Date: Sat, 5 May 2012 04:53:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: jdr <daiuyrau@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sergeant Submits chapter 3

     The usual disclaimers apply to all chapters in this series.  This is a
work of fiction intended solely for the edification and enjoyment of adults
of legal age.  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely
coincidental.  Mention or description of any institution is only for
background purposes and does not mean or imply any connection with or
disrespect to that institution.  All rights reserved subject to Nifty's
terms of use.  First time readers can learn more about the Colonel by
reading "With a Flip of a Coin" posted in Nifty's Gay Authoritarian and Gay
College sections in March and April 2012.

********************************************************************************

     This was the moment that the Colonel foresaw from the instant he
espied Sergeant Kevin Knoyle in the ROTC parking lot yesterday morning.
Like most difficult tasks it seemed easy to do, but the officer knew how
many decades of experience, how much trial and error, how much thinking and
plotting went into his supposedly effortless taking of the young soldier.
First the retired officer used his former field grade rank to take control
of the conversation.  Then he ferreted out two key facts: the sergeant's
love of hiking and all things outdoors; and his inability to resist a
challenge to his physical and mental invincibility.  The invitation to a
challenge hike, picking the sergeant up so he was dependent on the Colonel
for his ride home, stripping the soldier of his t-shirt, weighing him down
with the preposterously overstuffed field pack, isolating him in a secluded
wooded clearing far from the rest of the world, wearing him out physically
with windsprints, pushups and wheel barrow races while wearing the pack,
ordering him to set up his own tree chains, all of it led to this moment.

     Here was the former high school shortstop, the soldier who maxed every
PFT score, the paratrooper, the buck sergeant E-5, wearing nothing but
boots, socks, a jockstrap, dog tags, a blindfold and a head harness with a
tight fitting penis gag.  His arms and legs were stretched out into an X
with no room to wiggle or lessen pressure on his aching extremities.  His
legs were joining his arms in protesting the hour long hike, the runs up
and down the steep slope and all the other forced exercises.  His lungs
were pumping in and out, trying to push enough mountain air through his
nostrils to replenish his red blood cells with oxygen.

     And yet, for all that, SGT Knoyle was strangely at peace.  He had no
control over the situation, exactly what he loved most about serving in the
Army.  He was in the hands (literally and figuratively) of an officer with
higher rank than anyone who had commanded him directly before.  He was the
sole focus of this full bird colonel's attention.  He had already shown how
tough he was, and was ready to show even more.  Above everything else, he
wanted to please the Colonel, to impress him, to keep his sole attention,
to earn the older man's admiration.  He was ready to do whatever it takes.

     The Colonel put on a pair of leather gloves.  He stood in front of the
helpless sergeant and pinched the young man's nose shut.  After twenty
seconds or so he let go.  There was no need to repeat it, for he had made
his point.  The buck now knew that the officer had full and complete
physical power over him.

     Next the Colonel pulled the jockstrap pouch out and down, catching it
under the sergeant's balls, both exposing and jutting out his genitals.
Again the point was reinforced: the officer could do whatever he wanted and
the NCO was physically unable to resist.

     Without further ado, the Colonel picked up a single tail whip, stood a
couple of arm lengths behind the sergeant, and laid a full hard stroke onto
the sweating naked back.  The buck reacted by bracing himself just the
slightest bit.  His military discipline kicked in, preventing any further
movement.  The officer pulled the whip all the way back and lashed out yet
again, flicking his wrist to make the leather tail sing.  Another angry red
welt streaked diagonally across the soldier's back.  Again the whip lashed
out, again the soldier gave no reaction, again a red line appeared on the
white skin.

     Every soldier expects to be tested.  Some fear it.  Some accept it
with a shrug.  Some embrace it with enthusiasm.  Kevin definitely belonged
to the last group, the gung-ho types who take whatever their chain of
command orders with a grin asking if there was more to come.  The whipping
pushed the sergeant's brain back into time, remembering that soldiers had
always endured floggings while physically restrained.  This was true
soldiering.  This was the Old Army.  This was great!

     Instead of flinching away from the lash, the noncom pushed his body
back into it, welcoming it with an arched motion that exposed his torso
more fully.  The Colonel picked up on the body language and laid the whip
on even harder.  Just for added pain, the officer stepped up closer so the
tail would snake around to the soldier's abs and pecs.

     The pain was exquisite, then unbearable, then mind numbing as as the
sergeant's endorphins weighed in and swept him away and awash in pleasure.
His soldier cock stuck straight out.  His tongue gripped the penis gag.  So
overtaken was he that he did not even notice when the Colonel stopped
whipping him.  Instead, he felt the leather gloves caressing and massaging
him, starting with his pecs, then his abs, then reaching behind him to work
his back.  He bent his head back with desire as the gloves worked his ass
and then roamed around the sides of his cheeks to his crouch.  One gloved
hand started working his cock while the other unfastened the harness
buckles and withdrew the gag from his mouth.  A water bottle brushed
against his parched lips, letting him greedily gulp it down.

     "Are you enjoying all this, sergeant?" asked the Colonel, his leather
glove continuing to work the horny soldier cock.

     "Sir, yes, sir!" replied the buck.

     "Ready for more, soldier?  Or do you want to quit now?"

     "Sir, the sergeant is ready for whatever the colonel has in store!"

     "No regs, no limits, correct soldier?"

     "No regs, no limits, correct sir!!"

     The Colonel stopped stroking the young man's cock, leaving it hard and
unsatisfied.  He removed the gloves and took the blindfold off.  The
sergeant blinked at the return of daylight while the Colonel unhooked his
right wrist from its chain, leaving the cuff on.  He ordered the soldier to
unhook himself at the left wrist and both ankles.  Just as the noncom
started to relax his muscles, looking forward to working out the stiffness
in them, the Colonel barked a one-word order.

     "Attention!"  Immediately the former private braced in the position
drilled into his subconscious in OSUT, his eyes staring into space.  The
Colonel stepped in front of him.  "For the next phase you will be testing
yourself, sergeant, understood?"

     "Sir, yes, sir!" came the snappy response.

     "Fall out!"  The soldier relaxed slightly, knowing another order was
coming soon.  Sure enough, the Colonel ordered him to remove his boots,
which he did.  Then his boot socks, which he did.  Then his jockstrap,
which he did.  Then stuff the strap pouch into his mouth, which he did.
Then knot the two boot socks' toes together, which he did.  Then position
the knot at his mouth and tie the free sock ends behind his head securing
the jock gag in place, which he did.  Then use the bootlaces to tie each
boot off of a testicle, with his right boot hanging from his right nut and
his left from his left, which he did.  Then naked jumping jacks, hundreds
of them, the swaying boots yanking his balls on every bounce, his dog tags
swinging up and down, the cloth jock drying out his mouth, his lungs
screaming more and more for sea level air.  Finally and gratefully he heard
the command he wanted but refused to beg for.

     "Attention!"

     As the soldier stood in verbal bondage, hyperventilating for air, the
Colonel untied the boot socks, pulled the jock strap out and tossed all
three items to the blanket.  He untied and tossed to one side the left
boot.  Then he untied the right boot and held it in his left hand while
picking up a water bottle with his left.

     "Display!" he ordered, and the naked sergeant scrambled to his knees,
hands fingerlocked behind his head, arms out displaying his sweat-soaked
pits and chest.  "Eyes on me, soldier!" he heard, and swiveled his eyes to
the Colonel while keeping his head motionless.  He watched incredulously
and thirstily as the officer held the bottle over the boot, tipped it
horizontally, and poured the precious water the noncom needed into his
filthy hiking boot.

     The older man held the boot top to the younger man's lips and ordered,
"Drink!"  No second command was required.  Locked into the kneeling slave
display position, the sergeant drank the boot dry.

     The officer's next order reinforced the noncom's humiliation and
obedience.  "Bend down and lick my boots clean, soldier."  And so he did,
hands, still self-bound behind his head.  After he worked both boots with
his tongue, the Colonel ordered "Display!"  to return him to kneeling
upright.

     "Open your mouth, sergeant!"  He did so, only to have a plastic bag
top stuck between his teeth.  "Bite down on it, soldier, and don't let it
drop!  Fall in!"

     With that the buck scrambled to his feet and retook the position of
attention, the plastic bag hanging from his mouth.  "Parade rest!"  His
hands flew behind his back so his right palm could clench the back of his
left hand while his legs spread apart to shoulder width.  He then received
his next assignment.

     "Sergeant, in that bag are one hundred wooden clothespins.  You shall
hold the bag in your mouth so both your hands are free to fix the pins at
one-inch intervals on your skin.  I will tell you what areas to cover.  The
pins go on in pairs, first one on your right side then the second on the
same place on your left side.  Start with your nipple NOW!"

     The sergeant was a stranger to tit torture, or for that matter to any
other kind of BDSM, but an order is an order and a challenge can always be
overcome.  One instruction followed another as he blanketed his torso with
clothespins all over his pecs, abs and the bottoms of his upper arms.  The
next instruction removed the one-inch restriction and required him to
clothespin his own ballsac and cock while the Colonel watched from a
humiliating one foot away.  The pins mostly stung, and a few of them
actually hurt, but this was nothing to the combat vet.

     The next order sent him into the bushes with a knife to cut and trim a
proper switch.  He did so, returned to the clearing, and presented the
shorn bush branch to the Colonel.  On orders he blindfolded himself and
assumed the standing display position, identical to kneeling display except
he was standing upright with his feet shoulder width apart.

     "Sergeant, it's time for me to know you better.  I have a hundred
questions for you.  You will answer each one promptly, honestly and in
full, understood?"

     "Sir, yes, sir!" came the response, but the soldier's mind filled with
trepidation.  What would the Colonel pry out of him?  What secrets would he
reveal?  How much internal privacy would he have left after all the
questions were done?

     "After each answer I shall knock a clothespin off with the switch and
you shall thank me, understood sergeant?"

     "Yes, sir!"  And so it began.  Blindfolded, sweating profusely, held
verbally in a modified parade rest with hands locked behind his head, Kevin
Knoyle started spilling his darkest secrets.  After each answer the Colonel
would hold a clothespin by its sides, pull the skin taut, then whack the
pinched skin with the switch, freeing the clothespin and and inflicting
pain on the sergeant.

     At first the questions didn't seem like much, mostly background ones
about where he grew up, his family, his friends, his Army career.  Just
when they started getting uncomfortably personal, the Colonel took a break
in place.  While maintaining the sergeant in the standing display position,
the officer fed him lunch in the form of sandwiches, cookies and water.

     After the field lunch the interrogation got serious.  Before the
sergeant could have a chance to appreciate the consequences of an answer,
the switch would swish down, the pain would interrupt his thought and the
Colonel would shoot another question at him.  The result was far more
intimate information than the soldier ever intended to reveal.  By the time
the last clothespin hit the ground the officer knew all about the buck's
sex life, fantasies and desires as well as his finances, social networks
and all his friends' names, both in and out of the military.

     One answer gave the Colonel the key to taking down the sergeant and
turning him into a gay sex submissive.  It was one that the soldier would
never expect to lead to that result.  When asked about his proudest
physical accomplishments, he replied that he enjoyed showing off by walking
on his hands.

     When the hundred questions ended, the Colonel commanded the young buck
to show him just how good he was at handwalking.  Thinking that this was a
moment of relaxation, the agile paratrooper flipped upside down onto his
hands and walked around the clearing until the officer ordered him to stop,
then stepped up and used the soldier's upright ankles to guide him under
the dangling chains.

     The officer hoisted the naked sergeant's legs up first one chain and
then the other, back and forth until he was well off the ground with his
spread-wide crotch even with the taller man's collarbone his cuffed arms
dangling straight down and his dog tags annoyingly draping his face.  The
Colonel retrieved first one tree base chain and then the other, resulting
in the soldier hanging in an upside-down X, his manhood equipment fully
accessible and exposed, and his upside-down mouth uncomfortably close to
the officer's crotch.

     Things got even more uncomfortable for the NCO when the officer peeled
off his own long sleeve tee and dropped his shorts, revealing that he had
gone commando and was wearing nothing but boots and socks.  Seemingly
oblivious to the fact that his junk was waving in the sergeant's face, the
Colonel proceeded to work on the young man's family jewels.  He moved
slowly, deliberately, ever increasing the pressure and the pain.  He
concentrated first on one testicle, then the other, then both.  He squeezed
them, stretched them, slapped them, eventually punched them.

     The sergeant's attitude slowly deteriorated.  First he was confident.
Then he was worried.  Next he was scared.  After what seemed like two
hours, hours filled with unrelenting ballwork but which actually lasted not
nearly so long, he was consumed by pain, incoherent from pain, robotized by
pain, screaming for relief from the pain, begging for a stop to the pain,
bargaining to do anything anything anything to terminate the pain.

     "Did you say anything, boy?" the Colonel asked, subtly slipping in the
demeaning epithet.

     "Sir, yes, sir, anything, sir, please stop, sir, you win, I have had
enough, sir, please stop, sir, I will do anything, sir, please stop
punching my balls, sir."

     "Tell me who you are, boy, tell me you are my bootlicker, boy."

     "Sir, I am your bootlicker, sir, I will gladly lick your boots anytime
you order me to, sir!"

     "And my cock, boy, will you lick my cock?"

     "Sir, mmmph!" the conversation was cut off by the Colonel as he shoved
his cock into the soldier's open mouth and held it there by pressing on the
back of the upside-down head."

     "You said anything, BOY, and that includes sucking my cock.  Now suck
on it good unless you" and with that he punched the exposed balls "
punching them again "want" and again "me" and again "to" and again "keep"
and again "doing" and again "THIS!" and gave them the hardest punch of all.

     The sergeant was trapped, panicking, fighting to hold down his lunch,
but deep down realized that he was defeated for good.  The Colonel had done
something no one else had ever done.  He had broken paratrooper combat
veteran buck sergeant Kevin Knoyle.