mud boiled. I begged the gods to spare me. After that I remember that I lost control of my bladder and bowels. With hindsight's benefit this was neither surprising nor a sign of cowardice. But I remember feeling deeply ashamed of myself at that moment - and then I passed out.
II.
I was awakened by a sharp pain in my ribs. I raised my head from the mud wiped the filth from my eyes, and saw the fuzzy image of a soldier standing over me. He was pointing his rifle at me and screaming something over and over. After a moment I heard what he was saying - 'Stand up now and put your hands over your head!'.
I tried to raise myself up, but I was now stuck so fast in the mud that I couldn't even lift my torso. The soldier's screaming then became hysterical and he aimed the rifle straight at my head. I tried to explain my predicament, but my mouth was full of mud, and I could only sputter and cough. At that moment, another voice with a strange accent, called out in Chinese 'Don't shoot him, I want him alive'. I swivelled my head to get a glimpse of my saviour. He was a gwei-lo, but wearing a military uniform. I realised then, with sudden alarm, that the uniform belonged to the PLA.
He strode over to me, and ordered the Chinese soldier to help him lift me up. They each grabbed one of my shoulders, and with a loud squelching sound, I was ripped from the mud. I felt that I had been lifted from my grave.
I noticed that it was just getting dark, so I must have been lying there for about three hours.
The Chinese soldier frisked me for hidden weapons, and then the two of them half-dragged and half-carried me to a nearby vehicle which appeared to be a covered truck with tracks for handling the mud. They heaved me into the back of the truck where I fell with a painful thud. I struggled to my knees and looked around.
I was not alone. There were about twelve other survivors of the attack, some of whom I recognised. None of my friends were among them. They, too, were all covered in mud and most of them were wounded, some of them badly. There were also two vicious looking PLA guards armed with machine guns. One I guessed was about 25, short and muscular while the other was quite tall for a Chinese and about 30 years old and thin. By this time it was almost dark, and the truck roared to life and lurched forward causing me to topple over onto my back. One of the guards gestured me to seat myself on a long board on which the other uninjured prisoners were perched.
The guards told us there would be no talking, and the journey proceeded in silence for about three hours. On the way one of the wounded prisoners died, but the rest of us were forbidden from offering him any comfort.
When the truck finally stopped, it was very dark. Those of us who were able to walk climbed out the back and I could see a long wooden hut with a light peeping through a window shutter. I was oddly reminded of a lighthouse.
There were four of us who could walk unassisted. All of us were very young, about 18 to 22. We were very frightened, though determined not to show it to each other or to our two guards. The guards ordered us into the hut.
We all walked over to the hut and through its open front door, the guards behind us pointing their guns at us. Inside was a large bare room lit by gas lamps. At the far end of the room was a plain table behind which was seated the same gwei-lo who had saved my life on the battlefield. He was still dressed in his PLA uniform, but I could now see that he was about 35 years old, very fair skinned with green eyes, high cheekbones and fair hair. I guessed he was a Russian, or perhaps from some other East European country.
He looked at the four of us who were made to line up in front of him. We were a pretty dismal sight. Four frightened young men, cold, hungry, thirsty and filthy. But we were the lucky ones. I also smelled like a sewer, and I found it difficult to walk or stand with any degree of dignity in my soiled trousers. I was grateful that the other three prisoners affected not to notice my condition; their pretence enabled me to salvage a little face. They were still my comrades after all.
The gwei-lo surveyed us. He addressed us softly in perfect, but strangely-accented, Chinese: "Remove your clothing". We hesitated. He simply repeated the order, just as softly but this time with an element of quiet menace in his voice. We all began to take off our mud-caked uniforms. The gwei-lo looked at us intently and with an odd expression on his face - what seemed like a mixture of scientific detachment and enjoyment.
My three comrades stripped down to their underwear. I removed also my underpants (they had become unbearable) but left my undershirt on. I covered my sex organs with my hands. We were still filthy, the mud having seeped through to the skin.
The gwei-lo glared at us: "I meant ALL you clothing", he hissed. We all hesitated again, just for a couple of seconds. But that was more than enough. One of the guards stepped forward, and with the butt of his rifle hit the lad next to me in the small of his back. He crumpled to the ground crying out in pain. The other guard ripped the boy's underclothes off him, leaving him naked and writhing on the floor. The rest of us immediately removed our underwear, all covering our boyhood with our hands.
"That's better", said the gwei-lo. The guards lifted up the lad from the floor and made him stand upright back in line. "You will do exactly as I say without hesitation. Remember that your lives are completely in my hands".
"Now, you are all to be cleaned up. After that you will learn what is to happen to you".
III.
The guards led us into an adjoining room. There was located a makeshift shower consisting of a single canvas bag with a shower nozzle suspended from a hook on the ceiling. We were to take turns under this shower. When the water ran out one of the lads refilled it from a bucket. The two guards watched us closely. The first lad under the shower looked about 21. He was given a bar of soap by the taller of the two guards. The guard watched as the boy lathered himself.
"What's your name?" demanded the taller guard. "Private Wei Mun-Sim" answered the boy sheepishly. The guard said harshly, "wash behind your foreskin so that I can see you do it properly". Sim blushed, but did as he was told. "That goes for all of you" barked the guard. I wondered why the guard had issued such a strange order, but I had no idea what lay in store for us.
I couldn't help staring at Sim. I found myself thinking that there was a beauty in him. I had caught myself with such thoughts about other men from time to time in the Army, but had always brushed them aside. But there was something really beautiful about Sim. He was about 5'7" tall, possessing a wiry frame and a smooth hairless body except for a small wispy pubic patch and traces of black hair on the lower legs. His eyes were especially beautiful - almond shaped. I remember staring at his flaccid cock as he cleaned it and noticed his small perfectly smooth balls. Just at that moment I started to have a powerful erection, and I quickly tried to cover myself with my hands.
The taller guard, however, noticed me. He walked over to me and knocked my hands away; I let them drop to my sides. He laughed loudly and shouted to his friend to look. They both looked at my naked groin with its rampant hard-on. The attention I was now receiving from everyone in the shower room didn't cause my cock to go soft. On the contrary it got harder and jutted out engorged at a sharp angle almost parallel to my torso, my cockhead fully released from its foreskin. I had never felt so embarrassed and confused. The taller guard took hold of my cockhead with his thumb and forefinger, pulled it down so that it pointed at the floor, and then let go. My cock jumped back up so that it hit my abdomen with a loud smack, wobbled a couple of times and then resumed its earlier posture. Both the guards roared with laughter.
The shorter guard then came over with a huge smirk on his face, told me to spread my feet apart, bend over and grab my ankles. I obeyed instantly, trembling. He walked around behind me and I felt him fondle my cock and balls for a second or two before placing something small in my arse. The two guards roared again. Looking up from between my ankles I could see that he had stuck the long stem of a yellow flower into my arsehole, so that it protruded about six inches from me.
"Stand up" the shorter guard snapped. I did so, bringing my feet together at the same time. The taller guard hurried out of the shower room while everyone else stared at me. My erection wouldn't go away and, to make matters worse, I felt myself blushing all over. "He looks like a flower pot, all red and yellow!" guffawed the guard. The other naked boys didn't laugh, they just stared slack-jawed.
The taller guard then came back in with a camera, and ordered me to stand sideways to him. He then took about six or eight photos of me with my erect cock sticking out in one direction and the flower sticking out the other way. At one point my cock began to droop, but the younger guard grabbed my boyhood and, with a half dozen stokes, pumped it back up to full strength.
The taller guard ordered the other three naked lads to continue showering and to do a good job. While they obeyed the shorter guard grabbed Sim, soaking wet and shivering, by the elbow and dragged him over to me. "You like this one, huh?" he demanded.
I didn't answer, but just stared at the floor for a couple of seconds. Just then, he struck me a powerful blow across the face with the back of his hand and I spun around falling onto the floor on my back. "Get up!", he screamed furiously. I struggled to my feet. "Answer all my questions when I ask them, or next time it'll be a bayonet!" he yelled. "You like this boy?" - it was a demand, not a question.
"Yes", I answered - I could taste blood inside my mouth and the flower had fallen out of my arse, but my cock was still hard.
This time, he grabbed my balls and twisted them violently, until I yelled in pain. "Yes, SIR" he yelled. "Yes, SIR" I replied.
He seized Sim by the hair and forced him onto his knees in front of me. "Suck his cock" he ordered. Sim didn't hesitate; he was as frightened as I was. He swallowed my cock and began quickly sucking, while the taller guard resumed taking photos from many different angles. Sim's face was twisted into a grimace, but at first I wasn't sure if it was because he was disgusted by his task, or because I had not yet showered and my cock was still covered in mud and dried piss. Then I noticed that his cock, too, was getting hard.
"Don't cum in his mouth - pull out and cum onto his face" the taller guard ordered. "Yes, sir" I gasped. After few moments the younger guard inserted two of his fingers roughly into my arse, and I could feel myself coming quickly to climax, so I pushed Sim's head away from my cock and instantly shot a load of cum onto his face, much of it landing in his wet hair. The older guard took a lot more pictures of us while my cock slowly went soft and my cum slid down Sim's face. He then ordered both of us to shower.
After we had all showered the two guards ordered the four us to line up and march back into the office where we had earlier been ordered to strip. Being marched around together naked like that made me feel even more humiliated.
The gwei-lo was still there, still seated behind his desk. We all lined up about six feet in front of him. The taller guard ordered, "Put your hands behind your heads and place your feet wide apart". We obeyed, and the gwei-lo gave us all a good long look, taking particular notice of our naked crotches. Sim, who had not cum inside the shower room, still had a partial erection which caused the gwei-lo to chuckle.
"Are they properly cleaned?" the gwei-lo asked the guards. The shorter guard nodded, pointed to me, and said "this one likes having his cock sucked - the boy with the hard-on did him in the shower room".
The gwei-lo nodded and smiled. "It seems we may have at least one, then".
"Well, now" said the gwei-lo in his strangely accented Chinese, "the time has come for you boys to learn something about why you are here, and what will be expected of you".
IV.
"You are lucky", the gwei-lo said. "You have been taken prisoner, but you are to have a choice about your fate".
"You have been brought to the PLA's Special Recreation Unit. The SRU is a prison unit, but a prison unit of an unusual kind. The purpose of this unit is to provide rest and pleasure to officers of the PLA, foreign advisers to the PLA and to selected enlisted personnel as a reward for outstanding service. We provide comfort girls and comfort boys to our patrons, depending on their taste. Should you remain attached to the SRU, you will perform the role of comfort boys. A comfort boy's task is to serve the SRU's patrons in whatever way the patrons wish. Sometimes this will involve giving massages, washing clothes, making tea or light meals, singing, reading or dancing for the patrons. Almost all of the patrons, however, will want you for sex. Sometimes the sex is gentle, and sometimes it is very rough. Whatever they want you for, and whatever they want you to do, it is a comfort boy's job to please the patron and to do whatever he wants. The patrons are almost always men. On rare!
occasions, we are used by women patrons. Specialised training is provided for the SRU's comfort boys. Some of the training is harsh, and you remain prisoners. By and large, however, the life of a comfort boy is preferable to the alternative."
The gwei-lo paused, sipped some tea from a small blue and white bowl, lit a cigarette and looked each of us in the eyes before continuing: "The alternative is transportation from here to a regular military prison camp. You have no doubt heard stories about our prison camps. Life in the camps is extremely harsh, rations are minimal, and the camps are located in the North near the border with our Russian brothers where the climate is extremely hostile. You will be expected to labour at the SRU when not on comfort duties, but camp labour at our regular military prisons is especially harsh and often dangerous, and many prisoners do not survive it. If the climate and the labour do not kill you, the guards or the dogs might do it anyway. To those guards, you will be counter-revolutionary scum and enemies of the people. To us at the SRU you will be assets contributing to our inevitable victory."
The gwei-lo leaned forward on the desk and stubbed out his cigarette. He got up from his desk and walked around behind us. The taller guard softly told us to keep our eyes facing front and not to watch the officer. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him inspecting one of the other boy's back and arse.
>From behind us he said: "Your chances of surviving the war and returning to your families after we have won will be much greater if you choose to remain with the SRU as a comfort boy. The choice is yours. But whichever option you select, this will probably be the last free choice you will make".
Then he was silent for what seemed about three minutes. I sensed him behind me. Suddenly, I felt his hand gently feeling my arse - first the left cheek, then the right. As he reached between my legs to fondle my balls my cock began to stiffen, and I heard his breath quicken slightly and a slight grunt of approval as he felt my growing erection from this unusual angle. My cock was encouraged with a few skilful downward strokes from his hand.
The gwei-lo walked slowly back to his desk and resumed his seat, leaving me standing there, hands behind my head and legs apart, with an unconcealable rampant erection. I could see without moving my neck that all the other boys also had full or partial erections, and I guessed that he had given them similar treatment.
"If you decide to stay at SRU", the gwei-lo continued, "you must learn that you have no will of your own, and that you belong to the SRU and its patrons. If you learn this, you will survive the war. If not, you will be sent to one of our regular military prisons or - depending on the nature of your offence - shot".
"It is very late now. You will make your decision by the morning and inform me at our meeting then. In the meantime, the guards will take you to your sleeping quarters for tonight. We will meet at twelve hundred hours tomorrow."
At this the gwei-lo abruptly stood up, took one last long look at us four naked and erect boys. When he looked at me I thought a slight smile came to his lips for just a moment. He asked me, "You are an officer?".
"Yes", I replied. At this, the shorter guard came around in front of me, and with his middle finger give the tip of my erect cock a savage flick. The pain was awful, and I let out a tortured howl, tears coming to my eyes. It felt like an electric shock. I never realised that such a small action could cause such incredible agony.
"Yes SIR", the guard yelled in my face. "Yes sir", I echoed.
The gwei-lo stepped in front of me and stood a mere foot away. He examined the front of my body very carefully. The guard's sudden assault on my cock had caused it to go completely limp. The foreigner gently took hold of my balls with one hand and slowly increased the pressure on them. He gazed intently at my face as the pressure slowly grew. His green eyes sparkled, and I felt powerfully attracted by his beautiful blond hair and handsome pale features. When the pressure became very painful, I began to wince.
Keeping hold of my balls, but no longer increasing the pressure, the foreigner leaned forward, and very softly whispered in my ear: "You're enjoying this, aren't you?". I paused for a brief moment, before whispering back in a quavering voice, "Yes sir".
Releasing me and turning to the older guard he crisply ordered: "Take their details and secure them!" Then, pointing to me, he said: "But bring this one to my room - I want to teach him a few tricks".
With this, the foreigner turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the door into the night.
V.
As soon as the gwei-lo officer had left the room, the taller guard sat down at the desk while the shorter one stood behind us where I couldn't see him.
"Keep your eyes front!", the shorter guard barked threateningly.
We four boys remained standing, naked, legs apart, hands behind our heads and looking straight ahead. I felt humiliated and frightened. But I also experienced an odd curiosity - a deep un-nameable desire to remain and submit to these men. Never before in my young life had I experienced such confusion.
"I'll take your names and other details", the taller guard casually said while picking up a pen. As he took our particulars I learned that Sim was a private aged 19, one year more than me though he looked a little older, from Hubei province. The other two were both corporals. Ma Teng-Cha was 23 and came from Shanghai. The last lad was Lee Guan-Ming, whose home was in Fujian province, aged 21.
"I am comrade-Sergeant Bo, and my colleague behind you is comrade-Corporal Yang", the older guard said casually. "We are not really your guards. We are more your keepers. Before joining the PLA, I kept horses on a large estate for my family's landlord. That old bastard is dead now, the PLA having given me the pleasure of killing him myself. Corporal Yang kept pigs. So we know all about looking after animals. Whether you are treated like horses or pigs will depend mostly on you. If you obey our commands completely, and speak only when spoken to, and if you show proper respect then you will be kept like a valuable breeding horse. If you do not, then you will be treated like the pigs I suspect you really are."
Out of the corners of my eyes I could see that the two older lads' erections had wilted and that their naked uncircumcised cocks now rested limply against their balls. Sim, however, maintained a raging hard-on with his foreskin completely retracted and his pinkish-yellow cockhead pointing emphatically to the ceiling. He was standing on my left, and I could sense his concentrated embarrassment.
Sergeant Bo paused for a moment while he assessed Sim's genitals. "Let's hope you can perform like that for the Captain", Sergeant Bo said at last, breaking into a crooked smile.
"You have already met the Captain", Sergeant Bo continued addressing all four of us. "He is the foreign officer. You are to call him 'master' from now on. He is in charge of all the comfort boys - the male animals - in the SRU. You will call Corporal Yang and me 'sir' at all times. In the morning, if you decide to stay in the SRU, you will be interrogated by an intelligence officer and your induction into the SRU will begin. If you decide to leave the SRU, you will be transported to a regular military prison and interrogated there".
This was my first chance to get a good look at Sergeant Bo. Even seated he was obviously tall for a Chinese, maybe about 6 feet, and of sturdy build without being stocky. He didn't have the peasant look of most soldiers, and he spoke in clear and fluent Chinese. His face was long and angular, with striking black eyebrows. His nose was like a westerner's, not at all flattened as is often the case among our people. Even his close-cropped black hair had a unique and faintly fashionable look to it, not like the product of a typical army barber. He wore silver wire-rimmed glasses when he wrote. The over all effect was of a tall, handsome Chinese man aged about 30-33. No wonder the landlord had chosen him to be the groom for the estate's precious horses.
After a pause of a few seconds, Sergeant Bo looked past us to Corporal Yang. "Have I missed anything?", Sergeant Bo enquired.
"Questions" was Corporal Yang's only reply.
"Oh yes", Sergeant Bo said absently. "Now is your chance to ask any questions. I am not obliged to answer, and remember to address me as 'sir'."
I was the youngest of the four prisoners. But as the only officer in our little group, I felt it my responsibility to speak up for the other men. "As prisoners of war, we are entitled to be treated with some respect", I blurted out. "Why are we naked - when do we get some clothes? ...... sir".
Sergeant Bo glared at me. "It is well that you called me 'sir'. But you must also learn to use a respectful tone. And you must also learn not to look directly at us when you speak but to keep your eyes on the ground." I immediately averted my gaze. "Were it not for the fact that the Captain has required your presence for his entertainment tonight, you could expect a beating."
Rising from behind the desk and coming over to stand in front of Sim, Sergeant Bo casually fondled Sim's erect cock with one hand, causing him to squirm slightly. Speaking to us all Sergeant Bo said, "My horses, and Corporal Yang's pigs, never wore anything unless we put something on them for special occasions or particular purposes - a bridle, a saddle, a collar, a bow. It will be the same with you if you stay in the SRU. Naked men are easier to control and less likely to attempt escape."
Moving his hand to gently cup and weigh Sim's smooth balls, Sergeant Bo continued: "Your nudity will also remind you of your inferior status and your special function here. Horses and pigs have no privacy. Everyone can see the whole animal. The keepers and the other livestock can see when an animal relieves itself, when it eats and sleeps, and when it has an erection. So will it be with you. Sometimes, like the farm animals, the keepers and the other livestock will see you get fucked. Just accept it. Some patrons like to meet a comfort boy who is properly and modestly dressed, before perhaps slowly unwrapping their little parcel. Others prefer to have the boy completely naked from the first, or 'dressed' in a special and exciting way. We are well aware of the preferences of our regular patrons. You may be permitted to wear something above the waist in cold weather if you are well behaved, but you will normally be kept naked unless one of your keepers specifically directs other! wise."
Sergeant Bo paused and turned his attention to Sim's tits, drawing little circles around them with his thumb: "The SRU is not for your benefit. It is for the pleasure of the patrons. Even so, your nakedness will better allow your master and keepers to ensure that you remain fit and healthy, for the patrons' benefit. You will be unable to hide anything here. But you will receive lots of healthy food and plenty of good exercise."
"Sir", I said looking at the ground, "respectfully, this is not the Chinese way. Our people are extremely modest and nakedness is shameful. Please to reconsider."
"You are seriously trying my patience", Sergeant Bo intoned as he relinquished a playful probing of Sim's navel, and came over to me. He grabbed my left tit and gave it a savage and very painful twist, causing me to yelp. "You think I do not know Chinese ways? Most of those old ways are to be swept aside with our victory. The ways of the SRU are clear. We have many comfort boys already and this is our procedure. In this unit, you will be our property with no more rights than farm livestock. Your kind have treated the People like cattle for centuries, now it is your turn. If your nakedness contributes in some small way to our victory, then it is not shameful but glorious."
"May I speak?" said Corporal Yang from behind us.
After a nod from Sergeant Bo, Corporal Yang proceeded, "None of you has a rank any more. I put a flower up your arse officer-boy and had your pretty little whore friend with the hard-on suck you off for the benefit of our camera. Judging by the amount of spunk you blew all over him, you were having a good time. Do you think you have any weight to throw around here? And another thing; Sergeant Bo and I get horny from time to time. The Captain - your master - lets us use the comfort boys for our pleasure provided we don't permanently mark them. It's one of our perks. We are also responsible for supervising your training in the art of pleasing the patrons. I'm really looking forward to a session with you, officer-boy. You've got a really cute butt, like two small ripe melons - one of the nicest I've seen. And I've seen dozens of bare butts on our comfort boys from all possible angles. I'll bet I can get you to squeal like a Hubei pig with my cock rammed right up your tight little!
virgin arse - though you might not be a virgin by morning if the Captain needs a fuck tonight".
I was stunned into silence, but felt a strange mix of humiliation and excitement at what the 'keepers' had said. Mercifully, though, I did not get an erection.
"Anything else?", asked Sergeant Bo after a short pause.
At this point I heard Cha, the oldest lad, speak for the first time, with a distinctive Shanghai accent but in a nervous pleading tone: "Sir, I want to see my family again. But I don't want to catch the sex diseases. I could not return to my parents if I had those things. I'd rather go to the regular prison".
Sergeant Bo looked at him and said clearly and deliberately enough for us all to hear: "No need to worry about that. You will be serving people very important to us, and the SRU guarantees them that its comfort boys are clean and healthy. The same doctors who look after our top commanders will give you a thorough weekly examination. They will make sure that you are kept in good condition for our clients' safety and pleasure. The sick are removed from pleasure duties until they are fully rehabilitated. We find, however, that it is very rare for our livestock to catch anything from the sorts of people who are usually the SRU's patrons. Furthermore, the existence of the SRU makes it unnecessary for our leaders to seek risky entertainments elsewhere. If you are used sexually by a non-regular patron you'll normally be examined three days later, and you won't be available for pleasure duties with another patron until that has happened. If you stay with the SRU, and if you perform yo! ur duties with subservience and diligence, your chances of eventually returning home alive and in excellent health are very high."
Sergeant Bo returned to the desk and sat down. Lighting a cigarette and stretching his legs he said: "There is also the chance that one of our patrons might take an interest in you. It happens occasionally. These are often powerful or influential people, and scum like you who have fought us may need protectors after our inevitable victory. Certainly, you should do nothing to displease a patron. You may even grow to enjoy aspects of your life here. Most of the comfort boys quickly learn to enjoy the sex, or at least to approach their task professionally. This is more likely when prisoners are given an initial choice to remain with the SRU. Prisoners who are completely repelled by the idea of a comfort boy's role will usually choose a regular prison.
Sergeant Bo blew an expertly formed smoke ring while casually crossing his legs: "My strong advice to you is to accept your chance to stay with the SRU, unless you are actually made sick by the idea of having sex with a man. Some of our patrons strongly prefer boys who are 'real men', as they are sometimes called - though most prefer a masculine boy who can show some pleasure in his duties. There are worse ways to survive a war, and much worse ways not to survive."
Then there was silence for about half a minute. Sergeant Bo stubbed out his cigarette, looked past us to Corporal Yang and said: "I think that's it. Take these three [pointing to Sim, Cha and Ming] to the cell but leave our pretty little officer-boy with me. I'll prepare him for the Captain's quarters".
With that, Corporal Yang marched the other three prisoners naked out the same door by which the Captain had earlier gone, and I was left alone with Sergeant Bo.
VI.
Sergeant Bo remained sitting behind the Captain's desk as he lit another cigarette. While he took his first few puffs, he considered me intently. "You look younger than eighteen", he said at last.
"I am eighteen.... sir", I replied trying hard not to look directly at him and to sound respectful.
"Well you are - or were - an officer. I suppose you really couldn't be any younger than you claim. You do look young, though. I'd guess your age at sixteen. In any event, you'll certainly be popular with several of our regular patrons who prefer their boys to be young and pretty". Sergeant Bo continued scrutinising me pensively, but remained silent for another minute or so. Then, suddenly, reaching under the desk, he produced a camera, pointed it at me, and took my picture. The flash blinded me for a moment, and I was left blinking and dazed until my sight returned.
"You may stand easy for now", he said he made a sweeping gesture in my direction with his hand.
I felt relieved to be able to lower my arms and stand a bit more naturally - though being completely naked in front of this menacing stranger seemed far from natural. So, I covered my genitals with my hands.
Finally rising to his feet, he rubbed his chin as though considering a riddle and looked at the wall. Speaking aloud, but as though to himself, he said "Captain Bartek requires your presence tonight. That probably means he wants to fuck you." At this, I felt as though I'd been slapped on the face, and I must have blushed a deep red. I also felt my rectum involuntarily tighten.
Turning to me he continued, "But the difficulty is you are not yet actually part of the SRU. So the question is, do I take you to him as if you were a comfort boy or do you get some clothes? The Captain is fastidious about these things, but I'm not sure about this situation. I think the right thing is to dress you. That way Captain Bartek can decide once I hand you over".
Sergeant Bo walked over to a large cupboard next to the door leading to the shower room. He removed a package and tossed it at me. Reflexively I caught it. "Put these on", he ordered. "This will be your uniform when, occasionally, you are allowed to wear something".
Wrapped in brown string was a bundle of black cotton. After untying the string I saw what looked like a pair of black pyjamas. The short-sleeved shirt had no buttons, and I quickly pulled it over my head. Once I had pulled on the short pants I needed to tie them with a white cotton cord threaded through the waist. The pants had a slit in the front, like pyjamas, which I adjusted to hide my boyhood. The attire wasn't much; it was light, very baggy, and there were no underwear or shoes. But it was clean and I instantly felt much less exposed. I also felt a bit braver, and I recalled Sergeant Bo's earlier observation that naked men are easier to control and less likely to attempt escape.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder at how and why I remember such small details. This initial encounter with the SRU in that wooden hut all those years ago now seems simultaneously intensely real and vaguely dream-like. I guess I sensed that every word, every action, and every gesture was decisively shaping the rest of my life; indeed, they could determine whether I would live at all. Each small detail of those first few hours was seared into my memory, like a smoking brand into the flesh of an ox.
I had dropped the long piece of string which had tied the black uniform. Sergeant Bo ordered me to pick it up and to hand it to him. He took the string, went back to the desk, produced a pair of handcuffs from a drawer, and cuffed my hands behind my back. Then he swiftly reached into the slit of my pants, pulled it open and yanked out my cock and balls. He roughly tied one end of the string tightly around the base of my balls and took the other end in his hand. "If you drop something you will always pick it up", he said. "Do you think we are to do these things? I'll now take you to Captain Bartek's quarters. If you don't keep up, your balls will be very sore by the time we get there. And I'm pretty sure you'll need them both for the Captain tonight".
Leading me by the string leash wrapped around my balls, Sergeant Bo left the hut and stepped out into the warm night.
VII.
I struggled to keep up with him, and every few paces my balls would receive a violent and painful tug. After a couple of minutes, and in spite of my gait being impeded by an inability to swing my arms, I got the measure of Sergeant Bo's stride and was able to keep in step behind him. This greatly reduced the pain inflicted by the string noose around my balls.
We walked across what, in the dark, appeared to be a large grassy square, and then down a gravel path which hurt my feet. After we had walked for about three minutes past a line of wooden huts, Sergeant Bo stopped outside a larger one and untied my balls before shoving my cock and painful balls back into my pants and adjusting the slit to cover me up.
He knocked on the door of the hut, and a voice I recognised as the Captain's replied "Enter!"
Grabbing me by the back of the neck, Sergeant Bo steered me roughly into a brightly lit room in which the Captain was seated at a small table with two other men. They were playing cards. The smell of cigarette smoke and liquor hung rancidly over the table. Cigarette ash and an empty bottle of Russian vodka littered the floor, while the table was adorned with overflowing ashtrays and small glass tumblers.
After my eyes adjusted to the bright light I could see that the two men were, like Captain Bartek, gwei-los - white Europeans. They wore uniforms which I didn't recognise, but impressive flashes on their shoulders indicated that they were officers of some sort. One of them was about forty, balding and quite stocky. The other, clearly younger, was probably in his mid-twenties (although it's always hard to guess a gwei-lo's age). He was as tall as Captain Bartek with wavy brown hair and very fair skin.
"Ah, Comrade-Sergeant Bo....", Captain Bartek's speech was slightly slurred and his foreign accent had become much thicker. "I see you've brought the entertainment". His older companion sniggered loudly.
"Yes Comrade-Captain", replied Sergeant Bo, standing to attention. "The other prisoners are being secured by Corporal Yang". Speaking to me, Sergeant Bo yelled, "Stand to attention in front of the officers!" I snapped to attention, but felt an uncomfortable tenderness in my balls. Strangely, the pain was accompanied by a growing erection. I hoped it wouldn't be noticed through my baggy black pants.
Sergeant Bo took three large steps over to the table and handed Captain Bartek the key to my handcuffs.
"Well done, well done. You may go, Sergeant Bo".
Sergeant Bo saluted and marched crisply out of the hut, closing the door behind him.
The three seated card players assessed me through a slightly drunken haze. The older one pointed at me and said something to Captain Bartek in a language that sounded possibly Russian. The Captain replied in the same language with a mock-sly tone, and the three of them roared with laughter.
Looking at me Captain Bartek said, "My friends speak only a little Chinese. As none of us are paid anything worth gambling, I have agreed to bet you on the next hand. If I win, I get half a crate of the finest vodka. If I lose, the winner gets to do whatever he likes with you tonight. Are you worth six bottles of vodka, boy?"
"Yes.... sir..... master.....", I stammered out, looking at the floor.
"If I lose, you'd better be. I don't like to cheat on friends".
The younger gwei-lo dealt a hand, and after two or three minutes, the three of them again roared laughing. The older one and Captain Bartek pointed at the younger gwei-lo and shouted happily in their language.
"Lieutenant Solokov has won you, boy", Captain Bartek said. "You're his for tonight, or until he falls over drunk". The older gwei-lo laughed again, but Solokov who had 'won' me, seemed not to understand.
Solokov spoke to me in his language, and Captain Bartek translated, "Comrade-Lieutenant Solokov wants to know if it's true what I told him earlier - that you enjoyed our little encounter this evening at the reception hut".
"Yes master", I said softly. Solokov seemed to understand this much Chinese.
"I've also told him that you have not yet agreed to join the SRU. He wants to know if you've made up your mind".
I found myself - heard myself - saying "Yes master, I wish to be part of the SRU". In spite of the pain in my balls, or perhaps because of it, I felt my cock continue to stiffen inside my black pants. I knew I had taken a huge step, but something deep inside me felt incredibly calm and content.
"I knew it - I can spot them" said Captain Bartek triumphantly, who then appeared to translate my reply for his two companions. Solokov broke into a broad smile, revealing a set of startlingly white teeth.
"You understand what you have chosen?", Captain Bartek asked.
"Yes master", I replied in a calm level voice.
At this point my fully erect cock appeared through the slit in the front of my pants, and the older gwei-lo almost fell of his chair in uncontrolled drunken laughter. The laughter was infectious. The sudden appearance of my cock right at the moment of my consent to join the SRU, combined no doubt with the lubricant of vodka, resulted in all three once again falling about the table in gales of laughter. My hands firmly secured behind my back, I spent a few moments trying to squirm my hips so as to bring my erect cock back inside my pants - but to no avail.
As soon as the three gwei-los had managed to compose themselves, Solokov gestured for me to approach him. I walked over to stand right next to him.
"Don't look at a patron unless you are invited to!" snapped Captain Bartek. I looked away at the floor.
Solokov tugged at the knot holding up my pants, and they fell to the floor. He tapped my legs indicating that I should stand with my feet apart. I stood there naked from the waist down as my erection jutted out at a steep angle. Captain Bartek dealt another round of cards, and the three of them continued playing while Solokov fondled my cock and balls with his left hand, holding cards in his right. Occasionally, his hand would reach between my legs and probe my arse. Several times he attempted to push a finger inside my arse, but my muscles automatically tightened and denied him entry. Fortunately, Solokov did not attempt to force his finger inside me.
This went on for maybe twenty minutes as the three companions played several rounds of their game, chatting among themselves in their faintly ugly language. The smoking and drinking continued. I grew increasingly excited by Solokov's fondlings and masturbation of my cock, and eventually I could feel myself beginning to cum. As I groaned loudly, all three stopped their game to watch me as I shot three or four long streams of creamy white cum over Solokov's arm, trousers and boots, and onto the floor and card table.
Solokov let forth a long appreciative whistle and relinquished his sticky grip on my cock. The older gwei-lo emitted a contented 'mmmmmm".
With a faint smile on his face, which hinted at approval, Captain Bartek said "Clean it all up boy". I looked at him with apparent bewilderment. My hands were cuffed behind my back, and I didn't know where or how to get a rag. Sensing my confusion he said "Lick it up with your tongue, boy".
I started by licking my cum off Solokov's uniform and his hand, which he held out for me. I felt enormously embarrassed by the orgasmic display I had just given the gwei-los, and now I was being humiliated in this most bizarre way - naked below the waist, still partly erect, hands cuffed behind my back, licking up my own cum in front of three obviously amused spectators.
I had never tasted cum before, and it was strangely salty and tangy. After I'd cleaned up Solokov's hand and clothes I proceeded to his boots. I had to get on my knees for this and bend forward awkwardly. While licking my white cream off his boot in this exposed position, Solokov took has chance to shove a finger into my arse-hole, and got it half way in. Startled, and with my hands cuffed behind me, I fell forward flat onto my face with my arse sticking up in the air. This produced yet more hilarious laughter from my audience.
My face landed in the puddle of cum which had hit the floor, and as I managed to recover my kneeling position, it clung wetly to my right cheek and chin. Instantly, Solokov lifted me up by the armpits onto my feet and shoved my head at the cum which had landed on the card table. Bent over the table at the waist I licked at the three or four spots of cum which had fallen there. When I tried to stand again the older gwei-lo grabbed the back of my neck and held my head to the small table.
On the edge of my vision I saw Solokov unbuckling his belt and lowering first his khaki trousers, and then his white boxer shorts to his knees. For a brief moment I caught glimpse of a sight which caused me almost as much dismay as the realisation that I was about to be fucked for the first time in my life. Solokov's pubic hair was not black - it was a very light brown. Furthermore, his cock was considerably longer and pinker than anything I had seen on my own countrymen. Not only that, but his cock had no foreskin! For a brief moment, I even wondered whether Solokov was human at all.
This alarming thought was cut short by the feeling of Solokov's large hands gripping my naked hips and the head of his large cock pressing against my arse-hole. Solokov shoved hard, and I felt as though I would be split open, but only his cock head penetrated my gateway. I cried loudly in pain as the muscles in my rectum tightened involuntarily.
I heard Solokov speak in his language to the other two, and in a moment he withdrew his cock. Captain Bartek then applied something wet and slippery to my arse-hole with two fingers, and I glimpsed Solokov rubbing the same stuff over his cock. The older gwei-lo continued pinning my neck to the table with one hand.
Solokov then resumed his fucking position behind me, and with two hard thrusts pushed his large cock all the way into me. I screamed in pain and began to sob, but Captain Bartek shoved my discarded black pants into my mouth. Solokov began a slow fucking motion while leaning on the top of my buttocks with his hands. Captain Bartek and the older gwei-lo continued speaking to Solokov in their language, and I had the impression they were directing or advising him.
After about two or three minutes of Solokov's gentle fucking I began to feel more relaxed. Sensing this, the older gwei-lo let go of my neck and I began to enjoy the sensations in my arse. I still felt uncomfortably split by Solokov's slowly moving cock, but I also began to feel its warmth, its firmness and its width. It was an invader, but an exciting one. Then, as I grew more accustomed to it, I became aware of his balls delicately drumming against my buttocks with each gentle stoke of his cock. My own balls, which had given up their seed twice already that evening, stirred once more and I could feel my cock stiffen in its uncomfortable confinement between my belly and the table top.
At last, I surprised myself as I let out a low throaty moan of pleasure, and Captain Bartek removed the pants from my mouth. After a few more minutes, during which the older gwei-lo had opened his fly and begun masturbating himself while observing Solokov and me, Solokov's pace quickened. His thrusting became energetic, and he leaned forward, grabbing my pecs. Then he started seriously bucking inside me and he called out something loudly in his language, his two companions shouting back encouragement to him. Within moments, and for the first time in my life, I felt my arse filling (or so it seemed) with the hot cum of another man.
Then, in an instant, Solokov withdrew his cock from me and I suddenly felt much more comfortable - but also strangely empty. Captain Bartek removed my handcuffs and, placing a hand under my chest, raised me to a standing position. I could feel a small amount of Solokov's cum trickling out of my arse and down the inside of my leg, and my cock was fully erect again.
"Remove your shirt", Captain Bartek ordered. He took the shirt from me tossed it over a chair. "Now go and clean up Lieutenant Solokov".
Now I got a good look at Solokov. He was more than six feet tall and had a really handsome face with light brown eyes and a strong chin. He stood in front of me with his pants around his knees and his bizarre sexual region on display. In addition to the oddities I had previously noticed, I could now see that his balls were larger and hairier than anything I had ever seen on a Chinese. I wondered if all the gwei-los looked like that with their pants off.
I sensed what I had to do. Not having been given any cloths or towels, I knelt in front of Solokov and licked and sucked his cock, balls and pubic area until he was clean. Even limp, his cock must have been as long as most Chinese when erect. When I placed my hands on his buttocks to steady myself, I noticed also that Solokov's arse was large by Chinese standards but very firm.
Finally I ceased my licking, and Solokov raised his trousers and buckled up. He gestured for me to stand. As I rose, my knees wobbled beneath me and I suddenly felt totally exhausted and a little nauseous. It must have been about three in the morning by this time, which meant it had been about nine hours since I was 'rescued' from the battlefield, about 15 hours since I had eaten, and about 21 hours since I had slept. During that intense time I had been through some of the most terrifying, stressful and exciting experiences of my whole life. Also, to my dismay, I had discovered a central truth about myself which had previously been hidden.
All together, it was far too much for me. I fell forward towards Solokov and passed out.
Slashdot Mirror
If you're looking for a good example of public domain, you need look no further than CmdrTaco's asshole.
I go to a well-funded private school and we still have quite a few computers that wouldn't meet the requirements for Mechwarrior IV. School computers aren't for playing fucking games, they're for people who need to get work done and do something meaningful with their lives when they aren't working. Not even Office XP is particularly taxing on our machines, and CodeWarrior certainly isn't.
Hey, L0rdkariya, when will you be joining the ranks of those who put "(CLiT)" before their uid?
I can still clearly remember the day I was captured, even though it is now
.... sir", I replied trying hard not to look directly at him
....", Captain Bartek's speech was slightly
.... sir ..... master .....", I stammered out, looking at the floor.
more than fifty years ago. I was just 18.
The summer rain had been pouring down heavily all morning and the ground
had been transformed into a vast treacherous bog for miles around. By
mid-afternoon our battalion's tactical retreat, which had started the day
before with such promise, had been halted as trucks, armour and horses had
all been sucked into a hopeless struggle against the very earth
itself. Neither I nor my comrades were in any position to help as we found
that just the effort of walking exhausted us, the deep muddy earth clinging
to our legs like the stinking arms of the dead pulling us down into hell.
What had started as a tactical manoeuvre had been transformed by the forces
of nature into a dangerous trap. We were easy quarry for the Communists'
air power, and I prayed to heaven that the aircraft of the so-called
People's Liberation Army were out of range, or that they were unaware of
our desperate situation. But heaven was either not listening that day, or
it was too busy to bother with us.
I was vainly trying to pull my left leg from a knee-high muddy grip when I
heard the engines. A faint distant drone at first, but my heart was already
filling with a mortal dread. Then I saw them. There were six evil
metal-clad vultures heading straight for us. Within seconds, I knew, their
high-calibre machine guns would start spewing white hot death down upon my
comrades and me. Within a minute or two I would be in the middle of a vast
filthy abattoir, the brown mud united with the blood of men and horses -
but would I be alive to see its horror?
I was sure my life would end on that turbid field in Hubei province. I
threw myself face down onto the rancid ground and waited. The next minute
seemed to last an hour and a million thoughts ran through my mind - I guess
my life was flashing before me.
I recalled my infancy and childhood in Hong Kong, and my parents' struggle
to send their only son to a British-run school on my father's modest salary
as a clerk with a small American trading firm. I learned excellent English
and did very well at school, winning the prize for the school's best
student. The Westerners, the 'gwei-lo', had given my family some modest
degree of security in a China which had been in nightmarish turmoil from
the day I was born. First the warlords, then the Japanese invasion, and now
the struggle to keep the motherland free from the vast prison camp into
which the Communists wanted to consign the whole Chinese people.
I talked about joining General Chiang Kai-Shek's army the day after I
completed my schooling. My mother begged me not to join the army. My father
was trying to organise a scholarship for me to attend university in England
- he wanted me to study engineering - and he told me that he did not want
his only son killed in the endless Chinese wars.
But I was idealistic and full of patriotism, and I wanted to see China
free, strong and independent. That was two years earlier and I had been 16
and I was immortal. I ran away to Shenzhen and joined General Chiang.
I was much better educated than the vast majority of General Chiang's
recruits and, notwithstanding my youth, I was made a lieutenant after a
mere two week crash course at the officer training school. I was so
proud. I remembered sending a photo to my parents of their 16 year old son
in an officer's uniform, hoping that I could bring a little happiness to
them. I have that photograph still, which I recovered from my father's
estate. In a youthful hand I had written 'Lieutenant Tam Hong-Sha, your
loving son'. I knew that my parents would be angry, disappointed and, above
all, fearful that I had run off to the army.
I grew up very fast. In the two years since joining the army I had seen
things that a kid should never witness. Even now, I cannot bear to think or
talk about them. Sometimes, though, I still dream. They are dreams which
always cause me to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and
crying. On that day in 1948 in Hubei province, I was determined that I
would either escape or die - I would not allow myself to be taken prisoner
by the enemy.
I heard the terrifying roar of the aircraft engines bearing down on us and
then the sound of their machine guns opening up. I pushed my face into the
mud and covered my head and ears with my arms. There were scores of
horrible human shrieks and the sound of hundreds or thousands of bullets
tearing into the mud with an eerie oozing sound, followed by a satanic
hissing as the mud boiled. I begged the gods to spare me. After that I
remember that I lost control of my bladder and bowels. With hindsight's
benefit this was neither surprising nor a sign of cowardice. But I remember
feeling deeply ashamed of myself at that moment - and then I passed out.
II.
I was awakened by a sharp pain in my ribs. I raised my head from the mud
wiped the filth from my eyes, and saw the fuzzy image of a soldier standing
over me. He was pointing his rifle at me and screaming something over and
over. After a moment I heard what he was saying - 'Stand up now and put
your hands over your head!'.
I tried to raise myself up, but I was now stuck so fast in the mud that I
couldn't even lift my torso. The soldier's screaming then became hysterical
and he aimed the rifle straight at my head. I tried to explain my
predicament, but my mouth was full of mud, and I could only sputter and
cough. At that moment, another voice with a strange accent, called out in
Chinese 'Don't shoot him, I want him alive'. I swivelled my head to get a
glimpse of my saviour. He was a gwei-lo, but wearing a military uniform. I
realised then, with sudden alarm, that the uniform belonged to the PLA.
He strode over to me, and ordered the Chinese soldier to help him lift me
up. They each grabbed one of my shoulders, and with a loud squelching
sound, I was ripped from the mud. I felt that I had been lifted from my
grave.
I noticed that it was just getting dark, so I must have been lying there
for about three hours.
The Chinese soldier frisked me for hidden weapons, and then the two of them
half-dragged and half-carried me to a nearby vehicle which appeared to be a
covered truck with tracks for handling the mud. They heaved me into the
back of the truck where I fell with a painful thud. I struggled to my knees
and looked around.
I was not alone. There were about twelve other survivors of the attack,
some of whom I recognised. None of my friends were among them. They, too,
were all covered in mud and most of them were wounded, some of them
badly. There were also two vicious looking PLA guards armed with machine
guns. One I guessed was about 25, short and muscular while the other was
quite tall for a Chinese and about 30 years old and thin. By this time it
was almost dark, and the truck roared to life and lurched forward causing
me to topple over onto my back. One of the guards gestured me to seat
myself on a long board on which the other uninjured prisoners were perched.
The guards told us there would be no talking, and the journey proceeded in
silence for about three hours. On the way one of the wounded prisoners
died, but the rest of us were forbidden from offering him any comfort.
When the truck finally stopped, it was very dark. Those of us who were able
to walk climbed out the back and I could see a long wooden hut with a light
peeping through a window shutter. I was oddly reminded of a lighthouse.
There were four of us who could walk unassisted. All of us were very young,
about 18 to 22. We were very frightened, though determined not to show it
to each other or to our two guards. The guards ordered us into the hut.
We all walked over to the hut and through its open front door, the guards
behind us pointing their guns at us. Inside was a large bare room lit by
gas lamps. At the far end of the room was a plain table behind which was
seated the same gwei-lo who had saved my life on the battlefield. He was
still dressed in his PLA uniform, but I could now see that he was about 35
years old, very fair skinned with green eyes, high cheekbones and fair
hair. I guessed he was a Russian, or perhaps from some other East European
country.
He looked at the four of us who were made to line up in front of him. We
were a pretty dismal sight. Four frightened young men, cold, hungry,
thirsty and filthy. But we were the lucky ones. I also smelled like a
sewer, and I found it difficult to walk or stand with any degree of dignity
in my soiled trousers. I was grateful that the other three prisoners
affected not to notice my condition; their pretence enabled me to salvage a
little face. They were still my comrades after all.
The gwei-lo surveyed us. He addressed us softly in perfect, but
strangely-accented, Chinese: "Remove your clothing". We hesitated. He
simply repeated the order, just as softly but this time with an element of
quiet menace in his voice. We all began to take off our mud-caked
uniforms. The gwei-lo looked at us intently and with an odd expression on
his face - what seemed like a mixture of scientific detachment and
enjoyment.
My three comrades stripped down to their underwear. I removed also my
underpants (they had become unbearable) but left my undershirt on. I
covered my sex organs with my hands. We were still filthy, the mud having
seeped through to the skin.
The gwei-lo glared at us: "I meant ALL you clothing", he hissed. We all
hesitated again, just for a couple of seconds. But that was more than
enough. One of the guards stepped forward, and with the butt of his rifle
hit the lad next to me in the small of his back. He crumpled to the ground
crying out in pain. The other guard ripped the boy's underclothes off him,
leaving him naked and writhing on the floor. The rest of us immediately
removed our underwear, all covering our boyhood with our hands.
"That's better", said the gwei-lo. The guards lifted up the lad from the
floor and made him stand upright back in line. "You will do exactly as I
say without hesitation. Remember that your lives are completely in my
hands".
"Now, you are all to be cleaned up. After that you will learn what is to
happen to you".
III.
The guards led us into an adjoining room. There was located a makeshift
shower consisting of a single canvas bag with a shower nozzle suspended
from a hook on the ceiling. We were to take turns under this shower. When
the water ran out one of the lads refilled it from a bucket. The two guards
watched us closely. The first lad under the shower looked about 21. He was
given a bar of soap by the taller of the two guards. The guard watched as
the boy lathered himself.
"What's your name?" demanded the taller guard. "Private Wei Mun-Sim"
answered the boy sheepishly. The guard said harshly, "wash behind your
foreskin so that I can see you do it properly". Sim blushed, but did as he
was told. "That goes for all of you" barked the guard. I wondered why the
guard had issued such a strange order, but I had no idea what lay in store
for us.
I couldn't help staring at Sim. I found myself thinking that there was a
beauty in him. I had caught myself with such thoughts about other men from
time to time in the Army, but had always brushed them aside. But there was
something really beautiful about Sim. He was about 5'7" tall, possessing a
wiry frame and a smooth hairless body except for a small wispy pubic patch
and traces of black hair on the lower legs. His eyes were especially
beautiful - almond shaped. I remember staring at his flaccid cock as he
cleaned it and noticed his small perfectly smooth balls. Just at that
moment I started to have a powerful erection, and I quickly tried to cover
myself with my hands.
The taller guard, however, noticed me. He walked over to me and knocked my
hands away; I let them drop to my sides. He laughed loudly and shouted to
his friend to look. They both looked at my naked groin with its rampant
hard-on. The attention I was now receiving from everyone in the shower room
didn't cause my cock to go soft. On the contrary it got harder and jutted
out engorged at a sharp angle almost parallel to my torso, my cockhead
fully released from its foreskin. I had never felt so embarrassed and
confused. The taller guard took hold of my cockhead with his thumb and
forefinger, pulled it down so that it pointed at the floor, and then let
go. My cock jumped back up so that it hit my abdomen with a loud smack,
wobbled a couple of times and then resumed its earlier posture. Both the
guards roared with laughter.
The shorter guard then came over with a huge smirk on his face, told me to
spread my feet apart, bend over and grab my ankles. I obeyed instantly,
trembling. He walked around behind me and I felt him fondle my cock and
balls for a second or two before placing something small in my arse. The
two guards roared again. Looking up from between my ankles I could see that
he had stuck the long stem of a yellow flower into my arsehole, so that it
protruded about six inches from me.
"Stand up" the shorter guard snapped. I did so, bringing my feet together
at the same time. The taller guard hurried out of the shower room while
everyone else stared at me. My erection wouldn't go away and, to make
matters worse, I felt myself blushing all over. "He looks like a flower
pot, all red and yellow!" guffawed the guard. The other naked boys didn't
laugh, they just stared slack-jawed.
The taller guard then came back in with a camera, and ordered me to stand
sideways to him. He then took about six or eight photos of me with my erect
cock sticking out in one direction and the flower sticking out the other
way. At one point my cock began to droop, but the younger guard grabbed my
boyhood and, with a half dozen stokes, pumped it back up to full strength.
The taller guard ordered the other three naked lads to continue showering
and to do a good job. While they obeyed the shorter guard grabbed Sim,
soaking wet and shivering, by the elbow and dragged him over to me. "You
like this one, huh?" he demanded.
I didn't answer, but just stared at the floor for a couple of seconds. Just
then, he struck me a powerful blow across the face with the back of his
hand and I spun around falling onto the floor on my back. "Get up!", he
screamed furiously. I struggled to my feet. "Answer all my questions when I
ask them, or next time it'll be a bayonet!" he yelled. "You like this boy?"
- it was a demand, not a question.
"Yes", I answered - I could taste blood inside my mouth and the flower had
fallen out of my arse, but my cock was still hard.
This time, he grabbed my balls and twisted them violently, until I yelled
in pain. "Yes, SIR" he yelled. "Yes, SIR" I replied.
He seized Sim by the hair and forced him onto his knees in front of
me. "Suck his cock" he ordered. Sim didn't hesitate; he was as frightened
as I was. He swallowed my cock and began quickly sucking, while the taller
guard resumed taking photos from many different angles. Sim's face was
twisted into a grimace, but at first I wasn't sure if it was because he was
disgusted by his task, or because I had not yet showered and my cock was
still covered in mud and dried piss. Then I noticed that his cock, too, was
getting hard.
"Don't cum in his mouth - pull out and cum onto his face" the taller guard
ordered. "Yes, sir" I gasped. After few moments the younger guard inserted
two of his fingers roughly into my arse, and I could feel myself coming
quickly to climax, so I pushed Sim's head away from my cock and instantly
shot a load of cum onto his face, much of it landing in his wet hair. The
older guard took a lot more pictures of us while my cock slowly went soft
and my cum slid down Sim's face. He then ordered both of us to shower.
After we had all showered the two guards ordered the four us to line up and
march back into the office where we had earlier been ordered to
strip. Being marched around together naked like that made me feel even more
humiliated.
The gwei-lo was still there, still seated behind his desk. We all lined up
about six feet in front of him. The taller guard ordered, "Put your hands
behind your heads and place your feet wide apart". We obeyed, and the
gwei-lo gave us all a good long look, taking particular notice of our naked
crotches. Sim, who had not cum inside the shower room, still had a partial
erection which caused the gwei-lo to chuckle.
"Are they properly cleaned?" the gwei-lo asked the guards. The shorter
guard nodded, pointed to me, and said "this one likes having his cock
sucked - the boy with the hard-on did him in the shower room".
The gwei-lo nodded and smiled. "It seems we may have at least one, then".
"Well, now" said the gwei-lo in his strangely accented Chinese, "the time
has come for you boys to learn something about why you are here, and what
will be expected of you".
IV.
"You are lucky", the gwei-lo said. "You have been taken prisoner, but you
are to have a choice about your fate".
"You have been brought to the PLA's Special Recreation Unit. The SRU is a
prison unit, but a prison unit of an unusual kind. The purpose of this unit
is to provide rest and pleasure to officers of the PLA, foreign advisers to
the PLA and to selected enlisted personnel as a reward for outstanding
service. We provide comfort girls and comfort boys to our patrons,
depending on their taste. Should you remain attached to the SRU, you will
perform the role of comfort boys. A comfort boy's task is to serve the
SRU's patrons in whatever way the patrons wish. Sometimes this will involve
giving massages, washing clothes, making tea or light meals, singing,
reading or dancing for the patrons. Almost all of the patrons, however,
will want you for sex. Sometimes the sex is gentle, and sometimes it is
very rough. Whatever they want you for, and whatever they want you to do,
it is a comfort boy's job to please the patron and to do whatever he
wants. The patrons are almost always men. On rare!
occasions, we are used by women patrons. Specialised training is provided
for the SRU's comfort boys. Some of the training is harsh, and you remain
prisoners. By and large, however, the life of a comfort boy is preferable
to the alternative."
The gwei-lo paused, sipped some tea from a small blue and white bowl, lit a
cigarette and looked each of us in the eyes before continuing: "The
alternative is transportation from here to a regular military prison
camp. You have no doubt heard stories about our prison camps. Life in the
camps is extremely harsh, rations are minimal, and the camps are located in
the North near the border with our Russian brothers where the climate is
extremely hostile. You will be expected to labour at the SRU when not on
comfort duties, but camp labour at our regular military prisons is
especially harsh and often dangerous, and many prisoners do not survive
it. If the climate and the labour do not kill you, the guards or the dogs
might do it anyway. To those guards, you will be counter-revolutionary scum
and enemies of the people. To us at the SRU you will be assets contributing
to our inevitable victory."
The gwei-lo leaned forward on the desk and stubbed out his cigarette. He
got up from his desk and walked around behind us. The taller guard softly
told us to keep our eyes facing front and not to watch the officer. Out of
the corner of my eye I could see him inspecting one of the other boy's back
and arse.
>From behind us he said: "Your chances of surviving the war and returning
to your families after we have won will be much greater if you choose to
remain with the SRU as a comfort boy. The choice is yours. But whichever
option you select, this will probably be the last free choice you will
make".
Then he was silent for what seemed about three minutes. I sensed him behind
me. Suddenly, I felt his hand gently feeling my arse - first the left
cheek, then the right. As he reached between my legs to fondle my balls my
cock began to stiffen, and I heard his breath quicken slightly and a slight
grunt of approval as he felt my growing erection from this unusual
angle. My cock was encouraged with a few skilful downward strokes from his
hand.
The gwei-lo walked slowly back to his desk and resumed his seat, leaving me
standing there, hands behind my head and legs apart, with an unconcealable
rampant erection. I could see without moving my neck that all the other
boys also had full or partial erections, and I guessed that he had given
them similar treatment.
"If you decide to stay at SRU", the gwei-lo continued, "you must learn that
you have no will of your own, and that you belong to the SRU and its
patrons. If you learn this, you will survive the war. If not, you will be
sent to one of our regular military prisons or - depending on the nature of
your offence - shot".
"It is very late now. You will make your decision by the morning and inform
me at our meeting then. In the meantime, the guards will take you to your
sleeping quarters for tonight. We will meet at twelve hundred hours
tomorrow."
At this the gwei-lo abruptly stood up, took one last long look at us four
naked and erect boys. When he looked at me I thought a slight smile came to
his lips for just a moment. He asked me, "You are an officer?".
"Yes", I replied. At this, the shorter guard came around in front of me,
and with his middle finger give the tip of my erect cock a savage
flick. The pain was awful, and I let out a tortured howl, tears coming to
my eyes. It felt like an electric shock. I never realised that such a small
action could cause such incredible agony.
"Yes SIR", the guard yelled in my face. "Yes sir", I echoed.
The gwei-lo stepped in front of me and stood a mere foot away. He examined
the front of my body very carefully. The guard's sudden assault on my cock
had caused it to go completely limp. The foreigner gently took hold of my
balls with one hand and slowly increased the pressure on them. He gazed
intently at my face as the pressure slowly grew. His green eyes sparkled,
and I felt powerfully attracted by his beautiful blond hair and handsome
pale features. When the pressure became very painful, I began to wince.
Keeping hold of my balls, but no longer increasing the pressure, the
foreigner leaned forward, and very softly whispered in my ear: "You're
enjoying this, aren't you?". I paused for a brief moment, before whispering
back in a quavering voice, "Yes sir".
Releasing me and turning to the older guard he crisply ordered: "Take their
details and secure them!" Then, pointing to me, he said: "But bring this
one to my room - I want to teach him a few tricks".
With this, the foreigner turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the
door into the night.
V.
As soon as the gwei-lo officer had left the room, the taller guard sat down
at the desk while the shorter one stood behind us where I couldn't see him.
"Keep your eyes front!", the shorter guard barked threateningly.
We four boys remained standing, naked, legs apart, hands behind our heads
and looking straight ahead. I felt humiliated and frightened. But I also
experienced an odd curiosity - a deep un-nameable desire to remain and
submit to these men. Never before in my young life had I experienced such
confusion.
"I'll take your names and other details", the taller guard casually said
while picking up a pen. As he took our particulars I learned that Sim was a
private aged 19, one year more than me though he looked a little older,
from Hubei province. The other two were both corporals. Ma Teng-Cha was 23
and came from Shanghai. The last lad was Lee Guan-Ming, whose home was in
Fujian province, aged 21.
"I am comrade-Sergeant Bo, and my colleague behind you is comrade-Corporal
Yang", the older guard said casually. "We are not really your guards. We
are more your keepers. Before joining the PLA, I kept horses on a large
estate for my family's landlord. That old bastard is dead now, the PLA
having given me the pleasure of killing him myself. Corporal Yang kept
pigs. So we know all about looking after animals. Whether you are treated
like horses or pigs will depend mostly on you. If you obey our commands
completely, and speak only when spoken to, and if you show proper respect
then you will be kept like a valuable breeding horse. If you do not, then
you will be treated like the pigs I suspect you really are."
Out of the corners of my eyes I could see that the two older lads'
erections had wilted and that their naked uncircumcised cocks now rested
limply against their balls. Sim, however, maintained a raging hard-on with
his foreskin completely retracted and his pinkish-yellow cockhead pointing
emphatically to the ceiling. He was standing on my left, and I could sense
his concentrated embarrassment.
Sergeant Bo paused for a moment while he assessed Sim's genitals. "Let's
hope you can perform like that for the Captain", Sergeant Bo said at last,
breaking into a crooked smile.
"You have already met the Captain", Sergeant Bo continued addressing all
four of us. "He is the foreign officer. You are to call him 'master' from
now on. He is in charge of all the comfort boys - the male animals - in the
SRU. You will call Corporal Yang and me 'sir' at all times. In the morning,
if you decide to stay in the SRU, you will be interrogated by an
intelligence officer and your induction into the SRU will begin. If you
decide to leave the SRU, you will be transported to a regular military
prison and interrogated there".
This was my first chance to get a good look at Sergeant Bo. Even seated he
was obviously tall for a Chinese, maybe about 6 feet, and of sturdy build
without being stocky. He didn't have the peasant look of most soldiers, and
he spoke in clear and fluent Chinese. His face was long and angular, with
striking black eyebrows. His nose was like a westerner's, not at all
flattened as is often the case among our people. Even his close-cropped
black hair had a unique and faintly fashionable look to it, not like the
product of a typical army barber. He wore silver wire-rimmed glasses when
he wrote. The over all effect was of a tall, handsome Chinese man aged
about 30-33. No wonder the landlord had chosen him to be the groom for the
estate's precious horses.
After a pause of a few seconds, Sergeant Bo looked past us to Corporal
Yang. "Have I missed anything?", Sergeant Bo enquired.
"Questions" was Corporal Yang's only reply.
"Oh yes", Sergeant Bo said absently. "Now is your chance to ask any
questions. I am not obliged to answer, and remember to address me as
'sir'."
I was the youngest of the four prisoners. But as the only officer in our
little group, I felt it my responsibility to speak up for the other
men. "As prisoners of war, we are entitled to be treated with some
respect", I blurted out. "Why are we naked - when do we get some clothes?
...... sir".
Sergeant Bo glared at me. "It is well that you called me 'sir'. But you
must also learn to use a respectful tone. And you must also learn not to
look directly at us when you speak but to keep your eyes on the ground." I
immediately averted my gaze. "Were it not for the fact that the Captain
has required your presence for his entertainment tonight, you could expect
a beating."
Rising from behind the desk and coming over to stand in front of Sim,
Sergeant Bo casually fondled Sim's erect cock with one hand, causing him to
squirm slightly. Speaking to us all Sergeant Bo said, "My horses, and
Corporal Yang's pigs, never wore anything unless we put something on them
for special occasions or particular purposes - a bridle, a saddle, a
collar, a bow. It will be the same with you if you stay in the SRU. Naked
men are easier to control and less likely to attempt escape."
Moving his hand to gently cup and weigh Sim's smooth balls, Sergeant Bo
continued: "Your nudity will also remind you of your inferior status and
your special function here. Horses and pigs have no privacy. Everyone can
see the whole animal. The keepers and the other livestock can see when an
animal relieves itself, when it eats and sleeps, and when it has an
erection. So will it be with you. Sometimes, like the farm animals, the
keepers and the other livestock will see you get fucked. Just accept
it. Some patrons like to meet a comfort boy who is properly and modestly
dressed, before perhaps slowly unwrapping their little parcel. Others
prefer to have the boy completely naked from the first, or 'dressed' in a
special and exciting way. We are well aware of the preferences of our
regular patrons. You may be permitted to wear something above the waist in
cold weather if you are well behaved, but you will normally be kept naked
unless one of your keepers specifically directs other! wise."
Sergeant Bo paused and turned his attention to Sim's tits, drawing little
circles around them with his thumb: "The SRU is not for your benefit. It is
for the pleasure of the patrons. Even so, your nakedness will better allow
your master and keepers to ensure that you remain fit and healthy, for the
patrons' benefit. You will be unable to hide anything here. But you will
receive lots of healthy food and plenty of good exercise."
"Sir", I said looking at the ground, "respectfully, this is not the Chinese
way. Our people are extremely modest and nakedness is shameful. Please to
reconsider."
"You are seriously trying my patience", Sergeant Bo intoned as he
relinquished a playful probing of Sim's navel, and came over to me. He
grabbed my left tit and gave it a savage and very painful twist, causing me
to yelp. "You think I do not know Chinese ways? Most of those old ways are
to be swept aside with our victory. The ways of the SRU are clear. We have
many comfort boys already and this is our procedure. In this unit, you will
be our property with no more rights than farm livestock. Your kind have
treated the People like cattle for centuries, now it is your turn. If your
nakedness contributes in some small way to our victory, then it is not
shameful but glorious."
"May I speak?" said Corporal Yang from behind us.
After a nod from Sergeant Bo, Corporal Yang proceeded, "None of you has a
rank any more. I put a flower up your arse officer-boy and had your pretty
little whore friend with the hard-on suck you off for the benefit of our
camera. Judging by the amount of spunk you blew all over him, you were
having a good time. Do you think you have any weight to throw around here?
And another thing; Sergeant Bo and I get horny from time to time. The
Captain - your master - lets us use the comfort boys for our pleasure
provided we don't permanently mark them. It's one of our perks. We are also
responsible for supervising your training in the art of pleasing the
patrons. I'm really looking forward to a session with you,
officer-boy. You've got a really cute butt, like two small ripe melons -
one of the nicest I've seen. And I've seen dozens of bare butts on our
comfort boys from all possible angles. I'll bet I can get you to squeal
like a Hubei pig with my cock rammed right up your tight little!
virgin arse - though you might not be a virgin by morning if the Captain
needs a fuck tonight".
I was stunned into silence, but felt a strange mix of humiliation and
excitement at what the 'keepers' had said. Mercifully, though, I did not
get an erection.
"Anything else?", asked Sergeant Bo after a short pause.
At this point I heard Cha, the oldest lad, speak for the first time, with a
distinctive Shanghai accent but in a nervous pleading tone: "Sir, I want to
see my family again. But I don't want to catch the sex diseases. I could
not return to my parents if I had those things. I'd rather go to the
regular prison".
Sergeant Bo looked at him and said clearly and deliberately enough for us
all to hear: "No need to worry about that. You will be serving people very
important to us, and the SRU guarantees them that its comfort boys are
clean and healthy. The same doctors who look after our top commanders will
give you a thorough weekly examination. They will make sure that you are
kept in good condition for our clients' safety and pleasure. The sick are
removed from pleasure duties until they are fully rehabilitated. We find,
however, that it is very rare for our livestock to catch anything from the
sorts of people who are usually the SRU's patrons. Furthermore, the
existence of the SRU makes it unnecessary for our leaders to seek risky
entertainments elsewhere. If you are used sexually by a non-regular patron
you'll normally be examined three days later, and you won't be available
for pleasure duties with another patron until that has happened. If you
stay with the SRU, and if you perform yo! ur duties with subservience and
diligence, your chances of eventually returning home alive and in excellent
health are very high."
Sergeant Bo returned to the desk and sat down. Lighting a cigarette and
stretching his legs he said: "There is also the chance that one of our
patrons might take an interest in you. It happens occasionally. These are
often powerful or influential people, and scum like you who have fought us
may need protectors after our inevitable victory. Certainly, you should do
nothing to displease a patron. You may even grow to enjoy aspects of your
life here. Most of the comfort boys quickly learn to enjoy the sex, or at
least to approach their task professionally. This is more likely when
prisoners are given an initial choice to remain with the SRU. Prisoners who
are completely repelled by the idea of a comfort boy's role will usually
choose a regular prison.
Sergeant Bo blew an expertly formed smoke ring while casually crossing his
legs: "My strong advice to you is to accept your chance to stay with the
SRU, unless you are actually made sick by the idea of having sex with a
man. Some of our patrons strongly prefer boys who are 'real men', as they
are sometimes called - though most prefer a masculine boy who can show some
pleasure in his duties. There are worse ways to survive a war, and much
worse ways not to survive."
Then there was silence for about half a minute. Sergeant Bo stubbed out his
cigarette, looked past us to Corporal Yang and said: "I think that's
it. Take these three [pointing to Sim, Cha and Ming] to the cell but leave
our pretty little officer-boy with me. I'll prepare him for the Captain's
quarters".
With that, Corporal Yang marched the other three prisoners naked out the
same door by which the Captain had earlier gone, and I was left alone with
Sergeant Bo.
VI.
Sergeant Bo remained sitting behind the Captain's desk as he lit another
cigarette. While he took his first few puffs, he considered me
intently. "You look younger than eighteen", he said at last.
"I am eighteen
and to sound respectful.
"Well you are - or were - an officer. I suppose you really couldn't be any
younger than you claim. You do look young, though. I'd guess your age at
sixteen. In any event, you'll certainly be popular with several of our
regular patrons who prefer their boys to be young and pretty". Sergeant Bo
continued scrutinising me pensively, but remained silent for another minute
or so. Then, suddenly, reaching under the desk, he produced a camera,
pointed it at me, and took my picture. The flash blinded me for a moment,
and I was left blinking and dazed until my sight returned.
"You may stand easy for now", he said he made a sweeping gesture in my
direction with his hand.
I felt relieved to be able to lower my arms and stand a bit more naturally
- though being completely naked in front of this menacing stranger seemed
far from natural. So, I covered my genitals with my hands.
Finally rising to his feet, he rubbed his chin as though considering a
riddle and looked at the wall. Speaking aloud, but as though to himself, he
said "Captain Bartek requires your presence tonight. That probably means he
wants to fuck you." At this, I felt as though I'd been slapped on the face,
and I must have blushed a deep red. I also felt my rectum involuntarily
tighten.
Turning to me he continued, "But the difficulty is you are not yet actually
part of the SRU. So the question is, do I take you to him as if you were a
comfort boy or do you get some clothes? The Captain is fastidious about
these things, but I'm not sure about this situation. I think the right
thing is to dress you. That way Captain Bartek can decide once I hand you
over".
Sergeant Bo walked over to a large cupboard next to the door leading to the
shower room. He removed a package and tossed it at me. Reflexively I caught
it. "Put these on", he ordered. "This will be your uniform when,
occasionally, you are allowed to wear something".
Wrapped in brown string was a bundle of black cotton. After untying the
string I saw what looked like a pair of black pyjamas. The short-sleeved
shirt had no buttons, and I quickly pulled it over my head. Once I had
pulled on the short pants I needed to tie them with a white cotton cord
threaded through the waist. The pants had a slit in the front, like
pyjamas, which I adjusted to hide my boyhood. The attire wasn't much; it
was light, very baggy, and there were no underwear or shoes. But it was
clean and I instantly felt much less exposed. I also felt a bit braver, and
I recalled Sergeant Bo's earlier observation that naked men are easier to
control and less likely to attempt escape.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder at how and why I remember such small
details. This initial encounter with the SRU in that wooden hut all those
years ago now seems simultaneously intensely real and vaguely dream-like. I
guess I sensed that every word, every action, and every gesture was
decisively shaping the rest of my life; indeed, they could determine
whether I would live at all. Each small detail of those first few hours was
seared into my memory, like a smoking brand into the flesh of an ox.
I had dropped the long piece of string which had tied the black
uniform. Sergeant Bo ordered me to pick it up and to hand it to him. He
took the string, went back to the desk, produced a pair of handcuffs from a
drawer, and cuffed my hands behind my back. Then he swiftly reached into
the slit of my pants, pulled it open and yanked out my cock and balls. He
roughly tied one end of the string tightly around the base of my balls and
took the other end in his hand. "If you drop something you will always pick
it up", he said. "Do you think we are to do these things? I'll now take you
to Captain Bartek's quarters. If you don't keep up, your balls will be very
sore by the time we get there. And I'm pretty sure you'll need them both
for the Captain tonight".
Leading me by the string leash wrapped around my balls, Sergeant Bo left
the hut and stepped out into the warm night.
VII.
I struggled to keep up with him, and every few paces my balls would receive
a violent and painful tug. After a couple of minutes, and in spite of my
gait being impeded by an inability to swing my arms, I got the measure of
Sergeant Bo's stride and was able to keep in step behind him. This greatly
reduced the pain inflicted by the string noose around my balls.
We walked across what, in the dark, appeared to be a large grassy square,
and then down a gravel path which hurt my feet. After we had walked for
about three minutes past a line of wooden huts, Sergeant Bo stopped outside
a larger one and untied my balls before shoving my cock and painful balls
back into my pants and adjusting the slit to cover me up.
He knocked on the door of the hut, and a voice I recognised as the
Captain's replied "Enter!"
Grabbing me by the back of the neck, Sergeant Bo steered me roughly into a
brightly lit room in which the Captain was seated at a small table with two
other men. They were playing cards. The smell of cigarette smoke and liquor
hung rancidly over the table. Cigarette ash and an empty bottle of Russian
vodka littered the floor, while the table was adorned with overflowing
ashtrays and small glass tumblers.
After my eyes adjusted to the bright light I could see that the two men
were, like Captain Bartek, gwei-los - white Europeans. They wore uniforms
which I didn't recognise, but impressive flashes on their shoulders
indicated that they were officers of some sort. One of them was about
forty, balding and quite stocky. The other, clearly younger, was probably
in his mid-twenties (although it's always hard to guess a gwei-lo's
age). He was as tall as Captain Bartek with wavy brown hair and very fair
skin.
"Ah, Comrade-Sergeant Bo
slurred and his foreign accent had become much thicker. "I see you've
brought the entertainment". His older companion sniggered loudly.
"Yes Comrade-Captain", replied Sergeant Bo, standing to attention. "The
other prisoners are being secured by Corporal Yang". Speaking to me,
Sergeant Bo yelled, "Stand to attention in front of the officers!" I
snapped to attention, but felt an uncomfortable tenderness in my
balls. Strangely, the pain was accompanied by a growing erection. I hoped
it wouldn't be noticed through my baggy black pants.
Sergeant Bo took three large steps over to the table and handed Captain
Bartek the key to my handcuffs.
"Well done, well done. You may go, Sergeant Bo".
Sergeant Bo saluted and marched crisply out of the hut, closing the door
behind him.
The three seated card players assessed me through a slightly drunken
haze. The older one pointed at me and said something to Captain Bartek in a
language that sounded possibly Russian. The Captain replied in the same
language with a mock-sly tone, and the three of them roared with laughter.
Looking at me Captain Bartek said, "My friends speak only a little
Chinese. As none of us are paid anything worth gambling, I have agreed to
bet you on the next hand. If I win, I get half a crate of the finest
vodka. If I lose, the winner gets to do whatever he likes with you
tonight. Are you worth six bottles of vodka, boy?"
"Yes
"If I lose, you'd better be. I don't like to cheat on friends".
The younger gwei-lo dealt a hand, and after two or three minutes, the three
of them again roared laughing. The older one and Captain Bartek pointed at
the younger gwei-lo and shouted happily in their language.
"Lieutenant Solokov has won you, boy", Captain Bartek said. "You're his for
tonight, or until he falls over drunk". The older gwei-lo laughed again,
but Solokov who had 'won' me, seemed not to understand.
Solokov spoke to me in his language, and Captain Bartek translated,
"Comrade-Lieutenant Solokov wants to know if it's true what I told him
earlier - that you enjoyed our little encounter this evening at the
reception hut".
"Yes master", I said softly. Solokov seemed to understand this much
Chinese.
"I've also told him that you have not yet agreed to join the SRU. He wants
to know if you've made up your mind".
I found myself - heard myself - saying "Yes master, I wish to be part of
the SRU". In spite of the pain in my balls, or perhaps because of it, I
felt my cock continue to stiffen inside my black pants. I knew I had taken
a huge step, but something deep inside me felt incredibly calm and content.
"I knew it - I can spot them" said Captain Bartek triumphantly, who then
appeared to translate my reply for his two companions. Solokov broke into a
broad smile, revealing a set of startlingly white teeth.
"You understand what you have chosen?", Captain Bartek asked.
"Yes master", I replied in a calm level voice.
At this point my fully erect cock appeared through the slit in the front of
my pants, and the older gwei-lo almost fell of his chair in uncontrolled
drunken laughter. The laughter was infectious. The sudden appearance of my
cock right at the moment of my consent to join the SRU, combined no doubt
with the lubricant of vodka, resulted in all three once again falling about
the table in gales of laughter. My hands firmly secured behind my back, I
spent a few moments trying to squirm my hips so as to bring my erect cock
back inside my pants - but to no avail.
As soon as the three gwei-los had managed to compose themselves, Solokov
gestured for me to approach him. I walked over to stand right next to him.
"Don't look at a patron unless you are invited to!" snapped Captain
Bartek. I looked away at the floor.
Solokov tugged at the knot holding up my pants, and they fell to the
floor. He tapped my legs indicating that I should stand with my feet
apart. I stood there naked from the waist down as my erection jutted out at
a steep angle. Captain Bartek dealt another round of cards, and the three
of them continued playing while Solokov fondled my cock and balls with his
left hand, holding cards in his right. Occasionally, his hand would reach
between my legs and probe my arse. Several times he attempted to push a
finger inside my arse, but my muscles automatically tightened and denied
him entry. Fortunately, Solokov did not attempt to force his finger inside
me.
This went on for maybe twenty minutes as the three companions played
several rounds of their game, chatting among themselves in their faintly
ugly language. The smoking and drinking continued. I grew increasingly
excited by Solokov's fondlings and masturbation of my cock, and eventually
I could feel myself beginning to cum. As I groaned loudly, all three
stopped their game to watch me as I shot three or four long streams of
creamy white cum over Solokov's arm, trousers and boots, and onto the floor
and card table.
Solokov let forth a long appreciative whistle and relinquished his sticky
grip on my cock. The older gwei-lo emitted a contented 'mmmmmm".
With a faint smile on his face, which hinted at approval, Captain Bartek
said "Clean it all up boy". I looked at him with apparent bewilderment. My
hands were cuffed behind my back, and I didn't know where or how to get a
rag. Sensing my confusion he said "Lick it up with your tongue, boy".
I started by licking my cum off Solokov's uniform and his hand, which he
held out for me. I felt enormously embarrassed by the orgasmic display I
had just given the gwei-los, and now I was being humiliated in this most
bizarre way - naked below the waist, still partly erect, hands cuffed
behind my back, licking up my own cum in front of three obviously amused
spectators.
I had never tasted cum before, and it was strangely salty and tangy. After
I'd cleaned up Solokov's hand and clothes I proceeded to his boots. I had
to get on my knees for this and bend forward awkwardly. While licking my
white cream off his boot in this exposed position, Solokov took has chance
to shove a finger into my arse-hole, and got it half way in. Startled, and
with my hands cuffed behind me, I fell forward flat onto my face with my
arse sticking up in the air. This produced yet more hilarious laughter from
my audience.
My face landed in the puddle of cum which had hit the floor, and as I
managed to recover my kneeling position, it clung wetly to my right cheek
and chin. Instantly, Solokov lifted me up by the armpits onto my feet and
shoved my head at the cum which had landed on the card table. Bent over the
table at the waist I licked at the three or four spots of cum which had
fallen there. When I tried to stand again the older gwei-lo grabbed the
back of my neck and held my head to the small table.
On the edge of my vision I saw Solokov unbuckling his belt and lowering
first his khaki trousers, and then his white boxer shorts to his knees. For
a brief moment I caught glimpse of a sight which caused me almost as much
dismay as the realisation that I was about to be fucked for the first time
in my life. Solokov's pubic hair was not black - it was a very light
brown. Furthermore, his cock was considerably longer and pinker than
anything I had seen on my own countrymen. Not only that, but his cock had
no foreskin! For a brief moment, I even wondered whether Solokov was human
at all.
This alarming thought was cut short by the feeling of Solokov's large hands
gripping my naked hips and the head of his large cock pressing against my
arse-hole. Solokov shoved hard, and I felt as though I would be split open,
but only his cock head penetrated my gateway. I cried loudly in pain as the
muscles in my rectum tightened involuntarily.
I heard Solokov speak in his language to the other two, and in a moment he
withdrew his cock. Captain Bartek then applied something wet and slippery
to my arse-hole with two fingers, and I glimpsed Solokov rubbing the same
stuff over his cock. The older gwei-lo continued pinning my neck to the
table with one hand.
Solokov then resumed his fucking position behind me, and with two hard
thrusts pushed his large cock all the way into me. I screamed in pain and
began to sob, but Captain Bartek shoved my discarded black pants into my
mouth. Solokov began a slow fucking motion while leaning on the top of my
buttocks with his hands. Captain Bartek and the older gwei-lo continued
speaking to Solokov in their language, and I had the impression they were
directing or advising him.
After about two or three minutes of Solokov's gentle fucking I began to
feel more relaxed. Sensing this, the older gwei-lo let go of my neck and I
began to enjoy the sensations in my arse. I still felt uncomfortably split
by Solokov's slowly moving cock, but I also began to feel its warmth, its
firmness and its width. It was an invader, but an exciting one. Then, as I
grew more accustomed to it, I became aware of his balls delicately drumming
against my buttocks with each gentle stoke of his cock. My own balls, which
had given up their seed twice already that evening, stirred once more and I
could feel my cock stiffen in its uncomfortable confinement between my
belly and the table top.
At last, I surprised myself as I let out a low throaty moan of pleasure,
and Captain Bartek removed the pants from my mouth. After a few more
minutes, during which the older gwei-lo had opened his fly and begun
masturbating himself while observing Solokov and me, Solokov's pace
quickened. His thrusting became energetic, and he leaned forward, grabbing
my pecs. Then he started seriously bucking inside me and he called out
something loudly in his language, his two companions shouting back
encouragement to him. Within moments, and for the first time in my life, I
felt my arse filling (or so it seemed) with the hot cum of another man.
Then, in an instant, Solokov withdrew his cock from me and I suddenly felt
much more comfortable - but also strangely empty. Captain Bartek removed my
handcuffs and, placing a hand under my chest, raised me to a standing
position. I could feel a small amount of Solokov's cum trickling out of my
arse and down the inside of my leg, and my cock was fully erect again.
"Remove your shirt", Captain Bartek ordered. He took the shirt from me
tossed it over a chair. "Now go and clean up Lieutenant Solokov".
Now I got a good look at Solokov. He was more than six feet tall and had a
really handsome face with light brown eyes and a strong chin. He stood in
front of me with his pants around his knees and his bizarre sexual region
on display. In addition to the oddities I had previously noticed, I could
now see that his balls were larger and hairier than anything I had ever
seen on a Chinese. I wondered if all the gwei-los looked like that with
their pants off.
I sensed what I had to do. Not having been given any cloths or towels, I
knelt in front of Solokov and licked and sucked his cock, balls and pubic
area until he was clean. Even limp, his cock must have been as long as
most Chinese when erect. When I placed my hands on his buttocks to steady
myself, I noticed also that Solokov's arse was large by Chinese standards
but very firm.
Finally I ceased my licking, and Solokov raised his trousers and buckled
up. He gestured for me to stand. As I rose, my knees wobbled beneath me and
I suddenly felt totally exhausted and a little nauseous. It must have been
about three in the morning by this time, which meant it had been about nine
hours since I was 'rescued' from the battlefield, about 15 hours since I
had eaten, and about 21 hours since I had slept. During that intense time I
had been through some of the most terrifying, stressful and exciting
experiences of my whole life. Also, to my dismay, I had discovered a
central truth about myself which had previously been hidden.
All together, it was far too much for me. I fell forward towards Solokov
and passed out.
I spill my 40 for you.
Fuck All ACs
CLiT owns the FP