Behind Enemy Lines (M/MM) [Parts FIVE and SIX up]

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Behind Enemy Lines (M/MM) [Parts FIVE and SIX up]

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Behind Enemy Lines


-New Orders-

huh-ha huh-ha huh-ha

Aaron wouldn't be out of the woods until he hit the treeline. The enemy soldiers wouldn't dare follow him into the forest, and he knew it. Garbled shouts in a language he didn't understand rang out behind him and suddenly his shadow was thrown forward.

huuh-ha huuh-ha huuh-ha

The key was rhythm. His left foot hits the ground, inhale. Inhale until his right foot hits the ground, exhale.

huuh-ha huuuh-ha huuuh-ha

Aaron's breaths were getting longer, out of sync; inconsistent. Even worse were his partner's, a little ways behind him. It was supposed to be a simple mission...

huuuuh-haa huuuuh-ha huuuuh-ha-
CRACK
The treeline was 100 feet away when the breathing behind him stopped. The noise that preceded his partner collapsing on the frozen dirt wasn't a gunshot, Aaron knew that much. He had trained with the same guns they saw the enemy carrying; he knew what they sounded like.

huuuuuuuh-haaa huuuuuuuh-haaa huuuuuuuh-haaa

As soon as he hit the treeline, Aaron's brown army-standard boot caught a the tangled stem of some long-frozen brush. At the speed he was going, there was no time to adjust, and he was thrown face-first into the thicket of icy brambles. Adrenaline pouring through him, he just managed to turn around when the voice called out,

"You there!" the accent was unfamiliar, "Don't run yet!" About 100 feet behind him, back where his comrade fell, were the soldiers that had been pursuing him. Five of them, all in the tan-white fatigues Aaron had come to fear. The one at the forefront walked towards him, trudging a body with one hand and the other rested on a pistol.

"Lay down your weapons!" yelled the man holding his fellow soldier's unconscious body. Aaron considered his options. Somehow, in spite of everything, he found himself throwing his own sidearm, slowly and deliberately, back into the clearing he had just fallen out of.

"Is that all?!" the man yelled in response. By now, with the flashlights of each of the other four soldiers' guns trained on him, Aaron dignified his question with just a nod.

"Good. You have handcuffs?" Another nod.

"Stand!" he commanded. Aaron obeyed with nothing but malice in his face.

"Ten paces forward!" His steps were careful.

"Stop!" the lead soldier cried after only eight. "On your knees! Hands up, and handcuff yourself!"

The metal was coldest as Aaron followed his new orders and secured the matte black metal cuffs to his wrists, as high above his head as he could keep them. Keeping his head down, but his eyes up, he saw the muddied white boots of two soldiers come into view before a smooth hood was pulled over his head. It didn't feel like the ordinary cloth sack you'd see in movies; no, this was more of a neoprene, almost lycra material that clung, if loosely, to his freezing and sweaty face.

Unable to see what they were going to do to him next, Aaron couldn't stop them from flinging him forward onto his face. His legs were pulled away from each other and he felt each soldier attach a metal cuff, much larger than his own thin handcuffs, to his ankles. Aaron kept his mouth shut.

The two men hauled the young soldier to his feet, and he realized whatever restraint had been placed on his legs must have been rigid. He couldn't move then any closer than two feet apart.

The man with the strange accent laughed, "this is a good catch I think. There will be a lot to do when we get back. A lot to learn, if you will teach?" A hand roughly grabbed Aaron's chin through the hood and tilted it upwards. Still, he remained calm.

"Fucking Americans. Never stop talking until you want conversation. Be a bitch all you want," the words that followed, Aaron didn't understand, but the rest of the soldiers found whatever had been said hysterical.

Without another word, Aaron and his partner were dragged back to the patrol vehicles that had discovered them in the first place and thrown into the trunk of one. For what felt like three hours, Aaron, at the top of his lungs, recited the National Anthem until his throat grew sore. All the while, his partner's unconscious body crushing him against the bouncing, vibrating floor.


Two Weeks Prior
The colonel's order to meet him and his senior adviser in the operations tent came as a complete surprise to Aaron. The young solder, no older than 20 from the looks of his flat physique and military non-standard fringe haircut, was in actuality a month away from his 25th birthday. The colonel slept easier knowing he wasn't sending in a kid.

"Colonel Forte, sir!" Aaron reported, standing straight as a rod in the entrance to the large tent.

"At ease, soldier. Take a seat, this will only take a few minutes."

Aaron did so, careful not to rumble his fatigues on the rough metal chair. He had done nothing wrong. There was nothing he had to fear. Still, he had never reported higher than his captain before.

"Private Aaron Dale. You ran Cross Country in high school?"

"Correct, sir."

"Four time state champion?"

"Three time state champion, sir."

"Honesty, excellent. Private, I have a task for you of utmost importance," with a subtle gesture, the colonel waved the rest of his men out of the tent. "In plain terms, I need you to run like hell."
Last edited by Gaggedwriter 4 years ago, edited 4 times in total.
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-Be a Bitch All You Want-

The fleet of patrol vehicles, not altogether unlike four pickup trucks on treads rather than tires, returned to camp much sooner than expected. Isaac was proud of how soon he and his men were able to capture the two rogue officers of the enemy army. They were well hidden, and he gave them credit, but he knew this land.

One of them, the blond one, the better runner, had not stopped screaming his country's anthem since his capture. They resolved not to stop and silence him, knowing full well how sweet it would be if they waited...

Isaac stepped out onto the ground, here a little more thawed due to the constant foot traffic, and motioned for the trunk to be opened. Not a second later, the body of the other soldier was pushed upwards and toppled off of the singer. This one would be a lot more fun to work with, and Isaac was glad to see him writhing around on the ground and not still unconscious from the pistol whip he had received earlier.

"And the HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME of theeeeeeee BRAAAAAA-" the singer's last rendition, now barely a screamed whisper, was cut short as two soldiers lifted him from the trunk and carried him to Isaac's feet. His hood was not yet removed, and the black material clashed against his white parka.

"What was that?" Isaac asked. The singer did not respond.

"No, I think you were saying something earlier, no? The home of, who? My friends, they are so rude, they interrupt your beautiful singing."

When, for a second time, he was met with silence, Isaac delivered a quick kick to the man's back. With the wind blown out of him, the singer rolled to cover his newly bruised back. Isaac set one white boot on his chest.

"You, you act like a bitch?" No response.

"I asked you a question, soldier." No response.

"Fine. If you will be a bitch, I will have a bitch then." In one cruel motion, Isaac pulled his foot off of the bound man's chest and landed another kick just above his kidney. The singer reeled upwards from the pain, coughing deeply, and a final kick hit him squarely between his forced-spread legs.

"Bring the bitch to HT. The other can go with the rest of the prisoners."

~*~

The quarter mile sprint took a lot out of Aaron. He normally should have been able to take the kicks from the sadistic soldier with the strange accent. Nonetheless, the assault left him so winded that he hung limply in the arms of the two soldiers that carried him away. It didn't help that he was tied up and powerless to defend himself.

This was the encampment they had been sent to scout. A holding camp for prisoners before they were shipped like cattle to the real prisons. Over the last week he and his partner had collected enough intel to overfill the colonel's file, and yet Aaron still had no idea what awaited him in HT.

"Do you know what he is going to do to you?" asked the soldier on his left.

"We don't even know, so your guess is as good as ours," the right added.

"I'm fucked no mmmatter what, ssoo bring it onnnn" Aaron slurred. He didn't want any more violence. He could deal with violence tomorrow. The soldiers seemed to laugh, but didn't respond.

A minute later, he was properly brought to his feet. Warm air against his face told him they may have arrived.

"Well, you singsong piece of shit, I hope you and your faggot friend are happy now"

There was murmuring in front of him that he couldn't make out, then a new pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward. With his legs spread, Aaron was forced to waddle back and forth in order to follow his guide. That, and his balls hadn't quite come back from his punishment earlier.

"Sit." The voice commanding him now was a woman's, as much of a relief to him as the comfortably warm, humid atmosphere of HT. Doing as he was told, the hand on his chest pushed him back further onto the gurney he had been directed to.

Another pair of hands, or maybe the same, began rifling through his belt compartments. "The key is in my front right pocket." Aaron guessed it made sense to not keep him bound as he was, and it turned out he was right.

The leg-cuffs came off first, and he made no attempt to move them, but as soon as the handcuffs came off, Aaron flew into action. He whipped the hood off of his face with his left hand while his right swung in an outward arc towards whoever had just freed him.

WHAM crack

His hand connected just under the neck and immediately he recoiled and swung again, hitting the man just under the chin. It was a man, he could now see, that had untied him. The 6'6, black man stumbled backwards and caught himself on the door-frame of the small room. Like a miniscule, hellish hospital room, all there was was the gurney, a metal rack, and a wooden chair all encased within the slate grey walls and heavy-looking metal door.

The momentum of Aaron's attacks helped pull him up to his feet and he jumped off the gurney, facing the man. At 5'8, he was reconsidering everything.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

The man looked unimpressed, and took two steps towards Aaron, closing the distance. He silently pointed at the gurney.

Aaron sighed and, keeping himself facing the man, began to climb back onto the plinth. "Lie down. Straight, legs together, arms at your sides," the man instructed, and Aaron followed.

As soon as he had done so, the man pulled the sides of the sheet up and over Aaron's body. Or at least, he had thought it was a sheet. Instead, he was suddenly covered from head to toe in a white neoprene bag. Every four inches was a brown leather belt that the man, one by one, tightened to an uncomfortable degree.

"What the fuck are you going to do to me?" Aaron asked. He just smiled, "I don't even know. I'm just a guard."

The final strap, right over his shoulders, was secured in place. All that was visible were Aaron's head from the neck up and boots just above the ankle. Very soon he discovered a new problem.

"Excuse me?" politeness seemed a joke but he saw where being a bitch had gotten him in the past, "my jacket is still on." The man started fully laughing.

"Next time don't bite the hand that feeds you."

With that, Aaron was left alone and the metal door was locked into place. There was no light in the room, he noticed, what there had been was bleeding in from the hall.

He also realized what HT could mean.

Heat Torture.
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Post by Xtc »

I always enjoy non-linear narratives.
Write on!
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Post by that1kid13 »

Aghhh I love anything Military/war style . I’m already hooked keep going
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I’m normally behind on stories and don’t have to wait for “next instalments”. Please don’t keep me waiting long!!
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-In Position-

Left alone in the lightless room and bound near-perfectly in the neoprene sleepsack, there was no way Aaron could tell for sure, but he was almost certain it was getting hotter.

It started less as a painful heat so much as a discomfort with how tight his bonds were. The thick leather straps holding him down under the white rubbery sheet were pulled nearly to his skin, and as such had compressed his heavy winter fatigues incredibly far into his chest and stomach. He could hardly breathe even before the heat flashes.

"Hello?" he called out, still lacking his better judgement after the beating he had received earlier, "Would you mind turning down the thermostat?!"

The next twenty minutes passed like thirty, and his suspicions were correct that every minute was another degree Fahrenheit.

It was 80 degrees by this point; enough that he would be sweating in his ordinary combat uniform alone. Under the thick wool and polyester layers? Aaron was losing his mind.

Every time he moved he flexed every muscle as far as it would go and somehow further, only to move and inch on the sturdy gurney frame. He could feel the sweat pooling along his back accumulate and accumulate, while his vision grew lighter.

"HellllLO?!" he cried again. 90 degrees Fahrenheit. He would be sweating in a t-shirt. "Can someone please crack a door open???"

Why did they gag me? he suddenly thought, sure as fuck wanted to after that trip...

THUD

Something above Aaron clanged. It sounded metallic, and it didn't take much to knock him off his guard in his sweat-soaked delirium. The cold air that smacked him in the face took him by surprise.

80 degrees. 60. 40. He began to shiver.

Shivering in the sleepsack was an uncomfortable experience, as whenever he twitched the sweat, now freezing cold as well, would slide around and drag his prison around; sticking in unfortunate nooks.

"Ohhh-huuuuuuhhhhh" Aaron tried to retort, only to find the air pulled from his lungs. He could still hardly breathe.

A few minutes later, whatever door to the outside had been opened slammed back shut.

"Are we done yet?" There was no response.

For the next four hours Aaron was put through the same cycle of unbearable heat and impossible cold. With every revolution he could feel himself getting weaker. On the fourth he could no longer raise his head. But the shivering continued, and the sweating continued.

But at the end of the four hours, he found there were many worse things.

~*~

In spite of their orders, the guards lugging Ethan to the prisoner tents had very different plans in mind for their new dark-haired POW. He was built heavier than the songbird and filled out his jacket, and trousers, in exciting ways. They figured no one would miss him.

Luckily, no one caught them on their way to the Private's quarters. The shorter of the two unlocked the door while the other held up their weary prey. For excellence in strategy and combat, the Private was given a promotion; for service to Isaac, he was given a small, private lodging rather than another bunk with his cohort. The space was small and cold after a whole day away, but they had plans to warm it up.

"There's been a little change of plans, pidor" said the private. Ethan, who had been dropped on the floor as soon as they entered the trailer, squirmed on the floor to face him. He and Aaron were given a mission, and he intended to stick to it.

"What, you are not curious?" This came from the taller soldier. He was dressed down, and had clearly not been prepared for this. After a few moments of silence, the Private glanced back at him.

"No, I think he is. Problem is he follows orders," the man squatted next to Ethan's face. Leaning back on the bed-frame behind him, he stuck one of his boots under the captive's chin. "Of course, it is not always bad to have a slave who follows orders."

"Fuck you." The first words Ethan had spoken since he saw the enemy scouts on the horizon, only two hours ago now. His normally reedy-voice was graveled by the cold. Looking up into the face of the Private, with his wrists tied behind his back and legs spread, he spit.

The saliva caught the cocksure officer just under his right eye. The trailer went silent.



The Private's aide clamped a hand over Ethan's shoulder and forcibly turned him around to face him. "You see, that was a mistake," Ethan could here the Private stirring behind him, getting off the bed and opening a drawer, "now, not only, is he going to fuck you; he is going to fuck to kill."

Two Weeks Prior
"Private Aaron Dale has formally requested that you accompany him on his mission, citing your physical aptitude and knowledge of the terrain."

Ethan knew the meeting with the Colonel would have something to do with that fucker. Soldier Aaron Dale had been mouthing off ever since Ethan was promoted, and when he got what was coming to him, Ethan knew he wouldn't keep quiet for very long.

"Sir I believe there has been a mistake. Aaron Dale is a soldier in-"

"We are all soldiers, Private." The Colonel was not masking his frustration with Ethan's indirect refusal.

"Yes, sir. Sir, I respectfully deny the Private's request."

The senior officer leaned back in his chair, relaxing his arms as well, "and what makes you think you can?"

There was an insinuation in his voice that made Ethan's neck shiver.

"Because, sir, we are equal in rank. He cannot command me to accept, and neither you nor my captain handed down this order. Aaron Dale has been promoted to private, sir?"

"Correct. He is a private. In light of the mission, we gave him your title. Private Dale suggested we give you the opportunity to graciously accept his command. As you have not, I am afraid I have the honor of informing you that you will be aiding Private Dale on his mission. He will brief you tomorrow, 0800 hours, and you will embark within the hour."

~*~
Aaron was barely conscious when the door above him closed for the last time, and when the door into the room opened only a few second later. His body was so dehydrated from sweat and weak from shivering that he couldn't find the strength to look up. There was no pain, per se, not numb. He could feel every muscle and every inch of himself, he just couldn't move.

The same guard from earlier undid the straps and pulled back the neoprene sheet that Aaron had been mummified in. Sweat found concave paths and poured onto the floor. The man left the room and two soldiers took his place. The first shoved a black hood over Aaron's head, similar to the one he had been forced to wear earlier, only this one was much tighter. Rather than a rubber sack, this was a proper hood that tightly hugged his sweat-matted hair to his skull. His mouth and nose were left open. Not seeing any way this could get worse (Aaron was a millennial, death was never a worse option) he started to sing.

"ooooh saaey, can youu see..." the private numbly whispered, blinded by the hood. He felt himself being dragged, but with no sense of direction and little wherewithal, he sang on.

He felt the rough hands of the soldiers release his shoulders, dropping him onto a rough surface. His wrists and neck were slotted into niches, and with the material against his bare skin, he guessed it was wood. Polished and well maintained, but still coarse. He couldn't lift his body to save his life, but just for good measure, the guards secured the other half of the board over him.

His ankles were pulled into a similar device that they had used on him earlier, but worse. Now, rather than two feet, his legs were pulled as far as they could go. As the soldiers stretched them apart, his tone grew higher, and higher.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

Boundcurious wrote: 4 years ago I’m normally behind on stories and don’t have to wait for “next instalments”. Please don’t keep me waiting long!!
Thanks for the feedback! I apologize in advance, my posting isn't terribly consistent. But I'm working on it!
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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that1kid13 wrote: 4 years ago Aghhh I love anything Military/war style . I’m already hooked keep going
Yeah! I noticed there wasn't a lot of it and it feels like a good genre to pull from. Lots of tension...
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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-Fire Away-
Part 1


Isaac strolled hurriedly to the podium in a combination of anticipation and discomfort. The speech to the prisoners, and subsequent presentation, would be the highlight of his week. The cold, less so.

One of the two prisoners, his songbird, was already waiting for him. The other wasn't explicitly required, but it still disappointed him that he would have to wait longer for the one he desired more. The typical prisoners, some 80 men and women they had captured during the numerous failed incursions, extractions, and surveillance missions, stood waiting before the slightly raised platform.

"Good evening. This will not take long, and you will be able to return to your tents shortly," Isaac did not personally care if the prisoners were to stand out in the Alaskan cold for another hour or two; he had things to do. "You are all here because your country refuses to negotiate an exchange, and because it was reckless enough to send you to us in the first place. In the coming week, we will send to other camps. It will be cold too there.

However, while you are here, you will do as you are told. You have failed your missions, you have neglected your orders. You are here, of course." Isaac strode to the stocks where the still singing enemy spy was being held. "This man," with one hand he began to unfasten the zipper hold his head in the hood, "this man failed his mission too. But you see, he has failed his new mission. We gave him orders, to shut up. To close his pathetic mouth. Now, I am afraid," he pulled the hood off, unleashing a small burst of the soldier's too-long blond hair that fell to just about his eyes, "you will all have to witness his punishment."

One of the several guards stepped forwards and pulled out a metal spider-gag and, just as the singer reached his crescendo, pulled it back into his mouth. At the same time, another guard stepped up with a braided leather coil that dissolved at the end into a small forest of lashes, and forced the singer's winter pants down.

"Braaaaaaaa-aeg-aaaaeeehhhhhh"

Isaac wasted no time. He had deliberately not worn a belt to today's events, and in a matter of seconds had his already hard-member in his hands. There was a single sweet moment of horror in the singer's eyes before all seven inches plunged into his mouth. It was a tight fit, the ring gag had to be borrowed from HT as no formal request could be put in to get him his own, but it worked.

After that first thrust Isaac held Aaron's head there, reveling in the pitiful, wet spluttering that he had reduced the singer to at last, before pulling out all but the head. What Aaron didn't realize, as most of the straight prisoners sent to HT didn't, was that trying to push a cock out of your mouth with your tongue was as effective as trying to bite through stainless steel. A vibration of ecstasy pulsed through the throbbing veins he had just exposed by pulling out as Aaron continued to push his tongue against Isaac's head.

Then back in, not so far this time, and out. And in, and out. Trapped in the stocks and unable to move after the thorough heat shock, Aaron couldn't resist as Isaac fucked his skull. The crowd was jeering, gasping, screaming; but neither of the two could hear it over their own noises. Every time Isaac pulled back from a thrust, Aaron tried to scream only to find the thick, meaty gag drown his pleas.

After a few moments of this, the whipping began. The benefits of heat shock, as Isaac had predicted when their trials began, was that it wouldn't deprive the subjects of their sense; just their motor control. Most paralytics took both, but by dehydrating and exhausting the muscles and not the nerves, they were left with an immobile sub who could feel every lick they deserved to take.

The first time the whip cracked, Aaron began to choke. Isaac's cock was as deep into his throat as he would let himself get when the braided leather burned his exposed ass, and his sudden gasp caused him to suck in not only his own saliva, but Isaac's sweat and precum. Reflexively, and under no control of his own, he spasmed and bucked. His tormentor noticed, and paused with the head of his penis still resting between Aaron's propped-open lips.

The whipping, however, did not stop.

CRACK CRACK CRACK

Aaron could feel his pale ass redden with each strike. He continued to cough and splutter until his lungs were safe again but Isaac continued to hold the head of his dick just on the tip of his mouth. The whipping continued, and even though the soldiers hadn't pulled his boxer-briefs down, he was sure the red welts were showing through. Each strike was more fire, more red.

Until finally, the soldier with the whip lowered his strike ever-so-slightly. The shock of the lashes against the virgin skin on the back of his thighs sent Aaron's eyes into tunnel vision, until all he could see was the shaft beginning in Isaac's bush and ending in his own mouth, then darkness.

Isaac pulled his cock fully out of Aaron's mouth, hardly near finishing, and buttoned his pants back up. The soldier with the whip retreated back to his position, leaving the perfectly-limp captive's red ass out in the cold air.

"If any of you has the courage to join your cohort in song, you will join him in punishment," and Isaac stepped off the podium; walking briskly back to his quarters to finish what he had started.
~*~
Four Hours Earlier

The taller soldier, who Ethan's noted did not wear the same status as the Private, lifted him to his feet while turning him to face the Private. Once Aaron was on his feet but still hunched over, the man reached down with his other hand, grabbed Ethan by the crotch, and hoisted upwards. For a brief moment, Ethan was pulled off the ground by solely his cock and balls, until he was able to react and threw his head back.

The headbutt caught the soldier by surprise, knocking him against the back wall of the trailer and dazing him. The Private was also taken aback, giving Ethan enough time to dive forward, shoulder-checking his shorter captor to the ground. The coil of rope he was unrolling fell to the ground with him and slid somewhere under the bed.

"Bitch! Faggot, you have already lost your life!" the soldier behind him roared. Ethan was proud of the effort, but very quickly realized all he had done was stun his two assailants. He couldn't leave, and they were still flanking them when the effect wore off.

The Private reached behind his head and rubbed where he must have impacted the floor. No blood, but a minor bruise. He looked back to Ethan, who stood over him, legs still spread by the bar he was captured with, and got to his feet.

"Have you ever been fucked, faggot?" he asked in a superficially calm voice.

"I was fucked when they sent me on this mission." Ethan retorted. Like the man behind him said, he had already lost his life.

He heard the man get back up, so when he was shoved forward onto the bed he was expecting it. The sheets were softer than his own, but not soft. Immediately, he felt the weight of the Private crushing his wrists into the small of his back. Then the weight spread out, as the enemy officer sprawled himself across Ethan. His right arm reached around and up, trailing over Ethan's defined pec before attempting to hand-gag him. The left reached for his crotch, but not before teeth clamped down on his right fingers.

"AAHHHH, FUCK!" The Private recoiled, but his teeth were held in the vice grip of Ethan's jaw. He continued to clench until he felt blood pulse into his mouth, then released. He was a dead man, but he didn't want to find out what they would take if he took their digits.

"Fine then, FINE! You aren't a cocksucker, are you bitch? Just a whore? Just a slut in need of a good fucking?"

While the Private degraded and objectified Ethan, all the while tending to his hand, the soldier took Ethan's key and unlocked the handcuffs, then the leg irons with his own key. Ethan was done fighting. He had made them bleed.

With a less resistant captive, the enemy soldier easily locked his wrists into the cuffs hidden at the head of the bed. The design was classically American, but the materials were brutally Russian; rough leather and solid steel.

Going back to the drawer, the soldier got another two lengths of rope and quickly brought Ethan's ankles up, bending his knees just beyond 90 degrees, and fastening the ropes to two hooks set just above the headboard. Ethan lay facedown on the bed, wrists locked into the headboard and legs pulled open. But for the time being, he was left ungagged.

In silence, the soldier shredded his clothes with a combat knife. All that was left at the end of his barrage were his boots, socks, boxers, and tank top. In another setting, he'd consider the outfit one of his sexiest.

There was muffled chatter between the two enemy men, in a language Ethan vaguely knew. The soldier would come back in an hour. The door opened and closed again, and he was left alone with his captor.
Last edited by Gaggedwriter 4 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Boundcurious »

Gaggedwriter wrote: 4 years ago
Boundcurious wrote: 4 years ago I’m normally behind on stories and don’t have to wait for “next instalments”. Please don’t keep me waiting long!!
Thanks for the feedback! I apologize in advance, my posting isn't terribly consistent. But I'm working on it!
Well it certainly came quickly (the next instalments), and a better style than I could manage. I salute you!
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-Fire Away-
Part 2


"You are very fit for an American," the Private purred against Ethan's ear in the low, rumbling Russian accent. "It is rare we get soldiers with your, body."

A hand ran along Ethan's bulging calf muscle. Like Aaron, he was a runner; only a little more. He captained the weightlifting team in high school, and he had to set an example if he didn't want his teammates skipping leg day.

The foreign hand brushed upwards and tightened as it went. The Private gently caught his thigh and felt its give before reaching the hostage's muscular ass and clenching down. Under the red and black fabric of the boxers, he felt it tense and Ethan gasp in response to the sudden force.

"What? Do you like that? Or have you never been grabbed like that before?"

"Are all Russians faggots?"

"Oh, you do wish..." he let his suggestion trail off as he slowly slid his hand under the tied up soldier's boxers. The same muscular ass met him. He experimentally ran a finger down along its bulbous curve, down, down, until he found a smooth, hairless crevice. The Private smiled to himself; less work for him.

"Are you going to fuck me or what, you piece of shit pervert?" His new toy was so energetic and so eager, but something had to be done about that mouth of his...

"You and your partner, you must have gotten along very well," the Private remarked. He pulled away from the other man's ass and with both hands began to untie the soldier's left boot. "Best friends. We used to chug beer and drive monster trucks together before we enlisted. We wanted to fight you as a team, you know?" Sarcasm. As if the Private had any more remorse to lose about his current plans.

"What I meant is that you both are mouthy," the Private finished the knot and slid the standardized-brown boot off to reveal a similarly standard grey sock. After what must have been a long day of work, then the fear of being caught, then the chase, the Private could already smell the soldier's sweat, "Dr. Polov, you will probably meet him, he has very different plans for your friend's mouth. I prefer you get a, taste, of your own filth," he savored every letter of the word taste.

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, make me suck my o-AAAA! AGGHMMMMMMM!" finally, just as Ethan tried to come back at him, the Private stripped his sock off his damp foot and leapt onto him. He shoved the sock into his mouth and quickly picked up a roll of tape he had dropped earlier. The captured and bound soldier bucked under him to no avail as he wrapped one, two, four, six, ten times around his mouth then under his chin. By the time he was finished, Ethan's only options were a barely audible "mmm" or to scream and burn out his throat.

"Suck on your filth, you American cockwhore."


Two Weeks Earlier
Aaron was stuffing a coil of rope into his tactical bag when Ethan got to his barracks. Rather than disturb him, he watched the newly-promoted private. Older than him by a few months, but he looked so much younger. He was certainly lither; a swimmer's body to Ethan's football physique. As the war went on, the army loosened enough constraints to keep people happy, one of the first being hair. As much as he hated him, Ethan admired how Aaron's blond fringe fell across his forehead.

That was enough of that.

"Dale!" Ethan called, walking into the barracks so stiffly he may as well been marching.

"Have you packed?" was his response. Have you packed? As if nothing were wrong.

"Are you out of your goddamned mind, you piece of shit? First you disrespect me, then you respond to your deserved punishment with this stunt!"

"Ethan, this isn't a stunt. This is a mission, and I needed another runner."

"I am not a runner-"

"You caught me."

Silence.


Aaron resumed his packing.

"I suggest you pack light and wear heavy. It's a lot of ground and not a lot of time."

~*~


An added downside of the sheer magnitude of tape Ethan had been gagged with was the pressure. By forcing his jaw shut, the Private had clenched the sock like a sponge, and not it was leaking sweat, among other things, into his prisoner's mouth.

"Sexy American soldier all bound and gagged," the Private began narrating as if he were a 50s news reporter, "What do you think? Sexy? You need to speak up, I can not hear you over the smell of your disgusting capitalist feet." There was a whistling sound before, CRACK, something snapped against the sole of his bare foot.

"But what comes next? How about, Trapped beneath the boots of the evil communists! Ah, that is an idea!"

Ethan heard the Private kneel down on the floor next to the bed, before the faint sound of laces being undone. He had no time to prepare himself before the Private's own boot, not his own, was held to his nose. The stench was bad, but, at least for a brief period of time, he was a private in his own right, and there had been much worse.

"mmmMMMMMmmMMM MMM mmmM" ...of course he couldn't express that sentiment.

"Oh, you don't like it? You prefer the boots of your own slaves? Well too bad, sockcucker," and another 10 layers of duct tape were applied, securing the muddy Russian boot over Ethan's already sockgagged face.

A belt clanked and came undone. Heavy pants fell to the floor. A shirt came off. Ethan could only guess what some of the sounds were.

Then something else joined the bed with him. The Private knelt between Ethan's spread legs, and gripped his boxers.

RIIIP

Cool air, then almost immediately afterwards, a thick, cold gel touched Ethan's bare ass.

The Private's finger reached down again, spreading the lube across his smooth hole. The friction and the cool combined were, so, erotic.

"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"

"So you do like that? Then why don't I skip the appetizer?"

The finger pulled away and something much broader entered the space. The Private's head slipped over his hole once, twice, before he caught it and pressed. Just a foothold, but the expansion sent a shock of pleasure through Ethan's bound body. The Private straightened himself on the bed, and steadied himself on Ethan's ankles.

Then, gently, he slid the rest of the head in. Ethan knew from experience he was only being gentle to lessen the stress on his own cock, and that this would all be over sooner if he just opened up, but he refused. Still, having his asshole forcibly open was electrifying, and he moaned more into his sock.

Once the head was in, the Private showed no mercy. The rest of his shaft followed in one progressively less pleasurable, more painful thrust. By the end, the lube was running out and the friction burned like physical flames licking the rim of Ethan's ass.

The Private felt it too, and after applying more lube he ground further into his prisoner's ass. Ball's deep as he was, he crushed further and flexed his cock, expanding it slightly from the inside. Ethan groaned.

Then the thrusting began with one sudden thrust. The speed of him pulling his dick out of Ethan's ass caused the bound and gagged POW to inhale with what would have been a yelp; filling both his mouth and nose with foot sweat from both sides of the war.

In and out, the Private continued to mercilessly fuck Ethan. The only thing that kept him sane and that kept him from moaning and subjecting himself to more of the Russian's disgusting foot odor was counting. The rhythm helped.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8


Around the 25th thrust, the Private slipped up. He had been deliberate, and precise, so as to not nudge his bitch's prostate. Denial is what the whore deserved. But in his own ecstasy driven frenzy he leaned forwards, grabbing the American around the chest, and drove in.

Warmth and pleasure flooded Ethan's body, and the Private felt his body relax slightly. This did not stop him.

Another fifteen pumps and he began to speed up, losing his rhythm and driving purely for pleasure. Ethan had been hard since the soldier strip his clothes off of him, but was far from release.

1,2,3,4,5-

"aaaAAAAGH!" the Private ejaculated. He thrust himself down one final time, his cock impacting Ethan's prostate and driving further and further as he was crushed into the bed. The Private was out of breath, and as much as Ethan hated the Russian foot odor, he was too.

A minute passed. Then another. The Private still clung limply to his body, his member disappointingly flaccid, after five minutes, at which time he finally lifted himself off of Ethan's muscular body.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

Boundcurious wrote: 4 years ago Well it certainly came quickly (the next instalments), and a better style than I could manage. I salute you!
It comes in waves, I think you'll like Part 2
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by Boundcurious »

Gaggedwriter wrote: 4 years ago
Boundcurious wrote: 4 years ago Well it certainly came quickly (the next instalments), and a better style than I could manage. I salute you!
It comes in waves, I think you'll like Part 2
Oh I certainly did, thanks! I confess I’m not a big fan of sock gags (if I may say that on this forum haha) but really enjoy your style. I’m certainly feeling like I’m there, living the experience... :D
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Post by NeedControl »

Oh man, I'm really enjoying your varying style, different points of view, torture but not "too much", Ethan's attempts to deny himself the twisted pleasure of the moment, and all the rest!

What will come next? I'm sure excited to find out!! 🤩
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Collateral-

Thirteen Days Earlier

Ethan was surprised at how well of a team he and Aaron made. The younger, cockier soldier could be relied upon to keep the necessary breakneck pace, while Ethan was allowed to simply follow and make sure his commanding officer didn't drop anything.

Commanding officer, Ethan thought to himself in a mocking tone.

At the end of an incredibly productive day, and with nearly 20 miles gone, the duo set up camp under the boughs of the largest tree they could find. By the time they were done, all that was visible was a pile of sticks and leaves under the tree that had dropped them. But underneath, in the small 2-person tent, were Aaron and Ethan, their small heater, and a lantern.

The silence was unbearable.

"I'm sorry." Ethan's sudden apology caught Aaron off guard as he went to warm his MRE on the heater.

"You're, sorry?"

"Yes. I owe you an apology."

Aaron leaned back into his side of the tent, causing it to lean towards the tree, "Shut up, Ethan. You don't owe me shit."

"Whatever you say, sir" Ethan mocked. He was trying to do a nice thing and this was how Aaron responded? Fuck that guy.

"Do NOT call me sir. This is a meaningless field promotion so I could formally lead the mission."

"Meaningless field promotion? Meaningless?!?" Ethan wasn't even sure where his anger was coming from at this point, but damn was he angry.

As the two soldiers stared eachother down from opposite ends of the small tent, the light between them almost seemed to shift with their intensity. Each caught in the eyes of the other, focusing all of their pent-up frustration into trying to get the other to submit, their eyes narrowed and their perception of the light grew dimmer. All Aaron could see were Ethan's pale grey irises. His eyes were far dimmer than Aaron's, but his hatred was far more immense.

Finally, Aaron dropped the competition. His food was getting too hot.

Ethan hadn't realized he was holding his breath through the entire affair and quickly regained his composure. Seeing Aaron was anything but interested, he began to strip for bed. When he was done, he matched Aaron in everything but the underwear they wore under their thermals. There was no visible outline for Ethan, the boxers were a too diffuse material to show up, but the discreet outline of Aaron's boxer-briefs caught his attention. Aaron noticed.

"We should turn in. If we want to hit 30 miles tomorrow we need to be up by 5."

Without another word, Aaron nestled into his sleeping bag. It was a light bag, designed to roll as flat as possible, but nonetheless the down and polyester was comforting. What wasn't, was the smell coming from just outside the bag. Ethan, who was oriented the reverse of Aaron so that either one of them would be facing any attacks directly, had taken off his boots and set them right by Aaron's head.

And suddenly Aaron had an idea.
~*~


The Private pulled himself away from Ethan's tense, charged body about five minutes after burying his load deep in the enemy soldier's ass. The American had not cum, he was certain of that, and the idea of being able to abuse him over and over without ever allowing him a chance at release was electrifying.

He groaned and mumbled a compliment to the young man's fortitude under his breath (not many prisoners had gone without passing out during their, orientation). He then went into the bathroom, the only other room in the trailer, to wash himself. While he showered, he considered.

That American was the most fun he had had in ages, and there was no way he was going to leave it at that. He wanted more. It wasn't unheard of for people in his position to have assistants from the other side; captured enemy soldiers who indentured themselves and worked directly for an officer in exchange for slightly better conditions. That was more or less the arrangement he had with the soldier who had helped him drag Ethan to the trailer in the first place...

The hot water gave out part-way through the shower; just as he felt his thoughts getting clouded by the desire to see how the faggot's mouth felt. In a cruel twist of fate, the cold water helped him focus at the expense of what was shaping up to be a pleasurable fantasy.

"Suka, blyad” he cursed. For a second he could have sword he heard his new plaything laughing from the main room but that was impossible...


In reality, Ethan had heard the entire interaction. Blinded by the boot so close to his face and completely immobilized by the ropes, there wasn't a whole lot for him to do but listen. The sound of the water heater getting overworked, then flipping off, then the familiar string of curse words. He didn't dare laugh, though.

A few minutes later he heard the door behind him open and the Private stepped back out of the bathroom.

"I have a proposition for you."

Ethan didn't respond.

"Ah, still being a bitch. Okay." There was a rustling noise as the Private opened one of the drawers in the desk by the door that led outside. Then a weight rested on the side of the bed.

"Do you want to behave?"

1... 2... 3... 4... 5-

SLAP

The Private's hand came down hard across Ethan's ass. Yet, somehow, Ethan imagined getting spanked would be more painful. He still refused to respond, and another 5 seconds later the hand came down again. Still not all that painful.

"Fine. You want it the hard way. I understand," the Private mused. Ethan felt the weight move, and the tension on the ropes tying his legs up in the air relaxed. His legs, not even bound to eachother, were now totally free. In spite of this, he let them fall on the bed without issue or trying anything.

"I will ask one more time. Do you want to behave?" There was no time this go around as immediately after the words came out of the Russian's mouth, Ethan felt his hand once more spanking his bare ass. This time, though, it hit above this ass, more towards the base of the spine. He arched his back and tugged against the headboard but could not ease the pain.

"Maybe, if I let you speak, you will answer?" The slap came, and by this point, Ethan was done with fighting it. In defeat, he nodded his head.

Something thin and metal grazed his cheek, and in three fluid tugs, the Private ripped both the duct tape holding the sock in his mouth and the duct tape holding the boot over his face away. He wasn't exactly proud of the tearstains on the fabric of the Russian's boot...

"You can speak?"

"Yes."

"You can speak Russian?"

"Nemnogo." A little

"Then we should not dress you up as Russian and say you are just a dumb soldier," the Private replied, half-jokingly and half-disappointed he didn't get to follow through with that plan.

"Please let me go now. I won't tell anyone," Ethan pleaded. Being so brutally spanked had bruised his pride about as much as it bruised his ass, somehow more than getting fucked did. It was a sign of dominance, and it had all but broken him.

"No no no, I have another idea, do not worry. You do not want to join the rest of the prisoners. Bad things will happen to you if you go there. The guards there, they do not have lubricant. Even if they don't fuck you, which would be a missed opportunity, you will be shipped back across the strait in a week. You Americans like to make joke about gulag. But gulag makes better joke out of Americans."

"What do you want from me...?" Ethan couldn't help but try again to pull against the cuffs in the headboard. No budge.

"I you to be my American faggot. You have been fucked before, I know. You enjoyed it that time and this time," a total bluff, but by the look on Ethan's face, he was right. "I will use your ass. I will use your mouth. You will keep this clean and will do other chores. You will stay with me."

"...You sick fuck."

"If that is a no, I will be more than happy to put you on next boat. But that would be wasteful. I can help you."

Ethan was silent for a long time. Long enough that the Private went about on his own business while he was left to consider. For the first time, Ethan was allowed a decent look at the man as he watched. He was shorter than Ethan, shorter than Aaron probably, and not incredibly muscular. A similar buzzcut to Ethan's own was neatly trimmed across his head, but he had none of Ethan's facial hair.

Did he want to be this man's slave? Did he believe what he said about his other options?

The Private was just getting ready to go to the public humiliation of Isaac's songbird when Ethan finally gave his answer. The Russian nodded once, and closed the door behind him, leaving Ethan bound to his bed.

"Well," he began to grin against the cold Alaskan air, "that worked."


Twelve Days Earlier

Ethan woke up in a cold sweat, but he didn't know why. The outside was still dark around the tent, but the rising sun began to paint one side of it a faint red. Not a terribly good sign for the day's weather-

Before he could reflect on his meteorological knowledge more, he realized what had woken him up. He couldn't move. The sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead grew and ran in rivulets as he thrashed from side to side in his sleeping bag, but he could aside from throwing his entire body from side to side, he could not move.

"Hey?! HEY!? HEY!!!"

The zippered entrance to the tent flew open not a second after he started screaming and in a moment Aaron was on top of him. Still undressed, or as undressed as it was safe to be this far north, his thermals had been pulled down to reveal his black boxer-briefs. The whole bundle sat maybe a foot away from his face with Aaron straddling his chest.

"Aaron!? What the fuck!?!?" he didn't shout, now they he knew he wasn't alone, but the fury in his voice was still as palpable as always.

"Hey- no-wait, hey, Hey!" Aaron commanded as Ethan tried to buck him off of himself.

"Hey!" he slapped him. Ethan very suddenly stopped squirming and looked up at Aaron in shock.

"You fucked with me," Aaron reached behind him to grab something, "and now you're getting what you deserve."
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Post by Gaggedwriter »

-Operation HT-

Aaron woke up in the same cell he had been left in earlier. He was on the same gurney, facing the same heavy steel door. The metal chair was still in the corner. The only difference was the harsh, uncovered LED lightbulb hanging over the center of the room that illuminated it.

Also, he was free.

The first thing he felt, once he had taken in his surroundings, was the simultaneous pain in his ass and his jaw. Just sitting down on what was a remarkably soft mattress was enough to cause his bruises to sting, and he had to hold his jaw while flexing it to keep him from hurting himself.

But, the pain passed. Rotating, opening, closing his jaw, he found that he could bypass the soreness easily, and the mattress was really comfortable...

He spent the next hour lounging. A strange reprieve, from what exactly he couldn't remember, but a strange reprieve nonetheless.

When the door opened, he was not surprised to see the tall man. Dr. Isaac Menges was printed under what was probably the same name just in different characters.

"Hello, Private Aaron Dale," his pronunciation of the name wasn't wrong, just aggressive. "Unfortunately, you are our lucky winner. There was an opening in our HT program just before we found you. That was, four? Four days ago. I opted to keep the slot open for you-"

"Listen, that's all very generous of you Mr. Menges, but can you cut the chatter and gulag me, already?"

"Eager? Interesting," Isaac gave a command to two guards that had been waiting outside and immediately Aaron was being hauled off the gurney. His hands were cuffed in front of him and a leather belt like the ones he had been tied to the gurney with earlier was wrapped around his torso.

"You know, I thought the Germans were supposed to be the kin-" one of the guards pulled something under Aaron's chin, interrupting his thought. The contraption was made of several leather straps and sheets that locked together over his face and skull, clamping his jaw shut like

Like a muzzle.

"Yes, you are right, Énekes! The Germans are very kind!" Isaac left the room and walked down the hallway, towards a closed set of doors at the end. One of the guards who had secured Aaron went ahead and swiped a card, unlocking them and revealing behind them a staircase leading down. In front of Aaron, who was still being forcibly directed by the second guard, Isaac began to whistle an off-key melody that sounded vaguely like the Pledge of Allegiance.

The stairs ended in a landing, then a second flight, a third, a fourth. From what intel Aaron and Ethan had gotten, this structure was built on the old bones of a US outpost from the 50s. He guessed this was where the bunker had been.

Finally, the stairs ended before a second set of double doors, which the guard unlocked with his card. This hallway mirrored the hallway upstairs, with three doors on either side before a plastic curtain at the end. Aaron could hear behind the first doors a rhythmic whirring. It sounded like some kind of small motor undulating in pitch. As they passed between the first doors, he could have sworn he heard someone moaning from his right.

The second door on the right had the same whirring noise, while the one on the left was silent. Beyond that one, the final door on the left was open.

Before they got to it, the guard forced Aaron to stop where he stood. The muzzle was removed, and in its place a black cloth band was wrapped over his eyes.

"You may be wondering, "why have you brought me here? Is it not enough to torture me upstairs-""

"-I wasn't, but go on."

"-To which I say, it is much harder to tell what is going on this far underground. This bunker was designed to keep out radiation, and that works both ways! The prying eyes of your countrymen cannot see this deep. Cannot see, what is going to happen to you."

Isaac stepped into the room and Aaron was forced to follow. He walked forward, then turned, and was maneuvered so he faced the way they had come in from. Then nothing. He was still being held, just in place.

"What do you think HT means, Énekes?" Isaac asked.

This is a trap, said every fiber of Aaron's being.

Such a bold-faced fucking trap

"Let me guess, heat torture?"

"Torture, torture is correct," Isaac chuckled, "but not heat."

Aaron felt someone behind him grab him by the waist and tug. His pants fell to his ankles, exposing his thermals.

"What the fuck? Hangman? Hangman torture? Do I just have to keep guessing until I'm buck naked for all you perverts to jerk off to?"

"Not hangman, no. Although we could do that."

One of Aaron's legs was lifted and his boot quickly and efficiently untied and pulled off. Then the sock. They repeated the process on the second foot and his pants were pulled completely off.

"Hair torture? Are you gonna pull the hair out of my legs?"

"Incorrect."

Aaron realized his undressing wasn't tied to his guesses when he was interrupted part-way through his next guess by the soldiers releasing his handcuffs and belt, then removing his jacket.

"I have to say, Énekes, you look very good in all black. But I am afraid, for our homosexual torture to work effectively, you need less layers."

The audacity of what Aaron had just heard stunned him completely. Enough so that he was stripped, finally, to just his tight-as-fuck boxer briefs. Then the blindfold was removed.

Directly in front of Aaron, between him and the door, was a soldier he recognized. He had been part of the mission two before his own. MIA, now confirmed POW. His feet were cuffed together in a single restraint similar to the ones used to immobolize Ethan and Aaron, only instead of separating his legs it locked them painfully close together, then the whole brace was chained to the floor. Another chain, looped over a pulley hanging from the ceiling, vanished somewhere behind him. The other end hung in front of him, right around Aaron's groin, and ended in a hook capped with a metal ball.

"No, no, please, you siCK FUCK!" Aaron was grabbed by both shoulders and brought to stand immediately in front of his ally. Both were stripped to just their underwear, neither were gagged or blindfolded, and from the look on his partner's face, Aaron could tell this wasn't his first time.

Aaron continued to scream and sling curses while the guards set to work securing the two together. First Aaron's ankles were clamped together, then chained to hooks in the floor.

After that, one of the guards physically held Aaron's arms crossed in front of him while the other did the unthinkable. He pulled the hook of Aaron's side down, causing visible distress in the other American soldier, and slipped it under Aaron's boxer briefs. He nudged it around Aaron's asscrack before finding his hole, and forced the bulbous metal head inside.

Aaron had never been penetrated before. The feeling of his asshole expanding to let the small metal ball in was excruciating, and alien. He felt invaded, violated. Then it kept going further and further in until the bend of the hook caught the top of his asshole. The ball, two inches deep inside of him, felt impossibly heavy and large. He could feel it inside of him; and Aaron stopped his protests.

It was over.

He slumped forwards, causing the bulb to move around and adding to his discomfort, and set his head in against the other soldier's shoulder.

Once the hook was secure and the chain was rebalanced, one guard took Aaron's relenting hands and pulled them around the other soldier; hugging him. As he did so, the other guard mirrored with the soldier's hands. Aaron felt him as he was forced to cup his ass. A large leather strip was brought from somewhere behind them, one with holes and notches designed specifically for their situation. As it was fastened around them, they were pulled closer and closer together until their hips crushed against one another. Aaron noticed but didn't register that both him and the other soldier were rock hard.

Finally, after three more strips were added to tie their torsos and chests together, one guard grabbed each of their jaws.

"You were not expecting this?" Isaac asked, but he was too far away to answer.

The guard grabbing Aaron's jaw clenched his fist and forced him to open his mouth. His face was moved forwards until his lips met those of his fellow soldier. Both of their heads at an angle, he tried to readjust before they were tied together like this, but there was no escaping it. The final leather strap was wrapped around their heads; forcing them to make out in a horrible mockery of a kiss.

"Welcome to the first trial of Homosexual Torture, Énekes. We will be back to check on you tomorrow."

Isaac and the guards left.

The door slammed shut.

And Aaron was left, ass penetrated by a blunt metal hook, with another soldier's tongue trapped in his mouth.
More gagged than writing, but only time will tell.
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Post by NeedControl »

So very interesting... I have no idea where this is going, but I'm looking forward to it!
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Post by george_bound »

Oh wow, this last part is absolutely amazing! I have a huge fetish for two guys bound together with their bodies tightly pressed against each other... on top of that you have predicament bondage whereby if one moves, the other's ass is impacted. So hot! Looking forward to seeing how well they endure and what happens to them next :P
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