Date: Mon, 19 Dec 2005 21:38:07 +0000
From: Randy Dragon <naughtydragon69@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Mission (military) Part 11

Disclaimer:
This story deals with mature subject matter and involves intimate gay sex.
If it is illegal for you to read such material, due to your age or location,
then please don't. If you are offended by acts of sexuality between
consenting and non-consenting adults, then Do Not Read this story.

The author does not necessarily condone or subscribe to the behavior
discussed in this story.  It was written strictly as a form of entertainment
and acts described should not be attempted by anyone that does not know what
the hell they are doing. Any similarity with existing persons would be
accidentally as the whole story is pure mad fantasy.


The Mission (Part 11)

The broad shoulders and the back with the Celtic tattoos were covered with a
thin layer of sweat while the man did his push-ups.

There were lots of things, troubling his mind, things he had to learn to
come into terms with.  He had had a lot of time, however, to relive what had
happened to him and what had been done to him.  His pride and his
self-confidence had been severely crushed when he suffered the most
devastating defeat of his life. The Arab rebel leader had systematically
turned his strength against him. He had been taught a most humiliating
lesson that his sexual prowess was as well his weakness.
He had been used like a cheap whore, as a servant of the sexual pleasures
Rashad had demanded. He remembered with horror how he had been pathetically
disposed. Helpless gagged, stuffed into a body bag together with a piece of
his own underwear that was soaked with fuckin' chloroform. He had tried
hard, but he hadn't had a chance. The vapors had worked efficiently, and
when he woke up again, he was already on board of a freighter under the flag
of Liberia, bound for an unknown destination.

He had been treated well and he hadn't resisted nor tried to escape because
Rashad had most efficiently taken the will to fight out of him and he had to
realize that having no clue about his whereabouts, any escape would have
been useless as he wouldn't know where to go.

After a while his badly hurt ego started recovering.  As there was not much
to do - actually, there was nothing to do it all - he started exercising to
get his body back into shape. As he couldn't communicate with the crew, who
didn't speak English, he exercised a lot.
Now, the journey seemed to have come to an end. During the night the ship
had anchored at an unknown shore. In the morning a motorboat arrived and the
crew signaled him that the time had come for him to leave.

Dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of flip-flops, all given
to him after he had arrived naked, he climbed down the vessel's side by a
rope-ladder.

"Welcome Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, most welcome," a small, bald shaved man
wearing gray cotton trousers and a long sleeved vest of the same color
smiled at him. He was clearly Asian, maybe eighteen maybe twenty years old.

"Where am I?  How do you know my name?" Hank asked.

"Please, Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, sit down, the sea might be rough," the
Asian pointed to a bench, turned around and fired up the engine of the boat.
  He was looking back to Hank over his shoulder.

"My name is Eng-Lok," he shouted over the roaring sound of the motor.

It took them half an hour until they reached the shore.  They entered a
small bay and approached a wooden landing stage. There were two men waiting
for them.

One was another Asian dressed in black silk clothes. Hank guessed the man to
be in his late forties. He stood at 5' 5", lanky, weighing less than 150
lbs. His short-cut brisk hair was pitch-black.

The other man was a muscular Caucasian male. He looked rather American in
his mid-thirties, broad shoulders, about 190 lbs. He stood 6.1 ft. tall. His
dark-blonde crew cut hair was short-clipped at the sides. He could have been
a member of the Marine Corps, however, he was not wearing a uniform. The man
was concentrating on bouncing a basketball between his legs. Barbwire
tattoos were circling the calves. He was wearing a jersey, shorts and
worn-out sneakers.

The black-clothed Asian turned to Hank. Dark, mesmerizing, piecing eyes were
dominating the clean-shaven face.

"My name is Kim Nang Po, but you may call me Kim, or if you'd preferred
already: Master Kim," he said in a cool voice.

"Chet, say hello to this gentleman, he will stay with us for a long time,"
Kim said.

The white man caught the ball and looked at Hank with a friendly smile.

"Hi, my name is Chet," he extended his hand. Hank noticed the USMC bulldog
tattoo on the man's biceps.

"My name is Hank," Hank shook Chet's hand in bewilderment.

"Are... are you a Marine?" Hank asked.

"A Marine?" Chet looked confused, "I... I dunno..."

He grinned sheepishly and started again, bouncing his ball.

Kim smiled shortly and called something in a foreign language to Eng-Lok.
The bald men bowed and ran down the landing stage.

"Mr. O'Dowerty, please," he pointed invitingly to a parked Jeep at the sandy
beach road. Eng-Lok was already waiting in the driver seat. Chet jumped
playfully in the front passenger seat. Kim motioned Hank to sit with him in
the back of the open car.  They took off and soon entered the jungle,
following a mud track. Hank was still trying to comprehend what was going
on.  The heat and moisture of the tropical climate were already getting to
him and he felt his sweat soaking the T-shirt. He hit his arm and squashed a
mosquito that tried to feed on him. Above the monotone roar of the car
engine, he heard the sounds of the jungle. Shrill shrieks of birds and
cackling monkey laughter filled the air.
After three hours the road was climbing steeply and the vegetation changed.
The temperature dropped and the bushes and ferns of the jungle, where more
and more replaced by pine trees, enriching the air with aromatic resinous
flavor. Then the dense forest opened, and they entered into a village of
ramshackle huts.

"This is Suyang-dong village," Eng-Lok said," I was born here."

Above the village, nested in an anticline, rose a fortress-like structure
made of dark granite stone blocks. Several convoluted winged roofs crowned
the building complex. The shiny yellow tiles were glistening like molten
gold in the beams of the rising morning sun.  Fierce looking dragons were
guarding the rooftops. The Jeep passed through a massive wooden gate and
Hank caught a glimpse of some grim looking god-like statues guarding the
entrance. After passing through another gate that was guarded by stern-faced
muscle-packed men with naked torsos, they stopped in the center of a pebbled
courtyard.

"Welcome to the Temple of the Dark Moon," Kim said and invited Hank to leave
the car.

Chet jumped from the Jeep as well and started playing with his ball.

"Where am I? What country is this?" Hank asked.

"All in due time, Mr. O'Dowerty, first we should find you a place to stay."
Kim replied softly.

"Chet! Why don't you show your room to our friend? I think it might be a
nice idea that you two stay together." Kim said.

"Cool!" Chet grinned. Still bouncing his ball, he grabbed Hank's hand and
pulled him towards a flight of stairs leading to the first floor of the
building. They were walking alongside a balcony and entered the house
through a dim-lit narrow corridor until they reached Chet's room.
There was a typical decoration that reminded Hank about his time in high
school. Posters of football players were at the wall. There were two
hammocks and coarse wool rags covering the stone floor.

"You can sleep there," Chet pointed to one of the hammocks.

Hank's mind was racing.  He remembered his telephone conversations with
Dwight about the USMC Captain, who had disappeared in Korea. His first name
had been Chet. Could it be?  If that was Chet Durango, then they had brought
him to Korea; North Korea to be precise. But why?

Chet was still bouncing the ball.

"OK, Captain Durango, we are alone now, you can stop this charade. Sir? Tell
me, what is this whole thing about?  Who are those people?  What do they
want?  Why are they holding us?  Is this Korea?" Hank asked eagerly.

Chet avoided looking at him and balanced the rotating ball on his finger.

"Stop that fucking playing," Hank seized Chet's arm and the ball bounced
away.

"Sir, I don't know why you are doing this, but with all due respect, why are
you behaving like a twelve year old?"

"I am fifteen already," Chet protested, looking for the ball.

"What the fuck is this?  Captain, I am Master Sergeant Hank O'Dowerty, USMC.
I have been abducted from Iraq." Hank urged," Sir, back home they know where
you are and they are going to get us out of here."

"I don't know what you're talking about.  Why are you so strange?  That is
not funny!" Chet looked miserable.

"Damn, what is going on here?!" Hank shouted irritated.

"Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, " Eng-Lok was standing in the door. He smiled
politely.

"Master Kim is asking for you.  He wants to show you the temple. " The monk
turned around, apparently expecting Hank to come with him.

Hank gave Chet a final confused look and followed Eng-Lok.

"I know that you have a lot of questions to ask and I thought you might be
interested to see this," Kim and Hank were walking into another courtyard.
About forty men, dressed only in skimpy black Speedos were doing push-ups
supervised by an elderly monk.

Hank looked in disbelief at the sweating athletic bodies. Many of the men
had tattoos of the Army, of the Navy, of the Air Force or of the US Marine
Corps on the arms or shoulders. The buzz haircut identified them as well as
military personnel.
The hunky master Sergeant was wondering why he suddenly became aware that he
hadn't cum for more than a week by now. Rashad had drained him so thoroughly
that there hadn't been the tiniest desire throughout the whole journey on
board of the freighter. There was promptly a huge amount of saliva in his
mouth and he swallowed.

"What the hell is this?  We are in North Korea, aren't we?  I didn't know,
that we have a training base over here." Hank asked startled.

For the first time since they had met Kim laughed.

"A training base?  Oh well, indeed we might call it that.  You seem to be a
very intelligent man, Master Sergeant, although you're missing a little
detail." Kim grinned.

"You see, we are training these men here to keep them in shape.  For our
purpose, we need them healthy, and... how do you call it in America?...
pumped. Yes, I think, that is the word: Pumped."

The notion triggered something deep inside of him, although Hank failed to
comprehend the sudden competing sensations within. Nevertheless, he felt the
probing look of the Asians dark eyes scanning his body.

"Let's walk over there," Kim was pointing to a nearby building. To Hank's
surprise, there was a modern gym inside that didn't fit at all to the old
temple. Heavily breathing men were working out on weightlifting machines,
treadmills and lat machines. All were wearing the tiny black Speedos he had
already seen outside.
Now there was a distinctive tingling in his balls and he felt the coarse
fabric of his jeans grating the cut head of his twitching cock as he did not
wear any underwear. Automatically he adjusted his balls and this didn't go
unnoticed by the Asian.

"Hi, Master Kim, "one of the men with a hard swimmer's body pushing
dumbbells said eagerly," look, I can push now two hundred fifty pounds
already."

"That is very good, Simon, you are a good boy. I am very contented with your
progress," Kim noted in appreciation and petted the sweat-soaked cheek of
the sinewy men in his early twenties. Simon looked at him gleefully.

"Simon was transferred to us after he failed to get on board of the yacht of
a Colombian drug lord," Kim explained walking on. "He was in pretty bad
shape, when the drug mafia released him, but after a couple of months of
bodily training and spiritual exercises, I'd say he is quite presentable
now, don't you think Mr. O'Dowerty?"

"Yes, certainly, but... but he is acting somehow...uhm strange," Hank replied.
"I realized this as well as Captain Durango, you know?"

"Mr. O'Dowerty, you have a lot of questions and I assure you they will all
be answered in due time. After this long journey many things here in Asia
would certainly look strange to you. I assure you that we are specialized to
bring the best out of our students. You will start with your training
tomorrow." Kim said, "but tonight, you will meet the Grandmaster Gao-Ban,
who is the present Abbott of our temple. He is much more competent than me,
to enlighten you with spiritual clarity. "

Kim led him back to the residential quarters of the temple. "You must be
tired after this long journey. You might wish to rest until lunch is
served."

When Hank returned to his room Chet was gone. On his hammock, however, he
found some new clothes that had been provided for him. There was a light
blue, comfortable looking short sleeved cotton vest and a pair of black
trousers that were covering the legs, just over the knee caps, leaving his
strong calves with the barbed-wire tattoo visible. He adjusted the black
cotton belt around his waist and lay down in the hammock.

He woke up from Chet's whistling when he returned rather noisily from his
workout. His muscular body was covered in sweat and he was wearing the same
black Speedo that he had seen on the other men earlier.

"Hi.  How are you feeling now? These clothes are quite comfy, huh? Let me
take a shower and then we go for lunch." Chet fetched a towel and rushed out
of the door.

Chet returned seemingly in no time.  Pearls of water were still dropping
from his moist black hair.  He threw the damp towel on a chair and dressed
in a combination of the same blue and black cotton clothes same as Hank.

"Let's go, I'm really hungry," Chet said. They walked downstairs and crossed
the courtyard towards a long stretched building. Laughter and chattering of
a crowd and the clanging of crockery could be heard. There were about
seventy young men sitting at long tables inside eating rice, vegetables and
fish from ceramic bowls.  All were wearing the blue and black cotton clothes
and were apparently in high spirits. The whole scene brought Hank's memories
back about his summer camp vacations when he was a teen boy. Hank's
confusion grew. The whole place was lacking the strict discipline, which was
so typical for US military facilities. This was the strangest training camp
he had ever seen.

"So what is your assignment?" He asked a stocky built guy with cropped red
hair, who was sitting at their table and whom Chet had introduced as Bobby.

"Assignment?" Bobby grinned sheepish and continued shoveling rice into his
mouth.

Hank took a sip from his mug. The drink was apparently a kind of protein
shake, with an exotic flavor, but not bad.

"You must have an assignment," he insisted.

"You mean homework?" Bobby asked, "not really much you know."

"Why are you asking all this strange questions?"  Chet asked later, when
they were walking back to their room.

"I don't understand you Captain, but if you want to play on with this
charade...," Hank shrugged, but inside of him despair was growing.

Chet changed again into his black Speedo.  He was hardly done when the door
was opened.

"Time for your spiritual cleansing," Eng-Lok smiled. He nodded friendly at
Hank.

"Uhm do I have to, Master Eng-Lok ... I mean I did only yesterday," Chet asked
almost fearfully.

"Chet you know that you have to. Let's go!" Eng-Lok said.

"I know, I'm ready." Lamely Chet followed Eng-Lok.

"Wait a minute...", Hank wanted to follow as well, but was held back by
Eng-Lok stopped him holding a hand against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, but you cannot come with us.  You
need first your initiation. Only then can you participate in the spiritual
cleansing classes. But I'm sure this will soon be happening," Eng-Lok said
with a winning smile."

Hank was still wondering what this initiation would be when he heard foot
steps approaching.
Two middle-aged monks were leading a black stud about 20 years old down the
aisle. His head was bald shaven. Hank guessed him at 6.2  ft. He was heavily
muscled, weighing at least 240 lbs. His incredible developed chest was
dominated by a pair of hard-muscled, flexing hanging pecs. He was wearing
studded leather bands around his wrists and the black speedo slip was barely
able to contain a hefty 12 inch baby-maker.

They were just past Hank, when it hit him. He knew that hunk.

"Trent?  Trent Crusher?" He asked in total surprise. Hank knew the
Linebacker from the `Pink Cock'. What was he doing here?

Trent turned around. His eyes narrowed.

"Do I know you, how do you know my name?" he asked.

"You need to hurry, otherwise you're late for your cleansing class," one of
the monks urged him.  The other monk looked apologetic at Hank. This time
Hank was determined to find out what was going on. The three men had just
walked on and were descending down into the courtyard.  Hank was rushing
after them on bare feet, hiding behind pillars as best as he could.

Trent and the three monks passed a gate and crossed another courtyard.
Finally, they entered a huge round building with a red-tiled roof. Hank
followed them. He watched them disappear through a narrow door behind a
table that looked like an altar with incense sticks, burning oil lamps and
piles of oranges.

When Hank entered the room it was empty. There were some dusty chairs with
broken legs in one corner and a huge rug covering one of the walls. The air
smelled heavily of incense.

"What the heck?  Where are they?" Hank asked silently. He walked across the
room and pulled at the rug.

"Yeah!" He hissed in triumph. There was a small entry with stairs leading
down.  Hank didn't hesitate and followed these stairs. At the bottom was
another door which he opened cautiously. He was looking into an entirely
different world.

The air was filled with the acrid smell that is so typical for hospitals.
The hall below the temple turned out to be a modern research laboratory that
could easily rival any facility in Europe or in the US.
High-powered halogen light made the chrome surface of tables and desks
shine. Scientific staff dressed in green laboratory gowns hasted through the
room. Others were busy keying in data into the many computer terminals.
Nobody took any notice of the three monks who led Trent into a section
separated from the main laboratory by transparent glass walls.

In the center of the section was a row of machines that looked like saddles
of heavy motorbikes.
The room was filled with curses and groans from the naked virile hunks who
were riding the slowly rocking bike-like machines.

"Motherfucka...shit...bastards...fuckk," were some words that Hank understood.
Trent was seemingly unimpressed of what was going on in the room. He mounted
the next apparatus and leaned forward until his torso was resting on what
usually would have been the tank cover. The monks put his naked feet into
stirrups on both sides.
Then Trent's hips were lifted and the Speedo slip was stripped down to his
knees. One of the monks guided the black stud's 12-inch cock into a silicon
covered sheath that was built in the saddle.

The big black body was then fixed with broad leather straps across the back
and the narrow waist and across the slightly spread thighs.

A monk entered some commands into a keyboard and the machine started to buck
in a rhythmic rocking motion. Hank couldn't believe what happened right in
front of his eyes, but it was obvious that the hunky Linebacker and the
other studs were milked by the machines. There were transparent hoses
entering the body of the apparatuses connecting to several glass containers.
Cum was slowly traveling through the hoses and dribbling into the
containers.

Trent's cock stiffened quickly inside the soft vibrating silicon sheath.
Then the whole saddle started to hum and vibrate. Quickly his entire body
was responding to the stimulations. His giggles turned to soft moans and
finally to guttural grunts. In no time his muscles went rigid.

"UUrgh," a stifled groan and the convulsions of the hunky body indicated his
climax. It had taken less than two minutes and his man juice was flowing
through the hoses into one of the glass containers and the machine went on.

When the thrill of his orgasm subsided Trent felt as if waking up from a
dream. He remembered the surprised look of his girlfriend Sue while he was
pounding her heavily. The horny fucker had mistakenly interpreted this as
the chick's reaction to his skilled love-making. A moment later when he was
cuming a leash was thrown around his throat. Strong hands forced the choking
football player's wrists behind his back and while he was still ejaculating
he felt a sting in his buttock. Then his world went dark.

The next memory was about the wrinkled face of a small Asian monk who held a
twinkling prayer wheel in front of his face.

Now he found himself once again strapped onto the fucking machine who had
milked an endless number of loads from his throbbing shaft. Trent couldn't
tell how long he was already riding the machine, but he felt caught in an
endless loop of climaxes. His daily life in the temple had faded away. He
realized again that he had been kidnapped and what was done to him.

"You assholes, let me go!" He tried to get up from the terrible thing that
was bucking and vibrating. His dick slipped halfway out from the sucking
sheath. For moments the muscular body was struggling against the straps.
Then without any emotions the monk hit the keyboard and the stirrups pulled
at his legs forcing his hips down and his dick back inside the pulsing
sheath. After his cock was well embedded the machine bucked with a number of
brutal shocks that almost ripped his dick off.

"Fuck! Oooh...shit," Trent winced in pain, but the Linebacker had learned his
lesson and quickly adapted to the rhythm of the machine. Now that his body
was perfectly synchronized with the mechanical rocking horse the next climax
followed promptly.  His boner was sliding in and out of the slippery silicon
casing. Each bucking motion both pulled and squeezed his itching nuts and
the vibrations made his skin tingle.

"Ohh shit...uhhh yeahhh," The monks watched satisfied the tamed hunk accepting
his fate. It had always been like this. The black stud and his well-built
white fellow subjects surrendered usually quickly to the stimulations of the
machines devilish designed to exploit male sexual urges.

"Damn you all, I'm going to cumm...huhhhh," After the football player had
spilled his second load, another command was entered and now the machine was
working even more intense.
The container was replaced with a new empty one. The extracted semen was
mixed with the cum milked from the other men and added dribbling into a line
of ceramic jugs. Hank recognized in disbelieve the jugs in which the daily
protein shakes were served with the food. Apparently the studs were fed with
their own man juice.

"Oh fuck, but th-that's wrong. It shouldn't be like that, uhhhh...," Trent was
approaching his third climax.

"Aargh, shit it feels so fuckin' hot," he was soaked in sweat and felt
exhausted, but he knew that the process would only stop after his nuts were
thoroughly drained. He had no choice but to surrender to the erotic
stimulation.

"I'm cummmmin' ohh nooo," The heart throb and womanizer would have never
believed that he would voluntarily fuck a machine, but there he was: The
sweat glistening athletic body was glued to the saddle.

"Huh...huh...huhhh," His hips were undulating and saliva was dropping from his
gasping mouth.

"Oh shit..pleeze stop...no more," he was begging now. The last cumshots were
encouraged by a monks who inserted a finger up his exposed ass and rubbed
his pleasure button until the man howled in sheer lust.

It took 40 minutes to milk the stud dry. By then the beefy body was hanging
limp on the saddle. The monks had no trouble lifting the exhausted
Linebacker from the machine. The container with he freshly milked man seed
was carefully stored in cooling liquid, while the shivering stud was led
towards the exit.

Trent looked confused and needed the monks' support who led him out. As his
arousal was subsiding his mind was quickly changing back to the daily
routines and his life at the temple. The memories of his former life drifted
away

Quickly Hank closed the door. Now he knew for sure that this facility was
definitely not part of the USMC and he knew that he himself was nothing but
a captive. He was rushing back to his room, cautious not to be caught. As
long as he was able to move within this facility he would be able to gather
intelligence. Once he was back in his hammock he lay back closed his eyes
and tried to analyze what he had just witnessed.

The temple served another purpose than worshipping. The athletic hunks, kept
in top shape, were apparently systematically milked, however, the monks were
giving an ominous preference only to the semen that was collected after two
cum shots. Hank could not fathom any reason, but he sensed that this was
important findings already.
Another strange reaction was the short but intense attempt of resistance he
had witnessed. It looked as if the state of orgasm had triggered that
reaction, but again Hank could not fathom why and there was no explanation
for the almost childish behaviour he had noticed with both Chet and Trent in
their daily routines. The afternoon passed and finally right before sunset
Eng-Lok passed by.

"Master Kim told me that you are going to have a meeting with Grandmaster
Gao-Ban. This is great honor, you should clean up before you see the Abbott
and I will get you some more appropriate clothes for this joyous occasion,"
Eng-Lok said excited.

While Hank was showering, his mind was racing. The Abbott might have the
clues he was missing so far. Even more, should he manage to overpower the
Abbott and take him hostage there could be an opening for a quick escape.

Back to his room, he found the new clothes that Eng-Lok had promised him. It
was a yellow silk vest with cutoff sleeves that hardly closed over his
sculpted chest. There was as well a pair of marine-blue baggy silk trousers
that felt comfortably cool on his skin.

Eng-Lok nodded approvingly and picked the hunky Marine up for his first
meeting with the temple's Abbott. They walked across the quiet temple ground
and arrived at a huge rectangular shaped building.

"Please take of your shoes," Eng-Lok pointed to Hank's sandals.

On bare feet Hank entered the long dark hall and was welcomed by a chorus of
monks who were repeating monotonous incantations. The air was heavy with the
sweet smell of incense burning on several small altars along the wood
paneled walls. The floor was covered with black high-polished tiles that
felt cool under his bare feet after he left his sandals at the entrance. The
hall was lit by hundreds of small oil lamps that flickered above the altars.

Suspiciously the Marine was walking to the end of the hall, where he
recognized Kim dressed in black robes. Waiting respectfully in a distance
was another Asian man wearing one of the overalls he had seen at the
scientists in the research facility below the temple.

Besides Kim sitting on his knees was a small monk dressed in yellow and red
robes. When Hank approached he realized that the monk was a midget and not
just small because he was kneeling. His cheeks were wrinkled and a white
long goatee spread fom his chin.

"Good evening Master Sergeant O'Dowerty, " the monk welcomed him with a
surprising deep melodious voice," my name is Gao-Ban. I am the Abbott of
this temple. You know Master Kim already I presume and this is Dr. Takashima
from Japan." He nodded to the waiting scientist.

"Please make yourself comfortable," the Grandmaster pointed to a small
pillow in front of him. He played with a silk shawl letting it slip through
his hands.

"What is going on? This is not a US base, huh?" Hank didn't sit down.
Neither of the men was armed. He noticed a heavy bronze ring that was
embedded into the tiled floor right in front of the Abbott.

An angry look appeared on Kim's face at the Americans obvious disrespect for
the temple's Grand-Master.

"I know you have a lot of questions and I assure you, they all will be
answered in due time," Gao-Ban said friendly, "please sit down and have a
cup of tea."

"Save your fuckin' tea for yourself, I ain't drinking your spiked stuff,"
Hank replied hostile. He couldn't believe how stupid these people were.
There were no weapons and no guards. Dr. Takashima was too far away and he
could take the Abbott down even before Kim would be able to interfere. The
old midget wouldn't offer any resistance to a well-trained Marine fighter.
Hank's muscles tensed while he prepared himself to attack.

"Master Sergeant O'Dowerty you are upset, I can see that," the Abbott said
calmly," please accept my hand of friendship to welcome you properly at our
humble temple." He extended one of his wrinkled hands.

"Fine, have it your way," Hank bowed down and seized the hand. The Abbott
grabbed his hand with a surprising power. Hank looked up and saw a
triumphant smile in the eyes of Gao-Ban. The silk shawl was sliding around
his wrists and before Hank realized it he had been tethered to the bronze
ring with the silken bond.

"Fuck! What are you doing?," forced to bow Hank pulled furiously but the
silk proofed to be strong and cut painfully into his wrists. Then he felt
somebody seizing his hips from behind. Eng-Lok loosened the cotton belt and
the baggy pants fell down to his ankles.

"Shit! I'll get you for that," Hank struggled to free his ankles.

"Dr. Takashima, please introduce our rude guest to the Dragon's Claw." Kim
said, ignoring the cursing marine.

"Certainly Master Kim," Dr. Takashima went to one of the altars and opened a
big jar. He reached inside and produced a strange looking device that was
apparently stored in oil. The oil was dripping to the tiled floor while the
Japanese walked behind the struggling Marine.

"What the fuck is that?" Hank tried to look over his shoulder, desperately
fighting to free his hands.

The device was made of dark metal with an awkward reddish glow in the
flickering light of the oil lamps. The front part was shaped like a dragon
head with a gaping mouth. This continued in a kind of flexible sheath made
of black leather with woven threads of copper wire. Attached to it was the
dragon's tail, split into a short abutment carved from Ivory and the conic
actual tail. It was carved from Jade and about 2/3 inch in diameter at its
widest point ending a raised bump at its ½ inch tip. Both parts of the
device were connected by a curved handle.

The doctor caught Hank's dangling cock in the lower end of the leather tube
and slipped it over the hefty shaft.

"Fuck get that off me!" Ignoring Hank's attempts to kick, the Japanese
positioned the shorter abutment between Hank's nuts and his asshole. The
doctor guided the bigger part of the tail into the ass cleft. Hank felt the
tip of the tail slipping between is cheeks and poking against the sphincter.

"No! You fuckin' bastard, stop ...oh shittt...aaaarghh!" He tried to clench is
buttocks but the oil had made the invader as slippery as a snake and before
Hank realized it, the tail  was already half way up his chute.

"Huhh...noo..fuckkkk..uuunnnhhh," His stuffed rectum contracted instinctively,
drawing the rest of the Jade tail all the way up the anal canal.

"You see, the Dragon's Claw is anatomically tailored to the male body,
driven solely by a man's sphincter muscle contractions." Dr. Takashima
explained.

"Aargh..nnnooo!" While the tail's tip adjusted itself on top of Hank's
prostrate the Ivory knob of the abutment was pressed deftly under his
scrotum against the perineum aiming at the pleasure spot from the outside.

"Oh shit!" Hank's dick suddenly flared and filled the leather sheath and the
crimson mushroom head appeared in the gaping dragon mouth which locked in
place right into the groove below the coronal ridge of the bloated dick
head.

"It fits you well, you should feel the effects rather soon," The doctor
checked that the leather straps that connected the tail to the tube were
separating the balls and released the device from his hands.

"Fuck, what is goin' on?" Hank's hips started a bucking motion.

The devilish claw took his body's contractions and transferred them into a
pivoting action stimulating the prostate, perineum and anal canal at the
same time. Tingling sensations spread through the trapped penis.

"What pervert thing is that? Get that off my fuckin' dick!" Hank snorted
while he was tearing at the silken bond. His wild struggle did not get him
free but inside of him the sphincter muscle contracted vigorously and sucked
the claw right up his rear chute until it rested against the prostate.

"Aargh, shit! It fucks my ass," Hank was writhing in lustful agony.
Because the claw was suspended unstably within his ass, the slightest
muscular action was directly transmitted throughout the rectum, onto the
prostate and the perineum.

"Unng!" The hunk felt his sphincter convulse from these sensations and this
started again the chain reaction making his knees buckle.

"Oh noo!"Globs of pre-cum appeared in the piss slit. Hank couldn't believe
it when he detected the first well known signs that he was about to shoot
his man juice. Never before when he was jacking off or with a woman or a man
had he reached climax so fast.

"Uhhhh..." Kim watched in glee Hank's astonished expression when he felt the
warm pulse of his semen mounting inside his shaft. The pulsations went on
and on. After the first few mild ones the hunk was sucked into a series of
massive convulsions that left him totally helpless.

Kim knew this helpless expression all too well. He had seen it countless
times already in the faces of the hapless young men who had been hauled in
by their commandos. Although this big marine with his red brown hair was an
outstanding specimen, he would finally surrender to the dragon claw as the
many jocks before him. Looking at the flushed face of the gasping Marine,
Kim's mind traveled back in time to the day when it all began.

He had been captured by the Americans, while he was trying to steal one of
their latest target control units(TCU) from a base in South Korea. What
could have been the end of his career, turned into a major success when he
managed to escape. He didn't only bring one of the highly desired TCUs, but
as well Chet Durango, the decorated Marine Captain who had captured him
before. The North Korean propaganda machinery had exploited the story of the
caught American spy to the embarrassment of the US government.

North Korean relations to the Americans had gone sour, when Washington tried
to neutralize the North Korean uranium research program. Kim knew, however,
that the biotechnology research program of the regime in Pyongyang was
posing by far a greater threat than the nuclear development projects.

He had met Dr. Takashima, a Japanese who had defected to North Korea after
the Japanese government had shut down his research on human genes. Given the
relations between Korea and Japan were not without strain, it was a
remarkable move by Dr. Takashima and it was rewarded by Pyongyang. North
Korea didn't show much concern for human ethics and soon Dr. Takashima could
continue his research.

When the Japanese explained to Kim the concept of biological weapons that
would selectively affect only certain genders or races, the Korean was
excited. Takashima told him that given a sufficient supply of raw material
he would be able to produce the first generation of his bio-weapons.

Kim knew immediately that a donor of raw material was already in his
custody. Since the Marine Captain had made out with his girlfriend in front
of the Korean, the Colonel knew that the American was driven by an almost
insatiable sex drive.

As long the hunky Marine was controlled by the drug that Kim had brought
from the laboratory at the US base, it hadn't been a problem to extract
substantial amounts of his cum. Dr. Takashima's research, however, revealed
that the high amount of protein within the American's seed was rendering
most of the semen useless for the development of genetic controlled weapons.
Finally, it turned out that at least two cum-shots were required to clear
the protein from the system and to collect semen of the appropriate quantity
and purity.

Although Chet Durango was hung like a stallion, it soon occurred that more
donors were needed. The entire project was in jeopardy because it was
obvious that they hadn't sufficient amounts of drugs to control a large
number of young powerful males.

Again, luck was on Kim's side. He remembered the old temple at his home
village Suyang-dong. In this time the temple was just a miserable bunch of
rundown ramshackle buildings, far different from the well-restored
dormitories, building complexes and  the modern laboratories and research
facilities that had been built since.

The monks were said to possess legendary mind control powers. After a
meeting with the old Abbott the Colonel decided to conduct a practical test.
Kim took the Marine and a very skeptical Dr. Takashima to the temple. It was
on the evening of this very day, when Chet surrendered to the Dragon Claw.

It had been one legendary Korean ruler who had ordered the monks of the Dark
Moon temple to design a torturing device that didn't injure, didn't kill but
produced nevertheless the desired results.
The monks had knowledge that too much pleasure could overload the nervous
system and cause a subject to surrender in the same way to pleasure as
torture forced to surrender to pain.

With the declining importance of the temple in the centuries to come, both
wisdom and knowledge of the monks had been forgotten in the outside world.
The Claw had been a mere artifact suffering from corrosion and negligence,
rotting somewhere in the temple's archives.

Chet hadn't had a shot of the mind control drug for some days and was all
his cocky macho self again. Kim was forced to hold the muscular Marine at
gunpoint and he knew that Chet would use the slightest opportunity to turn
on him in order to release his vengeance.
First the Marine had laughed when he met the Abbott, who was a midget with
shabby robes. He had continued to laugh when his genitals were strapped into
the dusty rusty device by two elderly monks with a gentle smile. But then
the laughter had subsided and the Marine had uttered a few nervous grunts.
Kim couldn't believe that the ancient device would work so efficiently but
the knowing smile in the Abbott's face told him it was true.

It took only 10 minutes until an expression of shocked astonishment had
appeared on Chet's face. Then there were curses and cum was gushing from the
throbbing cock.
The swearing turned to moans and after another 30 minutes, the Marine was
down on his fours, slipping on his own cum. He was now pleading that the
Claw was removed.

The moaning, helpless bucking man was unable to resist when the monks forced
him to face the old Abbott. Gao-Ban presented a golden prayer wheel with
precious inlaid emeralds. A chorus of monks hidden behind a heavy curtain
started to chant. Before the surprised American realized what was going on
he was mesmerized by both the monks' monotonous chants and the twinkling of
the relentless spinning prayer wheel.

The Abbott had explained to Kim, that men were most susceptible to mind
control in the very moment of sweet and agonizing pleasure that made them
mellow and kept them weak. That kind of mind control was most intriguing to
Kim as it could offer a replacement for the drugs they had used so far ...

A roar from Hank interrupted Kim's thoughts. `That went fast, as usual', he
smiled knowingly.

"Oh Shit!I .... I can't hold it! Here I fuckin' cummm!" The ancient device
triggered a full-body shaking, continuous orgasm that left the big marine
howling in primal lust.

But he was in for a devilish surprise. Just when he was about to release his
boiling man seed his sphincter contracted to prepare for the final relief.
Now the copper wires woven within the structure of the leather sheath had
reached their limit and stopped the hunk's shaft from expanding any further.
The dragon's mouth tightened and was digging into the groove below the cock
head. The flow of pre-cum stopped as the urethra was sealed.

"Uugh, shiiiit!" Being beyond the point of no return the hunk's balls
contracted and triggered the ejaculation. Hank's eyes bulged, when his cum
flow was jammed painfully within his throbbing shaft, but the stimulations
in his ass and from the hypersensitive prostrate kept him going.

"Aaaarghh!" a desperate, furious roar signaled the unavoidable climax. As
the urethra was sealed at the dick head the churning cum had no other way to
go and spilled back into Hank's bladder.

The powerful body was hit by an agonizing shock-wave forcing the big Marine
down on his knees. This drove the Jade pole even further up his chute and
the sizzling prostrate twitched helpless between the abutment and the tail's
tip.

The next orgiastic pulse squeezed the semen with even bigger power up his
flared shaft and this time the strangling sheath gave way.

"Uuurghhh!" Cum erupted with vigorous force from the crimson piss slit and
splashed audibly on the tiled floor.

"Fuck! What have you perverts done to me?" Hank shook his head desperately
trying to clear his dazed mind. Smoke of incense filled his lungs making him
cough.

"You have a strong will power, Marine, just as Rashad has told, but you will
finally surrender," Kim held a small spray bottle to his mouth and pushed
the nozzle. The bottle contained a sample of Dr. Takashima's infamous
extracts. It tasted slightly metallic, bitter, but apart from that there was
no sensible effect. This would be different once the drug came in contact
with the gasping hunk.

Kim reached down and forced Hank's head up, bending it into his neck. The
Marine was still caught in a sexual delirium and gurgled in surprise when
Kim closed the half-opened mouth with a firm kiss. Hank wanted to pull back,
but then ...

"Mmpff...", the kiss took instantly all fight from him. He indulged in the
sweet taste of the tongue that was battling with his own. He felt an
overwhelming attraction to the Asian who was kissing him so passionately.
All his remaining strength and will power was sucked from him with the deep
probing kiss. Kim enjoyed kissing the hunky man into submission. Somehow he
regretted not being alone with the American. He knew that the stud was all
his by now and that he could have fucked him senseless. But there was time
for this later. He pushed the limp body away from him.

"Ohhh..." Hank was crouching at his feet, softly moaning. He was primed for
the taking. Kim gave Eng-Lok a nod.

Eng-Lok reached under Hank's chin and raised the dangling head, forcing him
to look at a fast spinning golden shining and emerald twinkling prayer
wheel. Instantly the wheel seized his gaze.

"How old are you?" the Abbott asked in a soft monotonous voice.

"What the f... I am 36," Hank hollered watching fascinated as the emerald
sparks whirled and consolidated in a green sphere.

"When did you lose your virginity?"

"None of you bus..., uhm 13 yeah I was 13," Hank gasped, shuddering from
another approaching climax.

"How did it happen?" the Abbott asked.

"It , it was ...oh fuck ... with our neighbors wife... " and Hank told them the
story of the muscular teen he had been. Looking three years older than he
actually was, he had been seduced by the neighbor's wife. The memory of that
warm summer afternoon, when he learned that older women were most
experienced lovers and that even a youthful cock would finally go limp,
pushed him over the edge into another climax.

"Unnghhh..." Hank felt his warm cum drooling down his thigh.

"You are 30 years old, isn't it?" the Abbott asked

"No, no, uhm well I'm not sure ... yes must be like that, ohhh shit I'm so
fuckin' horny.," Hank almost wailed.

Step by step, skillfully guided by the Abbott, Hank was lead backwards in
time.

He recalled, how he had been overpowered by Rashad the Iraqi warlord. It
triggered a hard cumshot that made his body twist when he relived the
terrible moment, being trapped with his dick in his enemy's ass who hooked
him on to an anesthetic machine.

By now Hank's gaze was entirely caught by the spinning prayer wheel. The
Abbott had convinced him being a 20 year old twink. His mind opened wide and
he eagerly told the stories of his sexual adventures. His macho ego was
virtually ripped from his personality when the Abbott forced him to reveal
again and again the most embarrassing experiences he had to suffer.

The Asians listened interested to his humiliation of being caught by Tyler
and his gang mounting a phantom mare.

"We should try to get some of these sperm collectors, " Kim told Dr.
Takashima," they might come handy for our purposes."

Finally Hank felt like he was 13 years old. He was no more match for the
Grand-Master. Gone was the military training. Lost was the experience from
the many battlefields on which he had fought. Forgotten were all the women
and men he had fucked. He didn't even remember the neighbor's wife and after
a few instructions from the midget he didn't know how to fuck anymore:
Master Sergeant Hank O'Dowerty was mentally a virgin. His front head rested
on the tiled floor. He was sobbing from exhaustion and a poodle of cum had
gathered below his belly and between his knees. A pair of tiny emptied nuts
was hanging loosely in the shrunken shriveled nut sac.

The Dragon Claw detached itself from the rapidly deflating dick. The Jade
tail flipped with a soft plop from his ass and the device rattled to the
floor.

"Again an amazing display of your successful work Dr. Takashima," Kim said
to the Japanese who bowed respectfully.

"I couldn't have done it, without our support, Colonel Kim," he said humbly.

"We need to work on the trance, however, the subjects are still evading from
the mind conditioning once we make them reach climax." Takashima said.

"Don't worry too much about this," Kim grinned," they must feel in
paradise."

"This boy," he pointed at Hank, "will be a prime donor. He will wake from
his trance at the moment of every cumshot, thus his life will be a
continuous cum circle. Just as he always wanted it to be. However once he is
drained he will quickly sink back into trance like all the others."

"Aww..that hurts!" Hank tried to free his wrists.

"Now you should pay your respects to Master Kim," The Abbott released Hank's
wrists from the silk bond.

"You will call me Master Kim, understood?" Kim said to the Marine who was
struggling getting back on his feet.

"Yes, Master Kim, I understand that, " Hank replied with a boyish smile
while he was staggering with the pants around his ankles.

"Here these are for you my boy," Eng-Lok offered Hank a skimpy pair of black
Speedos and helped him to put them on. The depleted nuts and the deflated
dick fit well into the tiny fabric.

"Thanx," Hank said happily and was rewarded with a slap across his face.

"You will address me respectfully as Uncle Eng-Lok, understood." The monk
said sternly.

"Yes Sir, uhm I mean yes Uncle Eng-Lok, sorry..." Hank had almost tears in his
eyes.

"Now my, my...,' Eng-Lok smiled friendly again," why don't we go back to your
room and may be your friend Chet will play a nice game with you, will you?"

"Oh wow, that will be fun... uhm, yes thank you Uncle Eng-Lok," Hank replied
shyly.

"May I leave Grand-Master Gao-Ban?" Hank asked.

"First you clean up the mess you have made," Kim pointed to the cum-covered
tiles on the floor. The Asians watched in glee as the big stud went down on
his knees and without protest started to gobble up his own spunk. His firm
buttocks were raised high and the skimpy brief gave a clear view to the ass
crack. Finally the floor shone squeaky clean.

"May I leave now Master Kim?" Hank asked pleadingly, licking a few globs of
cum from the corners of his mouth.

"Yes my son, you are done here," Kim nodded.

"Thank you, Master Kim," Hank bowed politely to both Kim and to the Abbott
and followed Eng-Lok out of the hall.

(to be continued ... )