Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2012 14:25:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: jdr <daiuyrau@yahoo.com>
Subject: With a Flip of a Coin


      Jeff and Sam were as alike as like can be.  They had known one
another since forever, growing up in the same small Wyoming town in the
same grade from kindergarten on.  Both had blond hair and fair skin.
Jeff's eyes were blue while Sam's were hazel, changing between green and
blue.  They were best friends from the day they met.  All the way through
grade school and high school, they hung out together.  When they hit
puberty together they set up some weights and a bench in Jeff's family's
barn, where they worked out shirtless and filled out their frames with hard
lean muscle.

      Both enjoyed sports in their small town and always played on the same
teams, from Little League and Pop Warner right on through their senior year
at the state tournaments.  Jeff was the quarterback and Sam his favorite
receiver.  Sam was an outfielder and Jeff was the first baseman.  Both
played forward on the basketball team.  There was never any sense of
competition between them or any need for one to outdo the other.  Instead,
each was always there for the other, urging one another on to do their
best.

      Jeff's family owned a ranch outside of town and did well enough that
he didn't have to work except for daily chores.  Sam's family owned a store
in town and did well, too.  Besides being good in sports, both made pretty
good grades and were accepted automatically into the University of Wyoming.
It took no thought for them to agree to room together all four years,
renting out the basement of a house in Laramie and moving in the August
after high school graduation.  The place had its own entrance, two
bedrooms, a bathroom with a shower and a large center room that included
the kitchen and living room.  It was close enough to campus for them to
walk or skateboard to class in nice weather and bicycle to school and back
the rest of the year.  The heating system worked well, allowing them to
stay shirtless and barefoot even on the coldest days.

      Being on their own for the first time, and both just turned eighteen,
they were tempted by all the parties.  Early on they decided not to give in
to it.  They kept one another serious about their studies and broke the
monotony by being workout buddies at Half Acre Gym.  There Sam heard some
talk about the Colonel and mentioned it to his friend.

      "Who's that?" asked Jeff as he bench pressed the bar.

      "Who's who?" replied Sam as he spotted for his roommate.

      "The Colonel," said Jeff as he exhaled while extending his arms
upward, his biceps flexing hard.

      "Oh," said Sam, "just some guy I heard someone talking about.
Apparently, he's quite a character and a bit scary."

      Jeff finished his set, settled the bar into the rests with Sam's help
and then swung up and around to sit on the side of the weight bench.
"Scary how so?" he asked.

      "Well, they say he's a former Army officer, a Vietnam veteran and
really tough, more mentally tough than physically.  He's an old guy, in his
sixties, but he specializes in testing college guys by breaking them down
and forcing them to submit to him."

      "Who the hell would want to do that?" asked Jeff.  "Wouldn't a guy
already know how tough he is without getting together with that Colonel
dude?"

      "That's just the point," replied Sam.  "The Colonel only accepts the
toughest guys.  He challenges them to outlast him.  From what I hear, so
far no one has."

      "Hmm" said Jeff.  "This sounds like one of your dares coming.  Remind
me not to listen to it," he said with a knowing grin.

      "Damn, bro," Sam laughed.  "You know me too well.  I was thinking we
should try it out and see what happens."

      "You mean the two of us let this old guy try to break us together,
Sam?"

      "Nah, from what I hear he doesn't work on more than one guy at a
time.  If two guys show up, he picks one to be broken and then trains the
other guy to take charge of the broken dude."  Sam traded places with Jeff,
his back on the bench as he lifted through his last bench press set.

      "Take charge for how long?" asked Jeff as he spotted for his friend.

      "I dunno," said Sam as he exhaled on the upstroke, "I guess until the
guy in charge gets tired of it or something."

      "So let me see if I understand this," said Jeff.  "You want us to go
see this old geezer and one of us submits to him until he's either broken
or not, correct?"

      "Correct."

      "And if the Colonel succeeds in breaking one of us, then what?"

      Sam finished his set, his face sweating and turning red as he
concentrated on the burn.  Then he pulled up to a sitting position, stood
up and turned to Jeff with a grin.  "Then the other guy takes charge of him
for the rest of the school year.  That's the dare.  Are you in or not?"

      "Hell, Sam, you know I never turn down a dare.  Just be careful what
you wish for."

      A few blocks away, the Colonel was working at home.  After Infantry
OCS and two Vietnam tours he stayed in the Army, made full colonel and then
took retirement.  He spent another twenty years keeping himself in shape
both physically and financially.  He had known, long before the Army and
certainly long before the Internet, that he was born to dominate other men.
Over the years he perfected his techniques until he had it all down to a
science and an art.  He deliberately selected Laramie as his home because
of the presence of both the University and a large vocational school in the
town of thirty thousand.  It was small enough to get the word around and
big enough for concealment
      .
      The Colonel had no need for a live-in slave boy but he kept several
of his former trainees on call as needed.  To him, the act of taking and
breaking was the name of the game.  If he admitted to a need beyond that,
he would have to say that he wanted a protege, a junior Master to mentor
and train correctly.

      For some time the Colonel had entertained a theory about Doms and
subs.  Experience showed him that some men were born to dominate or submit.
For everyone else, he felt that any man lacking strong traits one way or
the other could be made into a slave or a Master.  He only had to find the
right lab rats for his experiment.

      He was therefore both surprised and not so surprised when he received
an email that evening.  It read:

"Sir: We are two UW freshmen, roommates, best friends, straight, athletic,
both eighteen years old, no experience but eager and curious.  We have made
a dare.  We ask your permission to come visit you and have you select one
of us for submission testing.  If he survives the test, the other will
submit to him for the rest of the school year.  If you break him, he
becomes the other's slave.  Either way, we ask you to train the one in
charge to be a true master and owner of a well-trained slave.  If you are
interested, please let us know when and where to meet you.  Respectfully,
two Wyoming boys"

      Attached was a picture.  It showed two shirtless guys, each with his
arm over the other's shoulder, smiling at the camera while wearing cowboy
hats, boots and jeans.  The Colonel was pleased.  He thought for two
minutes and then replied:

"Wyo boys: Friday night, 1900, public library parking lot.  Finish eating
no later than 1730.  No alcohol, weed, drugs or beating off until our
meeting.  Have no plans until Sunday morning.  Be in one truck dressed just
like in your pic with jockstraps on under your jeans.  The Colonel"

      Sam's dick started getting hard when he saw the email come in.  It
only got harder as he read the message.  "Hey, Jeff!" he yelled, "Come in
here.  I have something to show you!"

      Jeff dropped his English book, rushed out of his bedroom through the
living room and into Sam's bedroom.  There his best friend was grinning
from ear to ear.  "What you got?" he asked.

      "An email.  From the Colonel.  We're on for Friday, dude!"

      Jeff read the email and started grinning himself, his groin growing
beneath his basketball shorts.  This was it.  No turning back.  Neither
Jeff nor Sam would ever go back on a dare.  By sometime Saturday one would
be enslaved to the other.

      Friday night could not come soon enough for the two eager curious
freshmen.  That afternoon after classes they put themselves through an
especially heavy workout, starting on the climbing wall, then with free
weights and ending with a swim.  By the time they reached their basement
home both were too tired to do anything but take a nap until time to eat.
Then they sat on the couch, too wired to play video games or watch
television or even talk.  At five minutes before seven they wordlessly got
up, walked out to Sam's pickup truck and got in.  Sam drove to the library
and parked in the empty lot.

      They did not have long to wait.  Almost immediately another pickup
truck pulled up beside Jeff's side.  The driver rolled down his window.
There was the Colonel: gray hair cut to military length, his firm muscled
face shaved smooth, his eyes piercingly clear behind his glasses.  "Follow
me," he said, rolled his window back up, backed out of the parking place
and headed south out of the lot.  Sam drove right behind him until they
arrived at an innocent looking house on a corner lot.  The garage door was
open.  The Colonel drove inside, got out of his truck, walked out of the
garage and pulled down the door.  Without looking at the boys he walked to
the front door, opened it, let them pass him and then shut and locked the
door.

      So there they were: two shirtless cowboys in hats, jeans, rodeo belt
buckles and boots.  The Colonel gave them both a stern glance and then
ordered "On my command, drop for pushups, twenty-five good ones, count them
out loud with a SIR after each number.  DROP."  And they did, side by side,
bobbing up and down in unison, shouting "One, SIR, Two, SIR," and so on all
the way to twenty-five.  "Recover," ordered the Colonel, and they both
scrambled to their feet to obey, their faces slightly flushed and their
chests pumped up by the exercise.

      "Do you both know why you are here?" the former officer asked.

      "Yes, Sir!" they both replied back.

      "Do you both agree to accept my decision on who gives in to whom?"

      "Yes, Sir!"

       "Then turn and look at each other."

      They did so, Jeff to Sam's left and then each facing his lifelong
friend.

      "From this moment on, your relationship will change.  Are you both
ready for that?" asked the Colonel.

      This time the answers came out a bit softer and ragged: "Yes, Sir."

      The Colonel stepped up, standing fully clothed to Jeff's left and
Sam's right.  "Call me Colonel.  Soon enough one of you will call me Sir
while the other continues to call me Colonel."  He pointed first to Jeff.
"You, what's your first name?"

      "Jeff, Colonel."

      Then he pointed to Sam.  'What's your first name?"

      "Sam, Colonel."

      "Are you ready for my selection, Jeff and Sam?"

      "Yes, Colonel," they both said together.

      Then, to their surprise, the imposing Army officer thrust his right
arm into the space between them, his fist closed with fingers up, then
opened his hand to show a silver dollar nesting in his palm.

      "You," he said, pointing his chin to Jeff, "call it in the air, the
winner gets to own the loser from now on."  And with that, the coin flipped
up and over rising to eye height and then dropping down to be caught.

      "Heads," said Jeff.  And heads it was.

      Sam was stunned.  From the start he had had some vague notion that he
would wind up on top.  It would be fun to mess around with Jeff, but
nothing really serious, just some light hazing and maybe make Jeff keep the
basement apartment clean for awhile.  Never did he think that thing would
get so serious, and certainly not with him risking his freedom on a coin
toss.  Before he could react, the Colonel stepped behind him, yanked his
limp arms behind his back and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

      "Shove your slave to his knees, Master Jeff," barked the Colonel.

      Jeff was as dazed as Sam but he reacted without thinking.  He put his
calloused hands on Sam's shoulders and pushed downward.  Sam might have
resisted if he had had time to think, but the Colonel's hands hit him
behind his knees, buckling them and landing him on his kneecaps on the
carpeted floor.

      Then Sam recovered his wits enough to say, "Jeff, I don't think ..."

      Whap!  The Colonel?s open hand slapped Sam's right cheek hard,
knocking his head to one side.  Before he could respond, the Colonel
snapped at Jeff.

      "Get out your cock, Master Jeff, and take charge of your slave."

      Without a word, Jeff unbuttoned his jeans, pulled his cock out of his
jockstrap and stuck it out at his best friend in the world.  Sam opened his
mouth to protest only to have Jeff thrust his horn dog cock into its warm
wet interior.

      Sam was stuck.  He was shirtless, kneeling, handcuffed, his best
bud's cock in his mouth all the way to the back of his throat.  He
struggled to pull back, only to have the Colonel shove one hand behind
Sam's head while the other hand grabbed Jeff by the right wrist and pulled
Jeff's hand to the back of Sam's head.

      Jeff quickly took the hint and crammed Sam's head up against his abs,
then let it pull back, then rocked Sam's reluctant mouth back and forth
upon his cock.  God, it felt good!

      Before either guy got comfortable, the Colonel gave Jeff's bare chest
a light push and said, "Back off, Master in Training.  I have work to do
and you need to leave.  Be back at midnight."

      "Yes, Colonel," said the suddenly confident young man, who felt
taller than before.

      "No drinking, weed, drugs or beating off until you return, Master
Jeff."

       "Yes, Colonel."

      While the former officer was talking, he stuck a ball gag in the
kneeling sub's mouth and fastened the leather straps behind his head.  Jeff
reached down, pulled Sam's truck keys out of Sam's right jeans pocket and
left without another word.