Date: Sat, 26 Jun 2010 03:00:13 -0400
From: oldtimer25@gmail.com
Subject: The Alley

This all happened twenty years ago. I first saw the punk on his knees in
the back room at a local gay bar. As soon as I looked at him, I knew he was
a fucking Marine - no one wears their hair cut like that but jarheads. I
saw an obviously brand new "Semper Fi" tattoo on his forearm which
confirmed it, since I have one just like it. I didn't need the buzz-cut or
the tattoo to tell me he was a fucking leatherneck. After ten years in the
Corps, I knew he was a Marine just by how he held his back straight. If I
had seen him at the bar, I would have ordered him to come home with me.
(Young leathernecks love being ordered around by officers.) I'm a cop, and
the fags in this bar are used to my being in there in uniform, since I get
off on having my muscular, hairy body and hard, fat cock worshipped by a
punk I "arrested" and handcuffed. He was just the kind of hot punk I like
breaking down and then fuck raw - muscular, almost hairless, high ass and
fat cock, with big, low hanging balls that begged to be tortured.

But this little bastard made me fucking sick. The same blond punk was on
his knees, stark naked and built like that brick shit house they always
talk about, and sucking ANY cock shoved in his fucking face. Now I'm no
prude. Like a lot of Marines, I was gang banged a few times by brother
Marines, and I gang fucked my share of leathernecks, too. I've also had
lots of hot, rugged, one-on-one sex with fellow jarheads. In civilian life,
I've spent a quite few hours on my knees in the toilet of a leather bar,
sucking tough men off. I have stood tall in the same toilet, legs spread
wide, fucking the throats and asses of truly tough men. But I only service
REAL fucking men - masculine tough men who can take care of themselves in a
fight. He was servicing some of the nelliest fucking queens in the place! A
real man - a fucking MARINE - should have more pride than that. Then the
most effeminate fairy in the place actually ORDERED him up against the
wall. The little faggot GIGGLED while he was ordering a fucking MARINE
around! The queen slapped that hard Marine-built butt and rammed a
surprisingly large cock in the jarhead's high, beautiful ass. The fucking
punk groaned and moaned like a gawddamned bitch whore in heat as that
faggot fucked his ass, then the jarhead shot a load against the wall while
the queen squealed like a teenage girl. I almost puked watching from the
doorway.

The punk must have been on leave, since I saw him back there the next two
nights, doing the same disgusting, degrading shit. I decided I had to do
something about it. On the third night, I was waiting in the opening of the
alley across the street from the bar. The punk Marine staggered out of the
bar, leaving alone as he had on the other two nights. I barked at him from
across the street: "You, come here!" He saw my police uniform and crossed
the street obediently. He approached me with an expression of curiosity on
his face, although I stood there in an aggressive pose with my nightstick
in one hand, slapping my other palm with it. When he came within reach of
my hands, I grabbed his collar and roughly threw him into the alley.

I forced him up against a steel railing bolted to a wall in the alley,
shouting "Assume the fucking position, scum bag!" as I knocked his legs
apart with my nightstick. When he began to question me, I punched him on
the side of his head "Shut the fuck up, asshole!" He protested and I
whacked his balls with the nightstick. He collapsed to the filthy pavement
of the alley, clutching his family jewels. I dragged him to his feet by his
collar, forcing him to take the position to be frisked. Before he could say
anything, I had handcuffed his wrists to two of the brackets that held the
railing to the wall, forcing his arms wide apart and his hard ass high in
the air. I began to frisk him, taking extra care to feel his cock, balls
and ass. He got hard as I manhandled his body.

"What's wrong, officer?" He asked in a polite voice.

I roared in his ear "Didn't they fucking teach you how to address a
superior officer in the Corps, asshole?"

"SIR! Yes, SIR!" he answered automatically.

"Now listen to me, fuck face. From now on, you speak only when fucking
spoken too, Got it, asshole?"

"SIR, Yes, SIR!"

"Another sound out of you, and I'll rip your fucking balls off and stuff
them down your maggot punk throat. Got it, asshole?"

"SIR, Yes, SIR!" I pulled his pants down around his ankles, exposing his
hairless ass to the night air, framed in a jock strap. A drool of cum
leaked out of his well fucked ass, visible even in the weak light of a
fixture on the wall above us.

"You fucking make me sick, punk! You're a fucking Marine, but you'll get on
your knees for anyone, instead of doing it the Marine way: only for real
men! I saw you in that bar, faggot. I saw you sucking any cock that was
waved in your fucking face. I saw you take the cocks of fucking fairy
queens up your ass, punk. So, I'm here to teach you a fucking lesson they
failed to beat into your head in boot camp, asshole! A Marine is a fucking
MAN, and should only give himself to Real Men! There is no shame in a
Marine who fucks with a buddy, or with a REAL MAN who can use his fists. Do
you understand me, asshole?"

"SIR, Yes, SIR! I fucked up bad, SIR!"

"Are you ready to take your punishment, mother fucker?"

"SIR! Yes, SIR!"

"I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU!!!"

"SIR! YES, SIR! Ready to take my punishment, SIR! Any punishment you decide
is appropriate, SIR!"

"And I don't want to hear a sound out of your fucking faggot mouth while I
give you your punishment!"

"SIR! Yes, SIR!"

"I want to see you take it like a fucking MAN, fag boy! Although I doubt
you have the balls to do it!"

"SIR! Yes, SIR! I will take whatever punishment you dish out like a MARINE,
SIR!" I ripped his belt out of his pants, and began to beat his ass with
it. He groaned, but the fucking punk DID take his punishment like a man,
only grunting occasionally. I gave it to him as hard as I could. I whipped
him until my right arm got tired, and then shifted to my left arm. I had to
admire the mother-fucker. I knew a lot of older, very experienced slaves
who would have passed out by then from the beating he was getting. He was
whimpering with the pain now, and his knees were bent from the agony.
"SIR! Please, no more, SIR! I`ve learned my lesson, SIR."

"What lesson is that, faggot?"

"SIR! That a Marine shouldn't service any cock but that of a REAL MAN, SIR!
Like you, SIR!  May I service your cock, SIR!"

I probed his ass lips with my night stick. He groaned "NO, Sir, please!",
as I pushed it deeper in his ass. "Sir, you'll fucking kill me if you ram
that in my ass. Please, Sir, fuck me with your massive cock instead!" That
had been my plan all along, but I pushed just the tip of the nightstick,
which I had already greased to scare him, into his ass-pussy. I intended to
only shove in a few inches to loosen up his ass hole for me. And, frankly,
to cause him some more pain. I slowly inserted about three inches. He
howled as I did it, but arched his back and pushed back, his ass lips
swallowing another two inches by itself. He might be protesting, but the
little fucker was enjoying this!

I slapped his ass hard and he shut up. I hissed in his ear: "You like that
punk, don't you?"

Through gritted teeth, he gasped out "Sir, yes, sir..."

"Do you want more, punk?"

"Sir, yes, please, sir... please fuck me with your night stick, if that's
what gives YOU pleasure, SIR! Do what ever the fuck you want to do to me
which brings you excitement and gets you off, SIR!"

I liked this boy's attitude. He had already learned his place in the
universe - as a plaything for hot, masculine studs. Soon I had about nine
inches of polished wood rammed into his hole. He was panting in pain, but
taking it. "Beg for it, fag boy!"

He managed to gasp out in a fairly loud voice: "Sir, please fuck me with
it, sir.." I began to move it back and forth, and eventually, I had a good
ten inches in there. I reached around and clipped on a pair of strong,
sharp tit clamps. He hissed "Yesssss..." He groaned with the pain, but
pre-cum oozed through the tented pouch of his jock strap. I began to wobble
the night stick to further stretch his hole. He began to sob, but I have to
admit: he took it like a fucking man. I had never had a slave take more
than 6 inches with me torturing his cunt-hole with the night stick like
this, although some took more of the stick straight in when laying on a bed
in a more comfortable and direct position.  THIS was more exciting. He was
forced to bend over and still taking it like a fucking pro.

Finally, he gasped out: "SIR, please fuck me with your cock, SIR.... I know
that I don't deserve it, but I fucking need to feel YOU possess ME as your
bitch, SIR..."

By now, I was really hot. I opened my pants and fished out my cock. I
pulled the night stick out fast, causing him to gasp with the pain, and
rammed my fat 10 inch cock in balls deep in one stroke. He sighed with
contentment. "Thank you, SIR!!" I fucked him hard and fast. "Yes, SIR!. Do
it to me, SIR. Make me your pussy, SIR. Punish my ass with that giant cock
of yours, SIR! UGHH! Harder, SIR, please, SIR."

For a punk who had taken a lot of cock up his ass the last three nights,
and ten inches of a nightstick, his ass felt surprisingly tight and hot. It
took me three minutes of hard ramming to realize that the little fucker was
working his ass muscles to give me a hot ride. "Yeah, fag boy, work that
ass to get your Master's cum to shoot in your man-pussy!"

"Master, please fill me with your superior seed. Breed my slave ass,
Master. Make me your property, Master!!!" I nodded. He had said the words
that let me know he was mine.  I started to fuck him hard and fast, pulling
the chain on his tit clamps in the same rhythm. He moaned in pleasure.
"Master, I love your big, fat dick pounding in my slave guts!  Fuck me
harder, Master, PLEASE!" I was pounding in like a pile driver now, and was
working hard not to shoot my load until the punk did. "Master, you're cock
in my ass is making me so hot, Master. If you keep it up, this poor slave
will have no choice but to fucking cum, SIR!!" I rammed in harder and
pulled on the chain so har, I was sure I would rip a tit off. He gasped out
in passion, "Permission to shoot my load, SIR!!"

"Permission granted, cum dump. Let me feel your boy-pussy spasm while you
cum, Slave boy!" A dozen more strokes and the spasms began. He screamed out
a wordless wail and I saw his cum spurting through the cloth of his jock
strap. The feeling of his tight, spasming ass-cunt on my cock as he came
was really hot. Even while his ass was having involuntary spasms of
monumental proportions, the fucking little prick was still using his ass
muscles also to get me off. And I couldn't resist.

Fuck, I did not WANT to resist. What I wanted most in the world at that
moment was to breed my bitch slave and possess him, even if it had to be a
temporary arrangement, since as a Marine his leave has to end eventually.
This was the hottest slave I had ever used. "Take your Master's seed up
your fucking man-pussy, asshole slave! Aw, FUCK!!!! ARRGH!!"

I shot the biggest load I had shot in months deep into his guts, as he
sobbed. "Thank you for the gift of your manhood and your scuzz, Master."
Ramming in deep, I waited until my cock was soft enough, then let loose my
bladder in his ass. As his guts filled with my hot piss, he cried, "Oh,
Master! THANK YOU, SIR!"  I had hoped to totally humiliate him; he saw it
as an ultimate reward!

As part of my plan, I pulled out and got my clothes in order. I stood where
he could see me as I did it, sneering at him. I walked off, leaving him
cuffed, pants around his ankles, his guts fighting not to unload that piss
on his pants. "I've got some buddies who would be interested in meeting
that ass of yours, punk."

"Whatever you say, Master. WHATEVER makes my Master happy, I will do. But
first... Permission to speak, Master?"

Curious, I stopped and walked back to him. "What do you have to say,
asshole?"

"Sir, you were pointed out to me the first night I came to that bar last
week. I tried to get your attention that night, but you ignored me all that
night. Finally, in frustration, I acted the way you saw me, hoping to
finally get your attention, and make you angry enough to punish me." He
gave me a half grin which was sexy as hell.

"Why the fuck would you do that, cum-dump?"

"They told me you were the best in town at training slaves, Master."

"I am, you asshole fag-slave!"

"After what just happened in this alley, I believe it, SIR! Master, please
take me on as a full time slave in training?? PLEASE?"

"How long is your leave, asshole?"

"I'm not in the Corps anymore, Master. I got my sorry ass kicked out."

I wasn't about to let him see it in my face, but that was the best fucking
news I had heard since they told me I had been promoted to police Sergeant.
"What happened, boy?" I could not help letting some sympathy seep into my
question: I knew how tough the Corp could be on weak young men with tight,
hot asses. At 18, I had been one of those weak young men, until I learned
how to fight well enough to be USING the hot, tight asses of other young
Marines. Until though my training I got Marine TOUGH!

He looked me in the eye. "When I joined the Marines, I was a straight arrow
- played by all the rules, saving my virginity for my wedding night, the
whole nine yards. I didn't even drink beer. The biggest curse word I used
was `Heck'. To be honest, I was a real fucking pain in the ass to the other
men." He gave me that sexy half grin again "One night, two guys put
something in my soda that made me woozy and relaxed. They took me to the
showers, and one fucked my ass as the other fucked my throat. Soon, most of
the men in my unit were using me. As the drug wore off, I found I was
enjoying myself. I became the bitch for those first two studs, letting them
use my ass and mouth whenever they wanted, and they wanted it a lot. I
realized I was meant to serve tough men."

"On the other hand, I relaxed and became a "regular guy" and the men in my
unit liked me better. I now found the male bonding bullshit of boot camp
enjoyable. I went out drinking with them, and even fucked whores with
them. But usually, when my cock was in the whore`s pussy, a Marine's cock
was in my ass. I was the slut of the barracks, and loved it, but I also got
to fuck some ass and face. It was just gthe first two guys who used me who
treated me like shit and made me love it."

"To celebrate finishing boot camp, my two 'masters' decided that we would
all three get identical tattoos. We did, and were pretty drunk when we got
back to the barracks. They insisted I go into the latrine with them, and
take turn sucking their cocks. The first guy came and staggered off to sack
out. The other guy was standing still, making me hold him and do all the
work. Suddenly, we heard our drill sergeant's voice: `What the fuck is
going on here, Privates?' Before I could say anything, my `buddy' pointed
at me and said. `I just came in to take a piss, and this faggot grabbed me
and forced himself on me. I was too drunk to fight back, sergeant, and
frankly, the faggot gives great head.'"

"After ordering that cowardly traitor off to bed, the sergeant had me suck
his big dick, all the time verbally abusing me more imaginatively and
brutally than any man had ever done, which just got me hotter and hotter.
After he fed me a beautiful, big load, he force me to take my first taste
of piss. I haoted the first minute of it, then loved it.

Calling me more ugly names, some of them I have never heard before or
since, he forced me to eat his hairy ass until my jaw as aching, my firs
taste of man ass., which I lived from the first lick. Then he fucked me so
hard and rough that I thought I'd pass out. He told nme he was making me
his personal bitch.

Instead, he reported me the next morning for attacking the other Marine
sexually. I was court martialled and kicked out. I moved here to the big
city to try to hide, and to find a Real MAN to show me how to be a REAL
Slave. Then I found him. YOU! So, please Master, take me home and train
me."

Silently, I turned and I stomped off, leaving him cuffed to the railing, a
gut full of piss and cum boiling inside of him. I stood just out of sight
and smoked a cigar as I thought. I had never had a full time live-in slave
with me before, but the Boy was fucking appealing. He was hot, he was eager
to please, and I loved fucking his talented ass. He could take a hell of a
lot of discipline and keep going. I thought he looked fucking perfect, the
son I always wished I had. My main worry is that after being a loner all my
thirty eight years, I felt in danger of actually falling in love with the
fucking jarhead asshole. I was already falling for that sexy half-grin, and
wondered what a full smile from him would do to me. I had never been in
love, only lust and I was not sure how I would treat him if I fell in love
with HIM, not just his hot ass and his ability to take punishment that
would make other men pass out. Could I still give him the rough Slave
training he craved?

Fifteen minutes later, I lit a fresh cigar and swaggered back into the
alley.

"Master!" I got hard from the joy on his handsome punk face.

I blew cigar smoke in his face.  "OK, punk, you are now MY personal
property. That means you will not only serve me sexually, but will do all
my housework, cooking and cleaning. You will be naked 24/7 in the house,
unless I order you to dress up. I will train you for one year. Discipline
will be strict, and arbitrary, so you will have daily beatings for a long
time. If during the first year, you displease me at all, I will kick your
ass out into the street, naked. If you pass my year of training, I will
decide then if we make the arrangement last longer."

"Thank you, Master. I will do my best to serve you and always please you,
Master."

"Where are you staying, slave?"

"At the Y, Master." I uncuffed him and allowed him to dress after squatting
to drain my piss and cum from his guts in a corner of the alley. I decided
to leave the tit clamps on his chest under his shirt, to keep him excited.

"My car is around the corner, boy. Let's go to the Y and pick up your gear,
son. When we are in public, except with other slaves and masters or in a
bar, you will address me as 'sir', or 'Father'."

"Yes, sir, daddy." He grinned at me as I took a playful punch at his jaw
and walked out of the alley to begin his training.


* * * * *

Like I said, this all happened twenty years ago. And we still live
together. Most people in the gay community believe that he really IS my
son, since he legally changed his name to mine the week after I asked him
to be my permanent house slave, which was also the day I finally told him,
"I love you, son." I found I had no trouble giving the boi I loved the
rough loving he needed; he found it possible to teach me to have rare
nights of exquisite passion as equals.

He was so totally mine after one year that he wiped out his old identity,
literally taking my name. I am Police Sergeant Henry "Hank" Perkins. Sam
changed his name to Henry Perkins, Junior. "Junior" was only 20 at the
time, so I legally adopted him, using forged documents to prove to the
judge that Sam's mother had confessed on her deathbed that I was his real
father. (I also had some very good blackmail material on the judge that
insured his cooperation.)

A father wants the best for his son.

We used the change of his name to give Junior a fresh start. We got his
high school transcripts and got him into college. Since his military record
was under his original name, I was able to get him into the Police Academy
without any problem, and he joined me on the Force. After five years as my
slave, I began to train him as a Master. We love to go into a bar together
in uniform, and "arrest" a punk to work over together. When we are alone,
he is still my pussy boy. (Except for those rare nights of passion.)

But in public, we are a well known pair of tough Masters, and share a
stable of hot slaves. I'm fucking proud of my boy, who has his own
ex-Marine punk "slave-in-training" living with us now, who calls him
"daddy". If all goes well, I'll end up a "grandfather" next year!


Copyright 2005 - revised 2010 - "Ike"

This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior
consent from the author, who can be reached at oldtimer25@Gmail.com

The Author grants the NIFTY ARCHIVE a non-exclusive, worldwide,
royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to display this work.