This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
A Foresmark New Boy: foresmark-newboy.html
Go All The Way: go-all-the-way.html
Keywords: Mt, mt, cons ws,whipping, oral, mast, torture, pow
United States Presidential Executive Order #137099
Washington, D.C., The White House Press Briefing Room …
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States, Glenn W. Bushnell!"
And so the late morning White House press corps and media briefing started. The 41st president of the United States stepped to the lectern, waved to the many familiar members of the media and started to field questions.
"Yes, Mr. Bailey of the Washington Post," the President said with a wan smile, briefly pointing his finger.
Bailey stood, looked at his notebook, and fired off the first question of the meeting:
"Mr. President, is it true that your sixteen year old son, Mark, is not only gay, but has turned up missing and that he has been frequenting gay leather bars as a minor somewhere in Colorado instead of attending his boys boarding academy school? Is there something wrong with your son's Secret Service detail Sir?"
The entire room became instantly animated, if not agitated and very uncomfortable for everyone, but especially for the very conservative and very Republican President Bushnell.
Denver, Colorado …
Hitching a ride with a guy in a truck to get from Broadmoor Boys Academy near Colorado Springs to Denver and S/M Master Mr. Parks' Denver suburban neighborhood had been so much easier than he had thought it would be. Evading three Secret Service agents before that had been much more fun than it should have been. And, it really was not about Mark's hardcore, rough and nasty sexual thoughts and fantasies, either. Those were just hormones; those were easy to understand, especially given Mark Bushnell's sharp and way above average mind and intelligence.
The fact remained that hard and rough sex has nothing to do with real love, romance and relationship. Simply accepting himself as a boy who wanted to love other boys and not girls, now, that was the hard part and not even the son of a sitting U.S. President was going to be spared any of that heady angst.
Couple all that with an internationally powerful father who has a difficult personal problem with your apparent and so-called "lifestyle choice," a national media and White House press corps who treat you as a circus side show to the main event and then add a suspiciously far too large group of "friends" at school who happily stick you with an unwanted celebrity status that nobody could possibly wish for themselves voluntarily, and bingo! Mark's self-image was bound to take a big step downward.
So maybe that was a part of what being shackled and spread-eagled onto Mr. Parks' St. Andrews Cross was all about, just letting go and zoning out of life's little difficulties? If so, then thank God for small favors – well, not small! Mark Bushnell's dick had never been quite this hard before, and not because he had not tried and certainly not because of who he with. Parks was a great Master of things edgy and raunchy and so much the better, but after that, Mark was not unhappy that to get what he wanted as the bottom guy, his eyes had to be facing away from the top guy.
At any rate, it was a good thing Mark was nearly six foot even and at least looked eighteen as well as has having an NSA produced fake ID identifying him as eighteen-year-old Mark Jones; not very creative, but effective. It pays to know things about people in very high places in his father's bullshit administration, well "bullshit" according to his "lifestyle choice-challenged" son.
What did Parks care? He really didn't. This was a great lark, it was. Most of his customers needed to have a bag over their heads, as if he had a choice in the matter. He did, but that wasn't the point was it? This young and very attractive guy actually had actually shown up and asked to try for "the works," and got the works as requested thank you very much and he was just about to get the grand BIG finale as well!
Let's see, let's count up the tab so far: a nice round of piss, this kid's own actually, having been collected in a jar and then splashed here and there on the boy's face and body as requested, but not ingested. Then was a fairly good round of paddle swats on a really hot pair of mostly willing ass cheeks that was followed by a good two dozen leather strap cuts. That had all set the stage nicely. Not bad for a self-identified first timer, hey?
And that was the other thing. Mark Bushnell had never been close to a leather bar in his life. That was purely the invention of media assholes, not reality. Mark was not entirely inexperienced, just mis-experienced. Finding another boy near to his own age to "whip his ass" and then snatch his virginity away as well as keep his big mouth shut about it was going to be impossible.
Oral sex was so much easier to find anyway and really didn't carry with it so many bragging rights for the taker. Two other attempts at finding a "leather daddy" had both aborted into ridiculous folly, so finally, a little action thank you very much! Just why did Parks half to look like a really fake copy of that dude in those classic household spray product commercials for Mr. Clean?
"You like this, boy? Huh? Beg for it!!" Parks had hissed at every stage of the treatment, loving the fact that this hot, supposedly legal boy comes literally out of nowhere, looks him up, and is going for it the first time! Shit yes!! Funny, it seemed that Mr. Parks did not otherwise get out much to have not recognized Mark Bushnell rather than the fictional Mark Jones. No matter.
"Please, yes! Rape me, Sir! Rape my hot young ass please! PLEASSSE!" Mark yelled, actually starting to enjoy himself quite a lot, having no idea if he could really take in any of Parks' big hard dick. The piss thing he had tried for himself, but having another guy do it with you was so much better. It was the same with the paddling and strapping. Do you know how hard and boring it is to try and find a private place in a boys boarding school to do that kind of noisy activity to yourself and not get caught or worse?
Parks grinned, "You got it faggot!!"
The Oval Office after the fucked up news briefing fell apart shortly after Mr. Bailey's question …
"I want answers, and I want them right now!! Where is my son??" Bushnell yelled at his staff, which now included the heads of the Secret Service, NSA and FBI. Funny, the CIA was missing so far. Bushnell decided not to waste time firing any staff for the ridiculously embarrassing question from Mr. Bailey and it had not been the first time that Mark had successfully evaded Secret Service agents; mainly, Glenn Bushnell thought, to piss off his own father, him.
The RNC was already crawling up his ass about the leather bar accusation, not to mention the Christian conservatives on the far right of his voting bloc base. Clearly, something had to be done and done fast. The gay and lesbian organizations and press were also having far too much fun at his expense without all this new stuff and stories about fucking leather bars!!
Suddenly, General Francis J. Riddick from the Pentagon appeared in back of the pale and nervous crowd of Bushnell's "yes-men," and with him was a Captain Jake Shiller, an active U.S. Navy Seal field operative, a military prodigy of sorts, having completed sixty-nine Black Ops CIA missions in the past eight years from ages twenty to his now merely twenty eight years. Whether Bushnell was going to like it or not, the good General was pretty sure he had the solution for the President's problem. The solution was standing right next to him in the person of Captain Jake Shiller.
Bushnell's Chief of Staff, Yancy Potter, spotted General Riddick and motioned him over. The General whispered something in the staffer's ear and then followed a short but heated discussion between the two men, after which Potter shrugged and walked over to the President and started whispering in his ear. Bushnell's face turned red and the discussion was even more animated than with the General, but in the end, everyone else was thrown out of the Oval Office but Bushnell and Captain Shiller.
"OK Shiller, give it to me straight!" And then the President blushed and stammered, "You know what I mean!" and Shiller didn't even crack a smile as he explained "the plan" in vague detail and then concluded, "Sir, I don't have one political bone in my body, and nothing to offer other than a solid attempt on my part to personally keep your son out of trouble for the remainder of your administration. It's a yes or no situation, Sir."
Glenn Bushnell sighed. Other than for appearances and political manipulation and expediency, he personally really did not give a rat's ass care about heterosexual or homosexual or any- sexual for anyone else; but when it came to Mark, his own son, well that was private matter of a different sort.
In the end, it was all rhetoric, but tell that to your son when your most ardent and vocal supporters are yelling some pretty raw anti-gay epitaphs in support of your administration. Nonetheless, why did the kid have to turn out wanting to screw with boys? The rumors back at his old alma mater were flying right and left, not a very good thing at all.
Mostly, Glenn Bushnell simply needed to have his son stop evading his Secret Service details and embarrassing his Presidency. Yes, believe it or not, he wanted Mark to be happy despite all of the above. So, if having Captain Shiller somehow match wits with Mark on whatever kind of level the two mutually might want, then so be it, just spare the details please, too much information already! And stop the god-damned embarrassing boarding school escape antics!
"OK Captain, the order is given; Operation Offspring is a go!" and Shiller departed, headed out the White House entrance that he had originally come from and then went directly into a Black Hawk helicopter. All Shiller had to do was nod at the lower ranking aviators and they gave the thumbs up. They were off to Andrews where a fully fueled C-130 Hercules awaited them for the several hour trip to Buckley Air Force Base in Aurora, adjacent to Denver. It was now 17:00, Eastern standard local time.
A Denver, Colorado suburban neighborhood, 19:30, Mountain time …
"OK, you can stay with me the night, but that's all," Parks said to Mark, starting to get a bit suspicious. Mark did not really want to do that, but it was late. There would be hell to pay as it was. The pissed off Secret Service agents would already have his school lit up like the Fourth of July.
He would go back to school in the morning all right, but despite his lack of looks, Parks had actually turned out to be a pretty OK sex top. Well, the attempt at a virginal cherry busting had been an abandoned and painful first attempt, but that's sometimes the way first times go and that despite Parks' hour long efforts to use small dildos and such to prepare Mark's butthole for the attempt. Anyway, after the fact, Mark wanted to stay over in part to try and lose his virginity one more time, as it would be quite a while before he would get the chance again if he knew his Dad.
Yep, Parks would let the kid stay until morning, but something was just not quite right, but then again, the kid had seemed ravenous for it all and he was very good looking, not the type of guy that Parks usually got into his house. Oh well, may as well enjoy it.
Mark smiled, "So like? Will you try and fuck me again, for real this time?" choosing to ignore the butthole soreness from the last aborted attempt that really only ended up with two fingers reaming him out instead of Park' dick.
Parks chuckled, "You mean tonight, again?"
Mark nodded and went for it, "Yes, I mean tonight, hell, right now!"
Parks could not believe his ears. Was it Christmas already? Parks gave Mark one of his famous sardonic grins, "Get your faggoty ass downstairs you little punk, we'll get it done this time!"
Mark nodded and gave his best fake "Yes Sir!" and ran downstairs for effect. Parks let him disappear then even looked out the curtains of his home window and shook his head side to side, "I must be getting old," laughed and followed his quarry.
The same Denver, Colorado suburban neighborhood, 20:00, Mountain time …
Funny, nobody, not even Parks, noticed the three huge black unmarked vans that casually drove into Mr. Parks' neighborhood and parked on the curb, just a few doors down from Parks' home at just the beginning of dusk; much less the five fully armed CIA operatives in addition to a tranquilizer-gun armed certain U.S. Navy Seal Captain by the name of Shiller.
They all easily gained stealthy access into Parks' house, found the basement located dungeon downstairs, then quickly and quietly immobilized Mr. Parks into forced slumber with another agent's tranquilizer gun.
"Hey, what the fuck?" were the only four words that the trussed Mark Bushnell would remain conscious to utter while facing the wall in back of the St. Andrew's Cross as he heard the dull thud of Parks' body falling to the floor, still waiting for Parks to try and fuck him out of his virginity. That was about two seconds before the strong sedative chemicals in his dart took full effect.
* * * * * * * * * *
Hours later …
Mark startled and awoke out of his chemically induced sleep, prone and still butt-ass naked, just as he had been when he was back at Parks' house in the quiet Denver suburb. What was that irritating buzzing around his head and why was the air so damn humid and heavy? Colorado was dry as a bone!
"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!? WHERE THE FUCK AM I YOU PRICK, PARKS!?" Mark jumped up and screamed, suddenly realizing he was outdoors, not in, much less not getting his ass fucked for the first time while strapped up on Parks' cross device!
Then Mark's blood chilled, as if it could do that in the night's heavy layer of humid heat and he quickly stooped down for cover, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. This wasn't Colorado, that was for sure. Was he even in the United States? This was jungle, was there jungle in the U.S.? Maybe Louisiana, yea, that was it. Or Florida? No, not Florida. Mark had been to the Everglades. This was not them, but he looked around for alligators nonetheless and snakes too! Mark didn't like those creatures, not really.
Very close by and well protected by the cover of night, thick dense jungle and his usual stealthy recon gear and camouflaged clothing, Captain Jake Shiller smiled as he looked at Mark's naked body and frustrated gesticulations through his night vision goggles. He had been the one to nail Mark's right upper butt-cheek with the tranq-gun, bulls-eye, as they say, but Mark would not know that yet.
The rest had been a standard "cap and nap" operation, air-lifted to perfection and the boy's limp body laid gently into his new cradle by Shiller himself as Shiller and his men then dispersed and waited for Mark to awaken and start to get used to his new home for the next two weeks or so.
"That's right my boy, take it all in, keep those senses on alert. You're just getting started. If you think that skank Parks was fun, wait until you get a load of me and my men. Welcome to your training camp Mr.Bushnell, in my back yard or that's right, you've been here before, you just don't remember," Jake whispered to himself as he made sure Mark was not otherwise too disturbed, then recalled the other fun details of Mark Bushnell's young life in relationship to where the disoriented teen now squatted on the C-130's landing sled.
Mark finally calmed himself and then saw where he was squatting, on some kind of metal frame and what was that? A fucking huge parachute!? Mark sighed, "God-damn son of a bitch father of mine!"
Mark stood up against and screamed, "I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BITCH, DAD! THANKS A LOT YOU HOMOPHOBIC PIECE OF SHIT!" and then kicked at the metal frame and that hurt, a lot, and he started to hop around, holding his foot!
Jake had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud and quietly mouthed, "You tell him kid, bitch your Dad out, but enjoy it, because pretty soon, you'll hopefully realize that daddy is a pragmatist politician, an asshole pragmatist politician, but you get my point. I voted for the other guy. Even I can't pick my own boss, but you'll be just fine."
Apparently, Glenn Bushnell was not the only family pragmatist. Spying a dim light point ahead and starting to have to slap away irritating flying bugs and mosquitoes away from his otherwise still naked exposed skin, Mark decided to make for the light. That gave Jake a chance to try out his new assassination rifle laser sight device as he placed the red dot right on the back of Mark's neck.
"Keep going Squire, you are almost there my beauty, "Jake mumbled, enjoying the new equipment's deft visual qualities. "Squire" was the Secret Service codename for Mark. Glenn Bushnell's codename was, "Knight."
Then, when Mark had reached an unknowing and invisible checkpoint, the trap was sprung. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mark was surrounded by six tall camouflaged men, armed with dangerous weapons, all pointed at him. Mark's eyes grew wide, he put his hands up into the air and was so instantly terrified that he pissed himself, the warm liquid streaming down near his feet. This was not fun piss of course, no sexual fetish fun, no.
"Please, don't kill me!" his voice begged plaintively.
Captain Shiller's wide grin became solemn. All these edgy theatrics and the President's son's reactions had been planned and accounted for, but in many ways, Jake was not happy to have the boy have to feel terrified for his life for very long. Jake knew it would all be over soon, so he sighed,
"That's the way Gomez, fuck that bad boy up a little so he learns who not to mess with," and then Shiller turned over to his back, slowly dismantled and holstered his assassination rifle to separate parts and then slowly ate a field ration. Stage Two of the operation was now on the menu.
Not only were Mark's hands bound, but his feet and ankles were hobbled and he was carried like a sack of potatoes over one strong shoulder. Nobody said a word, certainly not Mark, but they treated him rather gently otherwise and if things had not been so frightfully stressful and bizarrely strange, he might easily have popped a boner at that point.
Mark eventually made that light point at what looked like a small compound or settlement, was unbound and then laid out sideways into a horizontal shallow iron barred cell complete with water and food that would not give away his captor's true nature, the top coffin-like door of the cage clanged shut. Mark was too frightened to ask questions or complain and the men offered no verbal explanations either.
At this point the President's son pretty much thought that this was not the doing of his father, that some malevolent gang of kidnappers had somehow found him, but for what purpose? A political statement? Ransom? The thrill of killing a "bastard" American? Would he live? Die?
"Thanks Dad for your wonderfully fucked up approach to American foreign policy!" Mark thought as he lay there, trying to concentrate on drinking the water and eating the bland but filling food, "It would seem that in flexing your imperial political muscles against dangerous anti-American powers, you may have just killed your own son, you stupid jerk!" and so it stood for the dispirited, frightened and angry young man.
After locking in the "prisoner" for the night, Sergeant Steven Gomez took some substantial food and drink out to his Captain's hidden outpost. Jake would not be risking discovery by Mark for quite a bit yet.
"So, how's our boy?" Jake asked as he and Gomez sat together and smoked a couple of cigars for a few long minutes.
"He's fine. He's pissed off and frightened out of his skull, but he'll survive the night," Gomez said, sending a dull white-blue plume into the humid warm jungle air.
Jake smiled, "Good, perfect in fact. Just be careful OK? He's a good kid, he just needs to learn how things are going to be for the rest of his daddy's time in office."
"Will do Cap'n," Gomez said, then stood up and lumbered back to the compound, checked on Mark who seemed to be sleeping and headed off to do the same.
The next morning, Mark was awoken by the looming figures of tallish back-lit men, his cage door opened and he was hauled up like he weighed fifty pounds instead of about 160. The men who were handling him were all white and not at all "native" to Mark's view, though he still didn't know where he was. But, come to find out, they identified themselves as international mercenaries, working for some Middle Eastern "boss." Mercenaries? Well if he was their prisoner, why had he been left on that metal sled thing and not already in shackles when he awoke?
Something was not right, but Mark was in no position to argue the point. The leader, the one they called Gomez, was the only one who talked to him as they trussed his naked body into four-point restraints on a rack-like thing standing up and fed him more bland and tasteless food and water, telling him that if he had to piss to just let it fly. Great!
Mark said nothing and counted six or seven of them, big strong guys too, all wearing what must be Army surplus, who really knew? Finally, Gomez came up to him, "So little boy, have you guessed where you are yet or better yet why?"
Why Mark said what he did, he would have no idea. He was dirty, frustrated, tired of bugs and bug bites and maybe he just wanted to get it over with, his sense of survival a bit lacking at the moment, "In your mother's back yard? Waiting for your father to come along, fuck her and then announce my ransom price to my Dad? Do you even know who I am?" came the smart-ass answer.
Jake Shiller was observing close enough to have heard everything that was said. He almost cracked up and thought to himself, "Good for you Mark, hope you like my man's response."
"Smart-ass huh? You're right about the ransom, but God knows why you're worth as much as they want. When my other team picked you up, they said you looked like some kind of submissive pussy faggot and smelled like piss! Is that what you like? To get pissed on?" Gomez said and grabbed at his own big package, "How about I piss on you and then you suck my dick, OK?"
"How about you fuck off!" Mark unwisely replied, though felt a bit simulated by the very lustful suggestions. From afar, Jake grinned and lazily groped at himself mumbling, "Nice answer kid. You got big balls to say that kind of thing from your disadvantage, fucking turns me on!"
Gomez smiled, "Did Mr. Candy Ass leather daddy whip your ass like I'm going to do right now?" and then whipping off his big thick black belt from his green camo-fatigues, doubled it up and walked in back of Mark, took aim and lashed into Mark's naked ass, ten times, hard, as the other men grinned, a few of them grabbing at their own packages, just as Jake was as each crack of each leather belt cut sent a round of searing pain through Mark's naked ass.
Mark bit his lower lip, wincing and squeezing his face. It was just as hard as Parks had whipped up on him the night before, if not more, but his response was not "Thank you sir," it came out either a very foolish or a very brave, grimacing, "That all you got!?"
"Whoa! You're a harder dude than I gave you credit for their Mr. Bushnell, making me plenty hard now!" Jake hissed and hoped for more action from afar as he contemplated pulling out his hard dick and having a nice wank for himself.
Gomez smiled, walked back around to in front of Mark's face, lit up a cigar, saw that Mark's penis was starting to get a little hard, reached for said penis and started to stroke it, blowing a blue plume of smoke in his face, "No, that's not all I got pussy boy, not at all!" then let go of Mark's penis, Mark feeling even more of that strange mix of anger and pleasure in the exchange.
Jake then grinned all the more from his hidden vantage point, pawing on his erect monster as he watched Gomez and his men take turns, some of them using their own belts to whip on Mark's ass some more, others to painfully pinch his nipples, roughly grab his balls and cock and all threatened to gang rape the boy. All Mark could do was wince, grimace, groan and yes, sometimes moan, some of his dignity giving into the stimulating erotic manhandling from his captors!
Gomez then cleverly thought to rig an old glass jar with Mark's penis dangling inside and waited for Mark to piss in it. The humorous thing for them and Jake, but not for Mark, was that Mark's penis stayed partially erect inside of the jar even as he pissed. Then Gomez took the yellow expelled urine and poured it all over Mark's head.
Jake looked on keenly, if not analytically, to more carefully gauge Mark's reactions. This was an important test, how the boy would respond to one of the more unusual exotic tortures using the boy's own body fluids against him. Mark shuddered at first. Parks had done this to him, but that was voluntary. This was against his will, but even that aspect was getting to his libido and he shuddered, but tried to look stoic and silently disgusted on the outside anyway.
Inside Mark's head however was a different story for awhile. Whoever these assholes were, well, they were a hell of a lot better looking and a much better bunch of "S/M masters" then that Parks guy. It was kind of a good turn-on even and that despite the screwed up circumstances, that is until the piss-stench on his body attracted flies and bugs of all kinds and Mark quickly just became abjectly miserable, his penis shrunk up tight to his pubes.
The selective abuse continued on intermittently into the evening of that night until two huge splashes of cold clean water finally provided some relief from his filthy stank just before they locked Mark up for the night. All Mark could do was put up with it, not daring to attract more attention. He had otherwise been left to his own thoughts all that day long, never questioned, nor did he verbally challenge any of them, wisely just keeping to himself.
Maybe Mark wouldn't take his creature comforts so lightly back home, if he ever got out of this mess that is. Sleep was furtive and disturbed by the small creatures of the dirt, crawling in and out of his cage and over his naked body, but he finally slept.
Then bright and early the next morning, Gomez and his men started all over with their loud threats of rape, toying with Mark's penis, making it hard, then soft, hard, then soft, never letting him ejaculate and fingering his hole, sometimes pushing fingers roughly in, then out of his rectum, laughing and making fun of him.
All of that abuse was in between hard painful butt whippings with one or the other of their many leather service belts across his bare ass! Then that was followed by the pissing thing one last time, his own urine randomly splashed on his head, face, front or back. The resultant bugs and stickiness that ensued once again soon lost its sexy tint.
"Well, the big boss is coming to see his little pet at last, so we got to get you all cleaned up!" Gomez said, relishing the irony of his statement at about 18:00, later that day. Mark said nothing, he didn't even nod. He was tired of the men teasing, poking and prodding with no real purpose, but was helpless to risk saying anything about it, other than to just get along.
The nice cooling and prolonged water bath was nice, so was the water to drink and finally some decent food. Who was this big boss? Would he finally receive news that this ordeal was all over or would things just get worse? In any case, when he seemed finally decent, the boy was put back into the stand-up four-point rack and the men seemed to leave him alone.
Then, awhile later, Gomez came up to him and set down something Mark did not like seeing. It was an old car battery with copper cables attached, "The boss is going to be late, said to loosen your tongue a bit, do a little screaming, you know, get into the mood?"
Mark's eyes got big, "Oh come on man! I can't take that! You know I can't! You'll kill me!" and true fear shook Mark's mind.
Jake carefully watched from his hidden outpost. This last part was the climax of stage two, stage three was right at the doorstep. Mark would very glad to see him all right! Finally, Gomez took up the copper cables and touched them. Sparks flew everywhere as the electricity sizzled!
"Nooo! Please Sir! Don't do that, that looks very dangerous!" and Mark was trembling.
"Oh yea! Fucking dangerous I would say!" Gomez grinned, then stepped towards Mark's balls and cock after another round of sparks!
Mark screamed, "My balls! NOOOO! Pleasee!" and Gomez touched the coppers to each other and sparks flew everywhere for the last time. Mark's face looked crushed and he felt like crying as Gomez got closer and closer and closer and then …
KABOOOOOOOM! A huge charge of planned TNT exploded nearby followed by engineered chaos. Mark Bushnell's body felt the resultant shockwave's physical impact which was closely followed by a horrific spike of awful emotional dread and confusion, higher even than he had suffered from Gomez's terrible looking car battery. Gomez in fact had dropped the battery and rapidly took flight and out of Mark's sight through large billows of rapidly expanding smoke which now filled the air distantly at the first, but now was also enveloping him.
Mark could barely make out the darting shadows of lowly stooped men, shouting and running to and fro for cover, firing off their automatic weapons.
"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!" Mark yelled at the top of his voice, desperately hoping for friendly rescue.
Shiller waited until the right moment and then the Superhero went into action. Suddenly Mark saw a dark clothed man rapidly approaching him, stooped far over for cover. Mark's helpless dread increased even more, that is until he was able to make out the familiar colors of a tiny American flag on Shiller's darkened camos. Was he just seeing things or was the American Cavalry indeed approaching!?
Shiller finally got up to Mark and started to untie him, "Mark Bushnell, I'm Captain Jake Shiller, U.S. Navy Seals and you're coming with me, Sir!"
This was like Christmas, New Years and his Birthday all wrapped into one joyous occasion.
"OH THANK GOD!" Mark blurted loudly with more emotion that he had ever experienced in his young life.
Even Jake Shiller felt a bit guilty then. Had this plan gone a little overboard? No matter, it was working, even if a bit over-dramatized. Finishing the release, Shiller put his arm across Mark's naked waist, "Keep low, keep up and keep quiet Sir! We have to head for the jungle before those mercenaries re-group and see us!"
Mark was still completely naked save for a pair of disgusting old tattered beat up leather shoes that the "mercenaries" had put on his feet just after his bath of cold water and did as he was told. The pair then stealthily disappeared from the diminished chaos, hurried through the remaining smoke and dipped into the surrounding dense jungle.
Shiller looked at the alert boy and put his finger to his lips as they headed through the initial thick jungle foliage to remind Mark that sound was still their enemy. Mark silently and very gratefully nodded, his heart pounding with excitement, knowing he was now safe and sound from his torturous captivity as they quickly slithered away from the compound.
Jake Shiller then led Mark Bushnell to a predetermined mostly hidden location where a shallow dirt culvert had been pre-prepared to nest the pair for a bit of planned bonding. Sergeant Steven Gomez and his men knew exactly where the culvert was of course so that they could provide the necessary and continuing ongoing ruse of the sounds of menacing voices all around the retreating pair.
Remaining silent, Jake made Mark lay down on his stomach in the one man body shaped culvert that also featured a dense overhead covering of jungle greenery ostensibly in order to hide the front of Mark's dirt-stained still naked white skin to avoid discovery and capture. They had a little line-of-sight ahead and then to complete the double purpose ruse, Jake then carefully lay his own full body length about half over Mark's, Jake's crotch half covering over Mark's left naked butt cheek, but Jake's right knee was flexed up so that his strong thigh was crossing over the back of Mark's knees, effectively pinning him down.
It was an odd and new but very welcome feeling really, Captain Shiller's body and leg cross over him, kind of snuggling down into his body. Mark's ass was still a bit sore and tender from the belt whippings he had endured, but not overly and in fact, Shiller's smooth-ish camo-trouser fabric felt kind of good at this point.
Mark had never slept with another man or boy, not in a way that would suggest intimacy, he was only sixteen after all and least experienced in that type of thing. Mark knew it was not intended, but still, he could interpret this new feeling as male intimacy, if he wanted to. Didn't he deserve that after all he had been through? It was just as Jake had planned of course.
Mark wanted to verbally and effusively thank his rescuer but muffled gruff and angry voices as well as sounds of men cutting through dense green vegetation with sharp machetes got closer and closer then would fade; closer and then fade and the Captain seemed busy watching and waiting , his eyes steadfastly ahead.
At least Mark could glance over at the Captain and determined that the captain's eyes were this deep piercing blue color, wow, and that kind of made Mark's mind wish and fantasize that this obviously very straight heterosexual man could at least be in his mind, a hero, but maybe a same-sex or gay hero of sorts. Then again, Mark could not yet think himself as gay. Gay meant love and all he cared about was sex with guys. That made him a perverse fag, not gay.
Jake's height was about an inch and a half taller than Mark, so that Jake's black and green grease-paint camouflaged face was mere inches from Mark's now. Mark's hair was a disheveled mess, whereas Jake's closely cropped blonde hair was tightly covered in a black stocking cap, typical of special forces out in the field.
As Mark silently waited, his rescuer's eyes staring intently up out of the hidden culvert, he started to do a little more of his own reconnaissance and checked out Jake's face more closely. It was strong, angulated and tough looking. Besides the blue eyes, Mark could see that Captain Shiller had blond hair and his lips full and a brownish red, as the face paint did not cover there.
But now there was a new and totally unexpected new distraction, one that had to be Mark's imagination. The proximity of the older male's groin to the younger's naked ass was coming to Mark's attention and the bulge there seemed to be a bit dynamic. Was it getting bigger?
Jake had pretty much had these first moments all planned out with time for Mark to settle away from captivity and enjoy new freedom, followed by more time to feel Jake's body pressed close to his and as Mark was doing, to visually check out his older protector without Jake's interference.
All of this was not just all for Mark either. Jake Shiller had been given just about the most bizarre marching orders likely in the entire history of the U.S .military, much less the Secret Service in any Presidential administration. President Glenn Bushnell had been crystal clear with his Executive Order,
"I don't care what it takes Captain, keep my kid off the streets and out of mine and my Party's hair. Keep him happy, safe and protected and by all means do whatever it is that you … you guys do, I don't care. Just keep his dick away from other civilian boys or men for the time being. Otherwise, quite obviously, my kid is sixteen going on twenty-six. Am I being very clear, Captain?" The answer in reply had been obvious.
Jake had had plenty of time to contemplate the consequences of his future involvement with the President's son. There was the fact that Jake was a twenty-eight-year-old career military man, CIA Black Ops agent and single gay man. Yes, gay. Frankly, "don't ask, don't tell" was for the ordinary Department Of Defense employee. Jake was anything but ordinary and his boss was nobody that had to follow any rules at all, General Riddick.
Jake's homosexuality was known only to those who had a need to know outside of the General or who Jake confided in and those were very few in number, consisting mainly of Sgt. Steve Gomez and his own crew. That was it, besides his few own private civilian and yes, military sexual intimates and clients. Whoever, however and wherever Jake Shilling chose to have sex with after that was his business only and nobody else's and it had already been pre-determined that Jake's sexual experiences and enjoyments were very closely aligned to what seemed to be the President's son or so it seemed.
What little time Jake had taken to check out Mr. Parks' home dungeon set-up after Parks was fast asleep on his own floor, reminded him of his own Arlington, Virginia home and his own personal dungeon for his bottom boy intimates, only his was a ton better.
It was cleaner, military themed to a tee and made most of his clients or invited intimate guests drool with great delight. If Mark was into that kind of thing, Jake had the set-up already ready, but at the moment, that was premature thinking. There was work to be done and yes, his groin was starting to really react to being so close to Mark.
Jake had to give Mark credit so far. The kid had put up with a lot in a very strange and bizarre situation that had to be maximally upsetting; and yet, Mark Bushnell seemed to have his father's penchant for staying cool under fire. It actually was fairly impressive for a sixteen-year-old kid to have been kidnapped and plopped in the middle of a foreign jungle and gotten this far without really showing excess strain, including a little unwise, but still very cool smart-ass complaining.
Finally, the outside activity had ceased. Jake sighed and for the first time, turned his head and looked at Mark, "OK kid, we can chat now, just keep the volume way down, so how you feeling? How's that whipped butt of yours? I'll bet you have a million questions."
Mark thought he knew what he wanted to ask in detail, but kept it simple, "Yea, my ass will survive fine, but what the fuck is going on? One second … wait a minute, are you one of Dad's spies or something? Mark said unwilling to prematurely make any assumptions.
Jake smiled a bit. The big revelation was better earlier than later he thought. Better to know if he was the man for this job or not.
"Yes and no. Your Dad got sick and tired of your cute little antics, especially this last stunt with Parks … " and Mark sighed and interrupted, "Hold it right there man. Look, I'm really grateful to you for getting me out of here, but that was my business, not his, OK?"
"Fine, fine, can I finish now?" Jake asked. Mark rolled his eyes, "Yea, I guess."
"I have my orders. Your Secret Service detailed fucked up and let you get free to Parks place without surveillance. Fortunately, General Riddick, my boss after your Dad that is, has been tracking you for months now, just a little favor he did for your Dad on account of your apparent lifestyle choice," Jake stopped and pretended to sniff the air for hostiles, then went on, Mark's eyes predictably showing a little negative reaction to the irritating phrase, "lifestyle choice."
"When you escaped your school and caught a hitch with that guy in that truck, our guy was following you clear to Parks' house. Unfortunately, as can happen, somebody was tracking our guy and got to you first. But, we kept our eye on him as well, just to find out what the fuck was going on, and we all ended up here, in the jungle."
"Where is here by the way?" Mark asked.
"Remember that little trip you took with your family when you are five years old?"
"No way! This is Belize?!"
"Yup … up in the Cayo District a short distance from the Mayan ruins, but back to the central question, my orders; and those are to stick to you like fly-paper for the duration, including keeping that unruly dick of yours under wraps." Jake said with a very satisfied grin.
"What?!" Mark said a little too loudly, Jake putting his finger over his lips and whispering, "Not so loud."
Already feeling frustration creeping in, Mark nonetheless complied and lowered his voice, "Just what the fuck is that about? I may be a fag, but I have my rights to get whatever sex I want, this is so unfair!!" Mark hissed heartily, but quietly. Jake smiled to himself very satisfyingly. Now came the good part, the part where Jake was kind of putting himself on the line.
"Fag? No, you may suck cock and take it up the ass, but 'fag' is a bad word. You should not be using it."
"Then what do you suggest? Easy for you to say, huh straight guy?" and Mark was really beginning to get self-righteous, once again to Jake's pleasure.
It was the perfect invitation. Jake's front bulge was getting maximally large and hard. He had purposefully kept it off to the side, just in case. It was, as they say, time to move, so he shifted the bulge right over to the center of Mark's very nice and naked butt cheeks and gently pressed it into Mark's deep bare ass cleft.
Naturally, Mark felt this change, "What the hell are you doing? Your dick is really … hey?!!" Mark harshly whispered a bit more loudly now.
"Care to take a guess?" Jake gave a little knowing smirk.
"But?!" Mark said, looking a little confused, then started to conjecture, "No way, no fucking way … my Dad hates fags, he hates me, he would never … " and then paused when he saw the Captain's face smile even more.
"Oh wouldn't he? Look, your Dad may not like gay guys because of his political affiliations, but he is also very pragmatic and knows he is not going to be changing you anytime soon. So, after consultation with General Riddick and myself, it was decided that the best protection for his son was to order me, Captain Jake Shiller, U.S. Navy seal and very happy gay man <insert theatrical pause> to be your detail."
"You? Gay? But?!" Mark said mouth open. Jake also gave Mark's bare butt a nice little hump or two to make his point, and it did!
"I know, hard to believe, but I believe it's very hard down there because I'm on top of you, if that helps. And don't worry, don't ask, don't tell does not pertain, but your apparent appreciation of piss and a whipped tail does."
The bomb was fully dropped, now it was up to Mark. Mark just lay there, stunned at what his Dad had done, still thinking this was all a joke but what his ass was feeling humping him, as well as his own dick hardness, were no jokes whatsoever. Was it really possible that he, Mark Bushnell and U.S. Navy Seal and Captain, Jake Shiller, both flew on pretty much the same airline together, in the same "cockpit" as is were!?
Suddenly, there was a dramatic increase in hostile activity outside of the culvert. Jake put his finger to his lips and moved his body almost completely over Mark's now, Mark simply lay very still as well, but his mind was focused on Jake's miraculous revelations and yes, that bulge was in just the right position and felt oh so good now. So why not? He didn't have to make any noise to send back some more signals and check this thing out, so Mark humped up his teen ass up into Shiller's bulge.
Jake smiled to himself feeling Mark's "message." Yes, he and the President's son were starting to communicate in the same language. This might even work! So now it was time to start pushing the kid even more, so Jake fired back a few good humps himself, grinding down and in. Mark moaned all the more and it became crystal clear, his rescuer, his new hero actually was a fag just like him or was Mark Bushnell really gay and not just a fag as he said he was? Well, that could be checked out later. For now, it was time to have some well earned fun, but just then, Jake whispered,
"I don't like what's going on out there. You stay put, I'm going out on a little recon mission."
"What? No! Please don't leave me here alone!" Mark said and Jake easily gauged Mark's sudden anxiety. Good, it was just the right time for Jake to ploy a little trick he had learned over a few years of handling bottom boy clients. Isolation. Leave your bottom boy alone for awhile, make him miss you.
But the rare circumstances gave Jake an idea, something he would never do back in Arlington, both for lack of cause, but because, like it or not, Jake was already really liking Mark Bushnell. The kid had nerve and guts and was doing really well.
"OK, look, here … " and handed Mark a very deadly unsheathed field dagger, eight inches of light weight dark green painted titanium steel with a silvery razor sharp business edge.
"Just don't hurt yourself or stab me with it when I get back, I won't be long Mark, OK?" and even ruffled Mark's matted hair before he lifted himself out of the depressed culvert and slithered off into the darkness. Mark nodded. Holding the dangerous looking weapon offered to him made his dick throb with delight, both for the knife, but also for some developing idolization of his thoughtful protector.
Jake moved quickly and soon was squatting out of Mark's smell, vision and hearing with Sergeant Gomez, replenishing water and spent field rations, even smoking the stump of a nearly expended cigarette. Then Gomez nodded to Jake, a planned little theater on the brink. This present stage of the operation was to last through the night and into the morning before stage four and the mock "capture and torture" of the pair would further Jake Shiller's plan to integrate himself into Mark Bushnell's life.
Mark very anxiously awaited Jake's return, holding the deadly dagger sideways, blade up. He missed Jake for several reasons now, even reasons besides fear and safety; but should anything or anymore invade his space to try and harm him, it or they were going to get gutted; but that didn't mean he was all that happy about it. He wanted Jake back, ASAP.
Shiller and Gomez then crept back towards Mark's position together, but it was only Gomez who talked in a menacing and angry fashion and sounded like he was stalking the pair, swinging a machete to and fro slashing vegetation while Jake silently grinned at his side and prepared yet another surprise.
Mark started to get more anxious, even his holding the knife for security was not helping much anymore and he was trembling besides. Somebody was near and he dare not try say anything or see if it was Jake or not. Suddenly, a dark figure was practically standing over him. Mark put his head down, squeezed his eyes shut and froze any movement in the culvert. Then, something wet and aromatic started to splash and collect hardly two foot away . Mark smelled it. It was piss! Damn! Whoever the bastard was, was pissing on the jungle floor not knowing he was there!
And yet as Mark listened to the gentle cascading shower, his dick hardened again and this crazy fantasy popped into his head. Jake Shiller was standing over him, Mark's mouth open and Mark was having to drink Jake's golden yellow piss in order for it not to give away their position if it was splashed around them. That kind of helped, but not for long. The threat of harm was too overwhelming at present to really enjoy it.
Then there was the sound of a zipper and the figure retreated and Mark could relax. Jake smiled as he looked down, having drained about three-fourths or more of his bladder right near Mark's head, saving a little of the rest for just in case, the erotic prank completed. Jake then circled back around and crept back into the culvert, alerting Mark to his presence,
"Mark, you OK?" and then slid down next to and gently back into the jungle floor depression placing his body back on top of Mark's,
"Wow, what's that stink?" Jake asked keeping a straight face.
"I had company while you were gone! Some bastard peed right up by my head, where have you been? What did you see?" Mark said, really enjoying not only the great feel of safety with Jake around, but also a lusty verve of the man's body pressing and rubbing on his bare skin from on top of him again.
"Same guys. I think we're stuck for a long while yet. There's more of them than I thought and they're constantly roving around right now. We'll try to get out of here later when some of them are asleep, sorry about that smell."
Mark wanted to say something, how it made his dick feel to smell the piss and to have heard it splash, but he had no idea what Jake was into yet,
"So like, what kinds of things do you like to do for sex kicks?" Mark carefully probed, hoping the question was not rude.
Jake smiled, "Dress up in women's clothing and ballet tutus."
"What?! No you don't! Come on, that would suck!" and Jake quietly laughed.
"Yea, it would, well, I think I'd surprise you Mark. You know Parks place?"
"How do you know about that, you been there or something?" Mark smirked suspiciously.
"Just after you got snatched by these guys, yes Mark, I had to check the place out as part of my job. It's OK, but mine is ten times better, all tricked out in a ton of military hardware and stuff."
Mark's face lit up! "Really?! Can I go there?! I mean, you know, after all this?" and Jake then felt kind of ashamed, just a little guilty feeling. He had not seen this side of the sixteen year old before. None of his clients were as young as Mark nor did they get that giddy or excited about their activities anymore. It made Jake kind of want to call the rest of the operation off and just haul the very affable boy home with him and not mess with his head anymore.
"Sure, we'll do that."
Then Mark went for it, "You into piss by chance?" he excitedly asked.
"It's a nice activity, sure I am, you?" Jake said, his voice warbling a bit, kind of surprised Mark would ask him about that unusual activity so soon.
Mark grinned, "I'm gonna sound like a freak and don't be offended or anything, but while that guy was pissing near me, I was pretending it was you pissing in my mouth."
Jake's dick instantly hardened listening and so did Mark's as he was saying it. Jake jumped all over it,
"Oh yea? I'd love to do that for you!"
Mark shuddered, "I am so fucking horny. Those guys played with me for a day and wouldn't let me spunk or anything!"
Now it was Jake's turn to take a chance, "How far have you gone with piss before?"
"I've washed my mouth out with my own a few times, but I haven't really swallowed it. They didn't make me do that here, but I don't know why."
Jake smiled, "OK, well, you're horny, I'm horny too; tell you what. You decide. If you like, we can make your cool little piss fantasy come true, only, you'll have to drink my piss for real. Can't have it splashing all over you, bugs will just eat you and I up later, up to you kiddo!"
Mark grinned ear to ear, this was way totally cool and so was Captain Shiller and so nice about everything. Mark knew he would never need a skank like Parks ever again and another thing - now he wanted to please Jake Shiller as well.
"OK, I want to do it. But can I get you off too? I mean, you'd like a nice BJ for your trouble, wouldn't you?"
Believe it or not, Jake Shiller never took unfair advantage of clients or bottom partners, not like a lot of greedy top guys he knew, much less a vulnerable and important kid like Mark Bushnell.
"Hey, if that turns you on, I won't deny I'd sure like it!" Jake replied, really feeling guilty now.
Mark nodded, "OK, let's go for it!" and his balls really started to boil up now, Mark was getting so excited.
Jake then got up off of Mark's body and carefully stood up straddling directly over Mark's naked body, pretending to scan the darkness for hostiles, even going so far as to brandish his semi-automatic .45 caliber side arm, the safety on of course.
"OK Mark, turn over onto your back," and Mark did and gazing up got a big thrilling shudder over his entire body. Jake was standing up over him, protecting him as his fist held that sexy looking pistol, Jake's head and eyes scanning the darkness and looking around them. Jake even set his night vision goggles onto his head and used those and that make Jake look even more sexy, sort of like a human transformer robot thing.
"Talk dirty to me too!" Mark hissed from where he lay looking up. Jake smiled but just a little and quietly said, "Whatever you like kiddo, you ready?" and Mark nodded and then watched as Jake used the same hand holding the side arm to unzip his camo-trousers fly and then pulled out six inches of flaccid cock, Jake's big man-nuts smugly and confidently dangling just below. Jake was very skilled at controlling his member when called for, as it was now for peeing and not fucking.
Jake then slowly lowered himself to his knees, the strong smelling man-musk hitting Mark's nose from Jake's groin, the Black Ops agent's very large and presently soft cock dangling right there, right above Mark's mouth. Jake even used the pistol's sleek nuzzle business end to then lift up his cock at mid-shaft and into readiness. Mark saw this, his eyes widening, his own cock stiffening even more than it was before, Mark totally awestruck at this point.
Mark then closed his eyes and let his mind go into a fast-paced reverie and review: how he had been shot with a tranq-gun in his ass while helplessly shackled up on Parks' St. Andrews Cross in Denver, then unconscious, kidnapped by dangerous mercenaries seeking ransom for his valuable body and transported by plane and air-dropped by parachute, naked as the day he was born, into the hot, humid and foreign jungles of Belize.
Then he was re-captured by the companion group of jungle based mercenaries in the middle of the night and imprisoned in a coffin-like cage, locked up and left to contemplate his fate alone under the black and star-filled skies above his jungle floor prison. Then, the next morning, bright and early, he was treated like a the lowly faggot prisoner he really was, four-pointed up on a wooden trestle under the hot tropical sky, his skinny young male body mercilessly toyed with by real men! (or at least he could now picture them that way)
But then, in the nick of time and just before the one they called Gomez was about to torture his soft genitals with excruciatingly painful amounts of deadly electricity, he was rescued, by this man that was now having his own way with his body and now especially his mouth. This stud, this deadly U.S. Navy Seal and Black Ops agent was now using Mark's mouth, his whole body really as payment for services done, in the name of his boss and Mark's father, the current sitting President Of The United States!
Mark would not dare to tell Jake that he was now pretending that Shiller was forcing the "straight" and helpless boy to drink his piss at gunpoint no less! Then he would be forced to suck Shiller's long flaccid cock to hardness just before he would be turned over, ass up, then butt-fucked, raped really, the knowledge of his raunchy jungle fate to later be used to blackmail the country's "First Son" into even more humiliating sexual servitude. Talk about submission, Mark's mouth then opened and his tongue came flopping out, almost like a dog's, soft urgent mewing sounds coming from Mark's larynx.
Jake looked down between his spread thighs. Whatever it was that Mark was fantasizing about must be pretty damn hot, the kid was oozing pre-cum. Impressed at the mere boy's ability to relax and enjoy the moment under bizarre stress and circumstances, Jake leaned forward and downwards, placing his large cockhead at the boy's mouth. Mark's eyes were still closed, but now he could almost taste Jake's manly scent, certainly feeling the man's body heat next to his head.
"Drink my man-piss faggot boy, drink it or I'll blow your fucking brains out, " Jake menacingly hissed and then let a squirt or two of piss into Mark's mouth. Mark heard the whispered threat and the words screamed in through his ears, pummeled his brain and ended up in his dick and testicles and then the taste of Jake's piss coated his mouth and added new sensations, hard, strong and even disgusting flavors of another male human's strong urine, very much for the first time too!
Mark's nose twitched and complained as did his assaulted taste buds and much of his mind as well, but Mark dug down deep, and despite his age and inexperience with such things, somehow just naturally transformed the tastes into harsh and just "punishment," punishment for having been a very badly misbehaved young man, wantonly disregarding his unique privilege and status by seeking base sex from strangers and risking his very life in having done so, costing tens of thousands of tax-payer dollars that should have been much better spent.
Mark swallowed the acrid liquid and though it was not a lot in volume, it burned his gullet just like the mercenary's heavy leather belts had whipped and burned his young tail into a throbbing mess! But the whole thing was turning him on very quickly and to an extent he could not believe.
He had to have more now, more of Shiller's fresh hot ,strong man-piss and opened his mouth, his tongue lashing out for more, his face transmitting that rare combination of hateful disgust with relentless need. Mark's penis was starting to push out small amounts of pre-cum from his swollen red sixteen year old cockhead and now Mark was so into it, he had another idea.
Jake let go of another carefully controlled amount of urine and then saw Mark's neck muscles straining, his head lifting. Mark suddenly had decided to latch his lips onto Jake's dick, forcing himself, literally, to let the punishing odiferous body fluid to flow more freely and really pound his senses like a large paddle pounds a boy's naked and helpless bared buttocks up on a St. Andrew's cross.
Recognizing Mark's rare and intense involvement and internal need, Jake deftly holstered his side arm and using his freed right hand, gently cradled the back of Mark's head and neck.
"Relax Mark, concentrate and focus now, enjoy it, you deserve to enjoy it," Jake said quietly and sincerely, then started a gentle flow of urine, feeling a relentless lustful spike of his own, threatening to turn a flaccid cock into a steel-tubed delivery system. That would be OK now. Jake's pelvis would quickly adapt to his shaft's lengthening process and still get the job done.
Mark felt Jake's strong and supportive hand and arm, heard his soothing words and felt his close and guarding presence and thought to himself, "Holy shit, this is for real. He's treating me with care and respect and it's all so fucking hot!" and then Mark started to suck piss out of the penis head that his lips had now sealed around.
Jake knew better than to do much more, however, it would just make the novice sick to his stomach, so he stopped the flow and didn't need to further empty his bladder for hours more.
"Enough piss for now young man, want to suck on my dick instead?" and Mark was glad for the cessation. Drinking what little he had felt enough for the first go around, but the other invitation was quickly responded to and Mark started to suck Jake's cock into a fast growing erection, the head of which was enough work for his more or less novice experience in such things.
Jake pulled both of them up now so that he was standing tall and erect again and Mark was up on his knees, very grateful for the change of position. He put his hands on his rescuer's strong thighs and started to take in more and more of the giant erection into his mouth.
Jake pulled out his side arm again and slowly waved it across the horizon in front of them with one hand and gently petted and rubbed Mark's head and the side of his face with the other, looking down approvingly, even as Mark was looking up like a baby eaglet, just as eager for its majestic parent's noble endorsement. Somehow, Mark never noticed that such vertical exposure should have been contraindicated even in the blackness of the hot humid night if they were supposed to be evading the hostiles.
But just then, there was gunfire, startling Mark, but not Jake. This seemed a bit odd this time of night. Gomez was supposed to roust his band of special forces actors a bit later and put on a little show for Mark; but then, when another type of automatic weapon fired off in response to the first, Jake rolled his eyes, "Shit!"
By now, the gunfire had caused Mark to stop sucking dick and duck down back into the culvert thinking it was just the same men who had been stalking them from the first. Jake kneeled, "We've got company," Jake warned Mark, but now knew it was not Gomez and his men, no. Jake had a strong suspicion of who the intruder was, but make no assumptions as yet.
"Yea no shit, the same guys huh?" Mark commented and Jake sighed. The gig was up and Mark should know what was going on in reality.
"No, not the same guys Mark. Gomez is my Sergeant; the other men mine as well. It was all a little harmless game for your benefit, but somebody else has come along to join the party, I think an old friend of mine!"
Mark's head was swirling now, and some animosity welled up; but some things now made sense such as not being captive from the get-go and now that he thought about it, the way Gomez and his men had acted. They weren't really mercenaries and dramatic last second rescues from menacing car batteries were fine for the movies, but not in real life.
"So this is all fake? You kidnapped me back there at Parks' place?" Mark said, trying not to overreact.
"That about sums it up kiddo. Don't be too put off, I was just trying to help you have a good time and enjoy yourself in a way you understand. You're old man agreed, and that's saying something all by itself."
"He did?" Mark replied incredulously.
"Yup, but let's talk about that later. We've a bigger shark to try and evade, my old friend is hunting out there, I'm pretty sure!"
"Friend?" Mark asked, feeling the sarcasm in Jake's voice as well as a little renewed fear if now there was a genuinely real and dangerous enemy lurking near to them.
"No, not really. He's a drug lord or sorts, masquerading as a rebel, a pissed off Columbian. I think one of my esteemed colleagues fucked up and drove Manuel Contreras and his band of rebels up into my training area. That was not supposed to happen for awhile yet."
"Manuel Contreras? Isn't there some kind of controversy in the State Department and DOD about my Dad's administration inadvertently supplying him with arms and shit in Columbia?" Mark asked.
Jake looked down, impressed, "Very good Mark. You know your current events. Let's just say, things are politically very muddled, but that does not make Contreras any less dangerous. But don't worry, you won't be harmed. Contreras and I go back a ways however. I think he may have a hard-on for me, so be prepared!"
"What? A hard-on … oh, you mean he hates your guts?"
"Yup and I hate his mother-fucking guts as well. He's a two-timing, self-centered, little self-styled Columbian god."
Just about then, the little jungle "love-nest" was surrounded by ten heavily armed brown-skinned rebels, Contreras himself striding into the center of the scene. Man and boy had to stand up and face a real enemy.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here señor Captain, huh? A naked young boy? Good for you Shiller, up to your old tricks again I see. But fucking chicos in the jungle? That's a new one! How nice for you, and who is this one?"
"A little far from home are we not Contreras my old friend? Just keep your hands off the boy. This is Mark Bushnell."
"So it is, so it is, fucking around with El Presidente's son are we? Does he know this? Of course he does, it's all more of the American pig's presidential bullshit."
Mark deduced the picture pretty clearly now without much imagination needed. What he knew of Manuel Contreras was that the man was super-intelligent, had been educated in the United States at the University of Miami and spoke a number of languages fluently.
"Say what you want, leave the kid out of it. This is between you and me Contreras. You have the upper hand this time, so go for it, let's see what you got!" Jake brazened, trying is best to divert the older rebel's attention away from the President's son, figuring that Contreras had already captured Gomez and his other men, but was nonetheless anxious to make sure.
Mark smirked and felt this surge of pride for Jake, but hoped that he wasn't unwisely provoking somebody who obviously did revile not only his father, but Jake Shiller as well and likely had the means to, as Jake suggested, go for it. But suddenly, the party got a lot more interesting than that. A younger presence strode into the center with Manuel. It was his son, Jorge, a seventeen year old look alike to his father and he was toting an Israeli Uzi.
Mark's eyes drank in the young brown-skinned rebel's physical beauty and then their eyes met. This might not be so simple now, Mark saw both hatred and power in the boy's eyes. The boy stayed silent at first, glared at Mark, then at Jake, and then looked at his father and spoke in his native Spanish tongue in not a very conciliatory tone.
Manuel smiled, "Jorge, don't be rude. Speak in English, so that your new American friends will understand you."
Jorge, dressed in rebel combat fatigues nodded, "Si father, well, well, if it isn't the American pig's son Mark. Welcome to Belize, welcome … to my country," Jorge hissed in derision.
"This isn't your country, so go fuck yourself, Jorge!" Mark said with sarcastic bravado.
Jake's eyes widened both in great surprise for Mark's foolish remark, but also gave him credit. Showing weakness now would be a big mistake and could cause more harm than what Jorge's presence already portended. Jake had actually quite forgot about Jorge Contreras. Obviously Manuel had not and was doing his fatherly job properly, growing his son up in the "family business."
Jorge handed the Uzi to one of his father's men and then stepped towards Mark, looked at the younger boy's nakedness, up and down, hands on his hips. Now they were nose to nose and Mark's blood was boiling with not only great fear, but this crazy sense of great excitement as well.
Suddenly Jorge's hand reached out and painfully grabbed Mark's nuts and squeezed down on them hard! Mark winced but could not prevent his cock from immediately hardening for all that was happening and that despite the gut aching pain that his young brown-skinned captor was amply providing. Somehow, Mark knew not do allow his hands to touch Jorge, guns were trained on his head from Jorge's protectors. Jorge saw the erection, leered at it a moment, then grinned and shouted with loud and angry derision,
"The American President's son is a fucking maricón! A fucking faggot!!" then let go of the painful handhold.
Mark's sides were maximally aching, almost to nausea, but he refused to not stare back at Jorge and shuddered with a sudden self-revelation, all provoked by the young rebel's very angrily delivered remark,
"No Contreras, you are wrong, you stupid moron! I'm GAY! I'm NOT a faggot and there's nothing you or your fucked up father can do about it, so go FUCK YOURSELVES!"
It was like everyone and everything in the jungle around them froze, save the soldiers who came closer with their weapons to both Jake and Mark. But Jake did not care about Manuel Contreras or his son or the guns brandished by the other rebels, no. Jake was staring intently at Mark, emotionally moved very deep down inside himself by Mark's coming out right before his eyes in the worst possible circumstances and dangerous stress. It was something even a bit beyond Jake Shiller's experience.
"Let me kill the fucking faggot pig NOW, Jorge," one of the men suddenly shouted in expected anger, placing a pistol right at Mark's temple.
"There will be no killing of anyone muchachos, these two are too valuable!" Manual Contreras grinned, enjoying his son's command of the pathetic American boy and pretending to be the peacemaker, but really was just trying to avoid meddling in the delicate and higher money-laden plans that he had been carefully developing with his corrupt American partners. The soldiers backed off.
Once again there was a stare down, boy to boy, both pairs of eyes on fire with hatred with each other for sure, but now a dangerous lust built in one of them as well, one that could not now be stopped,
"No, no, father is right, don't kill him. I want him … fucking maricón, we have no women out here and I need to fuck … this one is a girl. I will fuck her after I torture my new girlfriend, the U.S. President's daughter!!" Jorge said with an evil smile as he stared at Mark and the men all roared and made lewd gestures, grabbing at their packages including Manuel.
"You lay one hand on him boy and you and your father are going to die!" Jake hissed, then had to double over, the wind suddenly driven from his lungs, one of the soldiers sucker punched his gut, very hard.
Mark's emotions were at a new edge now. What he had blurted out to Jorge was not only the truth, it was great relief and one that his new hero Jake Shiller had inspired him to. Mark sneered at the soldier who sucker-punched Jake, but knew Jake could take a mere tap like that with no harm.
Otherwise, Mark now knew that it was his difficult but necessary job to try hard and not to show fear to his captors. He had no doubt that the older boy could do what he said and cause him a ton of excruciating pain beyond anything he had withstood already, but it was too late; Mark Bushnell would NOT give into the feeling of being less than who he now knew he was, what Jake had already modeled for him, a proud boy, a proud gay boy to be exact.
"Do your worst Contreras. All you'll ever be is a two-bit nothing out here in the woods, camping and pretending with your father that you matter. You don't!" Mark said back to Jorge.
The proud rebel teen spit in Mark's face and sneered at him, "You will pay, cheap faggot scum, take him back to camp and get him ready, NOW!!!" Jorge screamed in anger.
As Mark and Jake, man and boy (or was he really a new man now?) were separated and Mark's and Jake's eyes met, there was an unspoken mutual respect as well as a fierce and fiery bonding in fast development, the kind that the rebels were now in danger of fueling with the energy of isolating one from the other.
* * * * * * * * * *
The thick leather strap flew into Mark's already purplish throbbing back side for the twentieth time, Mark screaming for the pain, his chest heaving and trying to get in more than a few breaths before another terrible swipe came. His dick was soft as butter now, Mark trying hard for it not to smash into the hard wooden table that he was now held prone over as each blow came. He was face down, spread eagled by four of Jorge Contreras' helpers, as the angry Jorge whipped his naked captive with the strong and relentless cuts, this very soon after Mark's captors had taken him back to the camp.
"Take it easy Jorge, he is valuable, you cannot damage him my proud boy!" Manuel carefully cajoled, patting Jorge on the back and breaking Jorge's spell of revenge and hatred and he nodded, "Yes father, but I am not done with him yet, bring him down to his knees before me!" Jorge commanded his men.
Mark's ass was throbbing as hard as it ever had as the men roughly stood him up, but maybe he could now seek his single goal, that to try to see even just a glimpse of his hero Jake Shiller, who had been sequestered off with Sergeant Gomez and the other men while Jorge abused his own private prisoner. But it was just too dark and the next thing he knew, he was staring at Jorge Contreras' flaccid brown cock, very visible in the darkness because of its impressive size.
"Suck me to hardness maricón and if you do a good job, I will even grease it up for you before I rape your worthless American ass!!"
Mark's ass was numb now from the traumatic whipping and unfortunately, the awful pain was quickly modifying down and into that hot lustful feeling that he had sought from Parks as well as enjoyed some of with Sergeant Gomez's similar attention. His cock was stiffening up big time now as he stared at the rebel's organ.
The thing was, Mark might have not cared about the rape, only that he had never been anally entered before and he desperately wanted Jake to be the first. Would Jorge's actual forced rape mean he would not be a virgin for Jake? Mark had to try and do something that would prevent him having to answer the question. Mark sighed and moved in and carefully took in the older boy's big soft cock in his mouth, not touching Jorge in any other way.
"Ohhh yessss, yesssss, suck that cock you pussy faggot! You want more? You can suck all my men! They can all rape your worthless cunt!" Jorge hissed, but that just made it worse for Mark in several heavily ambivalent ways. His own cock got frustratingly harder even as the thought that Jake would be far down the line in his anal sexual history, seemed irrevocably dispiriting.
Jake was as angry at himself as he was at Contreras, hell, angrier at himself by a long shot. Why had he chosen to be such an asshole and insist on initiating the President's son into their new relationship down at his training camp in Belize? It was supposed to have been rough and edgy, but safe and fun, instructive even and a bonding process. And now this huge fuck up! Where had Contreras come from? Jake thought that another Black Ops squad had Contreras well in hand far south of his location.
Frustration mounted for Jake Shiller. Not being able to see much of the small gathering around Mark Bushnell was not good! He had a gag in his mouth as did Gomez and all his men and they were all chained and shackled up together far off to the side. He was glad Mark's whipping had stopped and had already thoroughly castigated himself for having gotten so desperately hard in his camo-trousers as he listened to the familiar and lustful sounds of Mark's forced strapping, each cut striking Mark's tender flesh, causing Mark's strong and hard screams. He would somehow rectify that shame later and glared over at Gomez who gave him a calm look that said,
"Don't worry Captain, if they harm him in any way, we'll go to the ends of the earth to kill the bastard fuckers!"
Jorge's cock just got bigger and harder, nearly as big as Jake's even over the fifteen minutes of forced cocksucking. Mark's mouth was being taken to the limits, his jaw cramping, "I can't do more! You're too big!" Mark said pulling away finally.
"Fucking bastard, well, I'm ready to fuck you anyway! Hold him over the table, spread his legs!" Jorge commanded.
Mark just knew he was going to be split wide open and maybe permanently damaged by Jorge's angry animal cock, never mind the loss of his chance to give himself to Jake for this first encounter. But sometimes, even in real life, one is saved from the worst circumstances by the most unlikely of persons.
Manual Contreras, a very worldly man of great intelligence, knew many more things about all men than even his son could suspect of him. He had been keeping a very good eye on Jake Shiller and his men during his son's rough treatment of Mark. Despite his hatred of Americans and especially homosexuals, he knew that isolating Jake from the boy was dangerous business now.
Manuel had carefully watched Shiller's intent and angry stare at Jorge as compared to the compassionate and loving look that he gave Mark Bushnell. Manuel sensed a special bond, a sexualized one that had formed between the two, one as undeniably strong as it was disgusting. Keeping the man from the boy was no longer an option, even as killing either was never in the cards.
Fiercely proud of Jorge, but well aware that his son's fiery passions were probably misspent on valuable property, Manuel Contreras strolled up to Jorge just before the men put Mark over the table.
"Jorge, you have a wonderfully large horse-sized dick my proud son, you will make your wife very, very happy some day and breed your father many proud grandsons and beautiful granddaughters. You have done enough … "
"NO! NO! I want to HURT HIM!" Jorge screamed at his father. Manuel's fatherly pride surged, but his discipline for the larger rebel picture took over.
"Jorge! Such passions you have my son! You have already hurt him! You have whipped him like the American dog that he is and caused him great loss of face and greater shame in front of our American solider captives over there. They will no doubt think the boy disgusting and useless now muchacho! So rejoice in your victory my son. Besides, he is an object of value, worth a lot of money to our glorious cause and there is too much at stake with our plans with the filthy rich American government. I have an idea, come here!"
Jorge rolled his eyes and walked over to his father. Mark was very grateful for the respite, but grew quickly worried as he saw Jorge's eyes light up at whatever evil was being plotted against him.
Jake, on the other hand, tempered his gladness for Manuel's intervention, now knowing that both he and Manuel Contreras were on the same wavelength now. Had their positions been reversed, Jake would have clearly avoided isolating strongly bonded men from each other, especially avoiding those couples who had strong same-sex feelings and emotions for one another as he now had for Mark. It made the elder Contreras even more dangerous now. What was he up to? Whatever it was, Jake strongly suspected that Manuel Contreras meant to be even more sinister in his clever treatment of Mark's body.
After being fed and watered, the next thing both Jake and Mark knew, they were stood up together next to the cramped-for-space horizontal coffin-like cage that Mark had been put in by Gomez and his men. Hands and wrists were shackled behind their backs, ankles shackled, then lashed to hobble them both up together, then they were laid on their sides in the cage, Mark's back to Jake's front, Mark's bare ass to Jake's bare genitals, the lid clanged shut under the pitch blackness of the star-lit night sky.
"There, man and boy together just like in the jungle, how sweet! Are you happy now you disgusting maricóns!!? You will pay in the morning, both of you!" Manuel sneered and both he and Jorge spat at the pair as they lay there and then disappeared, leaving a single armed guard.
At last, Mark could at least afford to relax. He had not been raped, he was still a virgin and though he was lying down in the disgusting cramped prison cell with a throbbing backside and was still in shackles, he was cuddled into Jake, his hero, and maybe now much more than that.
Jake's emotions were on edge and that was not easy for Jake Shiller. His training had taught him to avoid emotions in the field, especially when captive, but he had never been trained for this specific personal moment with Mark. After the guard started to walk away to light a cigarette, Jake spoke softly to the back of Mark's head, now just hardly an inch from Mark's,
"Mark, are you OK? How's your body, your buttocks?" Jake said with a whisper, still feeling maximal guilt over the whole dangerous mess.
"I'll survive now that you're with me. My ass hurts like hell, but I don't care about that right now. I don't know what they have planned, but this isn't over" Mark sighed and whispered back and even snuggled back into Jake so that his shackled hands and fingers could find Jake's genitals.
"No don't Mark, it's not right … this is all my fault, I got you into this mess because I got greedy and prideful. I fucked up! Don't touch me Mark, you don't have to do anything. You've already proven what a man you really are. I'm so damned proud of you, saying what you did to that little shithead, Jorge."
Mark stopped the fondling, but only to listen and hear Jake's profound confession, an emotion suddenly washing over him, the kind of which he had never encountered. What was it?
"I don't know how much a man I was doing all that screaming. That strapping really hurt, but after, on my knees, I got hard thinking about it, even about him. Is that fucked up or what?"
"It's OK, it's natural. That's what sometimes happens, you identify with your captor. Don't let it bother you Mark. I … got hard too, listening to the strapping, and your screams, I'm sorry." Jake replied.
Jake Shiller was starting to feel something slipping away, something that he thought he knew would always feel about himself, something about being the perfectly stoic and proud soldier 24/7; a U.S. Navy Seal, immune from soft and vulnerable feelings, loving only himself and his job, his country and fellow soldiers as well, but just in patriotic ways only. Even his sex acts with other men in his home dungeon had been performed professionally, no feelings mostly, it was just sex.
"You did, you got hard? Funny, I kind of got the idea that you kinda liked me back there in the culvert. Hate to say it, I miss that little place now and what we did there." Mark said quickly, suspecting how much it probably hurt Jake's fierce military pride to confess to a vulnerable boy, even if he was the President's son. Mark's hands just gently held onto Jake's soft genitals now, no petting, just a soft and tender touch. Jake accepted the touch, loved it in fact and it didn't feel sexual at all at first and he went on.
Jake wiggled and squirmed some. The hard ground was not easy to lie on and though he was naked form the waist up, at least he still had on his camo-trousers. Mark was still naked however.
"Ever since I took this job and we invaded Parks' place and I saw you up on Parks' cross, I did like you Mark, admired you as well. That was a pretty brave, clever and gutsy thing breaking out of school, evading those agents, just to get what you know you wanted; reminds me of myself actually," and Jake paused a moment before continuing.
"I was the one who nailed your ass with the tranq-gun, then I caught you as you feel asleep. I didn't let you fall to the floor after I shot you, I took care of you myself. I carried you out of Parks' place in my arms, all the way to the van and to Andrews before we airlifted in the C-130 all the way here. I never left your side until we parachuted out and I put you on that landing sled on the jungle floor clearing and then took up a post and had my eye on your every moment."
Mark smiled, even felt a little emotional, "You did all that for me? You shot my ass up and everything and carried me?" and Mark even giggled a little and snuggled back further and now Jake's cock was getting hard in Mark's hands despite that Jake really tried to will it not too, but so was Mark's.
"Yea, stupid, I know. Not exactly what your Dad had in mind about me protecting you. I suspect my ass is fired when he finds out," Jake said, feeling his honest confession relaxing his sore mind emotionally as well as finally relaxing some physically and enjoying his hardened dick in the boy's shackled hands.
"Finds out? Fired? I don't think so! Jesus Jake, are you kidding me? No way that is going to happen! This has got to be the hottest thing ever! Much less the best fantasy come true ever, being kidnapped by a Navy Seal with a dart-gun, flown over a thousand miles down here and toyed with by seriously dangerous men. The Contreras guys are fucking cowards, but still, it's a fucking paradise of lust!" and Mark's voice faded off, his dick aching for release.
"Damn I'm horny!" Mark blurted a little too loudly and one of the guards came over the banged on the cage, "Shut the fuck up!" then he strode a goodly distance away, wanting to get as far as he could from the disgusting American maricóns!
Mark wasn't the only horny male in the cage now, "I wish I could help both of us," Jake replied, actually meaning to help Mark get off, not himself, well maybe get additional relief of some guilt for himself. Then Jake gulped and set the rest of what was left of his strong natural male ego and looming military pride aside to tell Mark something even more unnerving, but that Mark deserved to know,
"I … I wish I could hold and carry you again like I did then, right now even. I … I kissed you on the top of your head when you were in the van with me … I was afraid to remember that, much less tell you."
"Really?" Mark said, gasping a little, feeling that really strange emotion start to well up in his chest again of just a short while ago. Maybe the feeling was starting to take shape, something maybe about loving another guy? For real that is?
"When I laid you down on the sled after we landed, I did it again. I don't know why I did it, I just did it," and Mark smiled to himself, Jake's further confession making the love connection even more conclusive, but chose to just enjoy it quietly within himself.
"You know, Contreras is pissed off. Something is going to happen tomorrow. I got off easy tonight," Mark said quietly.
"I think I know what it is, I think … father and son are going to make me fuck you in front of all of them and they're going to make it … make it seem dirty and disgusting and not … not fun and fulfilling, like it's supposed to be Mark, I'm sorry, I screwed up your first time for you as well," Jake said trying to regain further dignity and self-respect by being brutally honest with Mark.
Mark thought about it. It made sense. "Maybe they're going to film it and threaten to use it against Dad in the international media to get more money," Mark wisely concluded. Jake shook his head, another layer of Mark's very adult maturely coming to light. He had not wanted to say it, though that had been his first conclusion.
"That's very likely the case Mark. It's … it's … " but Mark interrupted,
"Don't sweat it Jake, as long as it's your dick and not that asshole or his dickhead friends," Mark said sighing, "Some fantasy huh?"
Jake sighed as well, but wasn't this whole thing just typical Ops? He was a trained expert, but even the best plans could change in the blink of an eye and the main asset of any Seal was adaptation with a good dose of improvisation.
"Did you mean what you said Mark? About being gay and not a fag? It really sounded sincere," Jake asked Mark, pushing his body further into Mark's cuddling the boy as well as he could, his chin now resting on top of Mark's head. Mark loved that feeling and wanted even more of it just then.
Mark smiled in the darkness, remembering the moment, cherishing it in fact, "Yes, I did. You gifted me that power you know!"
Gifted? That was a pretty eloquent word and description in Jake's mind. And speaking of gifted, did Mark Bushnell's father even have a fraction of a clue of just how gifted and great a son he really had? Such a shame if he did not.
"Mark, I promise you, we'll get out of this mess and … well, you'll never have to feel alone or frustrated about sex and stuff or anything ever again, that is if you still want me to be your protection detail and do things with me."
"Promise?" Mark replied, his active mind already planning the days, weeks and months ahead, confident they would leave this jungle captivity. He simply grinned and wiggled his naked ass into Jake's body the best that he could.
"On my career, I promise," Jake said, now feeling OK about letting go of some feelings for Mark, smiling at the boy's courage and willingness to take things as they came in the bizarre predicament without complaint.
Mark smiled, his dick throbbing away now. He thought about asking Jake to just take him right then in the cage, bust his cherry and spoil the rebel's likely plans to publically humiliate the pair in the morning, but knew that the guards would never let it happen.
So instead, Mark focused on the fantasy aspects of it, about how hot it would be, raped by Jake in public like that, in front of the loud leering rebels, grabbing at themselves and calling them both nasty names, "Fucking maricóns! American bastards!"
"Hey, what is your dirty little mind thinking about now? Stop that!" Jake smiled, Mark's hands starting to stroke on Jake's hardened shaft.
"Don't ask, it's sick and somebody may as well get off since I can't!" Mark replied.
Jake was going to ask Mark to stop, but instead restrained himself to say anything negative at all, trying to control Mark when the boy had done such a great job of controlling himself during all this duress. Why not be grateful for once, huh?
"Wouldn't mind, not from an upstanding guy like you Mark," Jake said instead, realizing too late the pun he had just launched, but very sincere about his newly formed respect, opinion and yes, love for the President's son.
Mark snickered a little, "Yea, you could say that," and Jake rolled his eyes in the darkness, "Sorry, came out wrong."
"Yea well, this isn't going to come out wrong. All I can think about now is you fucking my ass in front of those bastards, taking away my virginity in this hot humid jungle. I wonder how many guys my age who want to lose their virginity to another male, could ever boast about losing it to a Seal, must less here in this jungle place, huh?"
"None by my calculations," Jake said, now starting to help Mark's generous manual efforts with small pelvic thrusts of his own,
"Now get me off you hot little maricón!" Jake playfully hiss in his ear.
Mark grinned, loving the hot, lustful and aggressive words and tone. Maybe he could get off anyway!
"Yea, talk dirty to me Jake, make me get off without touching myself, come on, try!" Mark asked.
"Yea boy. I'm gonna bend you over in front of Jorge, maybe make you suck his dick while I spear your hot tight virgin ass with my horny spike!" Jake hissed. Mark shuddered at the visual. Jorge may be an asshole, but he sure was a hot handsome one! It was working!
"Hey, push me over a little to my tummy-side, press my dick into the hardpan so I can jerk it in the dirt, you can get me off Jake, come on, try it and keep talking!" Mark said, his hands getting tired, but that was OK. Jake was doing most of the work now for himself, just using Mark's passive grip.
Jake did just that and slowly, so the lazy and sleepy guard standing a ways away wouldn't notice, rotating Mark's body sideways until Mark said, "OK good!"
Mark then started to hump the hard ground beneath the sensitive skin of his raging boner as Jake continued,
"Take your punishment you little prick! I should rinse your mouth out with my piss first! Then piss in your butt-hole before I fill it with man sperm, breed you! Yea, that's it, make you my hot little bitch! Imagine that, the President's son is MY hot little boy whore!" and that put them both over the edge.
"Ohhhhhhgod!"Mark blurted as quietly as he could, his body starting to jerk and convulse, making a muddy little spot at the head of his dick with rapidly squirted boy stuff and with him, Jake started to spurt a full load of pent up semen into the sixteen year olds dirty hands which helped Mark finish himself off.
For a while they just lay there panting and smiling in the darkness, "Good one man, super in fact," Jake finally said.
"Wow, wouldn't mind that again, that was hot!" Mark replied and Jake nodded silently, but the brave boy's self-motivated initiative in the field under fire and duress had an additional effect on Jake.
Suddenly, as if he had been dormant for centuries, Jake's eyes popped open. What was he doing just laying there passively in the cell? He was a trained U.S. Navy Seal, trained in psychological warfare and advantage. Father and son Contreras aside, these other South Americans guards were simpletons. He took in and let out a big deep breath,
"That was great Mark, you're great, so, you ready to try and bust out of here and teach Jorge and Manual a lesson in American ingenuity?"
"What? Are you nuts? They have guns and shit and there must be fifty of them!"
"Forty-eight to be exact. Nope, not nuts, just proud of you Mark, but you've earned a full share in the decision. If you're not down with it, we'll stay put, but I think I can cajole that idiot guard to let us out of here to pee. I should be able to take advantage of him and spring us. Then I can try to get to Gomez and my men."
"Sounds risky," Mark said.
"Yup, it is. Think about it Mark, no hurry. You're … well, you've got a good mind and a lot of inner strength Mark, you'd make a great Seal."
"I would?!" Mark said, shocked, "Wow, Jake … that's really … wow!" Mark said quite flattered and a little overwhelmed actually at the sincere compliment.
"I don't know, what's the worst that can happen?" Mark then wisely asked.
"We get caught. Manuel will never kill us, he might torture me with that battery thing and let Jorge whip the living daylights out of you Mark, he just won't allow anything permanent so as to give his American contacts any advantage."
"Then we can't do it! I don't want that car battery thing near you!" Mark said quickly, but deep down, hearing or seeing Jake's magnificent body have to take that kind of tortuous pain was lurking as a turn-on, as sick as he felt about it, but he wasn't the only one.
Few humans knew what Seals did to each other during their secretive jungle training in this camp in Belize to make sure they could withstand that kind of torture under real captivity. That is why the car battery was there in the first place, albeit used in a modified fashion. In fact, nobody but he and Gomez knew what sometimes happened in Jake's home basement dungeon two or three times a year and just for Jake's personal kinky sex kicks, but once again, in a way that was safe and not harmful! But Jake was not about to let on to Mark about that for awhile, if ever.
Mark swallowed and gave into the possibility, "I say, let's go for the glory Jake. Maybe I'm nuts, but I hate doing nothing."
And in fact, Jake hated doing nothing as well and didn't give things any more thought. He wanted to do the same, "OK buddy. You follow my lead, when I give an order, you do it fast, no hesitation, got it?"
Mark grinned, a new excitement quickly brewing in his mind, heart, gut and dick, "Yes Sir Captain Shiller!" Mark hissed.
Jake waited a little while, then when he heard the guard move around, he hissed,
"Guard! Señor! Por favor!" and the man came over, "What do you want pig!?"
"Piss, we need to piss!"
"Piss in your cage!"
"No! Infection could happen when the bugs come. You'll hurt your valuable property and make Contreras angry with you. Get us out, let us piss in the jungle, that way you are doing a good job for your important boss!"
Mark grinned. He knew it would work, this was fucking awesome!
The guard sighed, "Fucking maricón bastards, so much trouble," and opened the cage, standing back and pointing the automatic weapon at the boy and man, "Get up yourselves and be quiet and quick about it!"
Jake and Mark raised as a unit, then Jake turned up the heat, "Unshackle our legs, so we don't fall. The boy could break his leg and damage his value!"
"Do it yourself, but I'm watching, you tricky bastard American!"
It was working better than Jake had hoped for. When they were freed of each other and despite that their ankles were still lashed one to another and hands still shackled behind, Jake and Mark hobbled nearby to where the clearing instantly became dense jungle and went behind a large tree trunk.
"Don't move a muscle Mark, but when that guard comes over, you just go limp. I'm going to pick you up and we're going to drop kick that mother-fucker's jaw into unconsciousness with all of our combined body weight, OK?"
Mark nodded, his dick even getting hard!
"Where the fuck are you bastard maricóns?!" the guard complained and came over, the rifle nuzzle pointed at the tree.
The guard was getting worried that he would be held accountable for any screw ups and coming forward and around the tree's wide trunk too quickly, caught Jake's vision. In a flash, Mark went limp, Jake picked him up and fell back with his knees drawn up and Mark's too. Four bone crunching feet launched themselves to the guard's jaw causing instant unconsciousness. The man dropped like a rock.
Jake now had time to unshackle them both from the non-locked devices and they were off into the jungle, Mark elated, but Jake was not so sure. If Contreras found out too soon of their escape, he knew that Gomez and his men were at risk. He had to try and get to them first!
But as fast as Jake tried to work to his goal, when he finally got there, both Jorge and Manuel had deadly weapons trained on Gomez and his men.
"You may as well come in and surrender Captain. I will not kill you or the boy, but I will not hesitate to put a bullet into each of your men's skulls including your Sergeant here!" Manuel said malevolently.
Mark nodded to Jake, "God that was fun, but it's over," and Mark surrendered himself first, Jake close behind without argument. The night would be spent together, but with two guards and no talking, no movement allowed.
* * * * * * * * * *
Nothing that either Jake or Mark had anticipated the prior night as reprisals for their attempted escape or as fantasy in their minds was now remotely sexy. Strung up side by side under the arms of rigged "hangman's" poles, wrists shackled up into painfully dangling positions, suspended by tackle and block chains; one was on his tip-toes, Jake, and the other by flat feet, Mark. Jorge and Manuel punished both man and teen side by side as a team as their rebel soldier comrades laughed, jeered, whistled, cat-called and grabbed their packages.
Some looked like they would be beating off their erections sooner than later. One looked like he had already spontaneously ejaculated inside of his fatigues. Sergeant Gomez and his men were not totally unaffected as well. A few unnamed of the Captain's team had been under the Captain's exotic S/M treatment in Jake's home while on leave from duty and greatly admired everything about their commander's personhood, outside and in and could not help their erections, despite the awful scene in front of them. Gomez himself simply wanted to slit both throats, Manuel's and Jorge's.
Jorge's whipping Mark's thighs and buttocks, chest and back with a rather large black leather strap or using a smaller leather multi-tailed cat to painfully abuse Mark's genitals out front with stinging cuts was good evidence of what the father had taught the son of the art of brutal punishment. The idea was maximal pain and humiliation, leaving nothing that a good round of fist fighting would not otherwise leave for bruising, no matter the location of the marks. No skin was to be broken, but didn't have to be.
That was Mark's lot with Jorge. He screamed and yelled and it hurt like hell in all the wrong ways, but that was OK. Jake was next to him, that was good, but was also the problem. Manuel was much harder and meaner to Jake. Jake was not the President's son and was, if anything, expendable to an extent. Manuel beat the crap out of Jake's face with his fists and pummeled his body with even more punches and kicks, yelling and screaming at Jake.
Nothing would be broken, no, but he would be bloodied and taught that if you wanted to fool around and make mistakes in his part of the world, there was a price to be paid. Twice, Manuel kneed Jake in the groin, causing Jake to wretch with pain and nausea, his shoulder and chest muscles in great pain from the involuntary muscular urges to double up from his abdomen.
Mark's face was a wretched mess of guilt, shame and abject misery over Jake, in between his own much milder abuse from Jorge. It had been his idea to allow his fantasies to overcome good judgment and common sense. He had been given a real even choice in trying to escape or not and had let his wretched fantasies make the decision for him.
"Stupid damn fucking idiot!!!" Mark screamed inside his own head at himself and he was desperate not to cry, but it was hard not too when the man he now so desperately loved was being treated as less than human by dirty animals in Mark's eyes.
Finally, the beating and whipping stopped. Water was hurled their way and splashed them both front of back. Jake looked up at Mark, his face hamburger in some places, but no broken bones or lost teeth. Manuel Contreras was a master at this sort of thing and usually knew his limits.
In many ways, however, Manuel knew he was getting a little carried away for just the thrill of giving his old adversary a taste of his power. Would it be revisited upon him someday from Jake? Maybe; but that was the price he might pay into the future for the dangerous international game he loved to play.
Besides, doing this side by side, father with son, was an added incentive and he was proud of Jorge for being careful with Mark Bushnell's body, but exacting severe pain from the boy nonetheless. The best part, was the young maricón's penis was soft and shrunken, no sexual pleasure for the young American bastard and powerful President's son.
Mark winced at first at what he saw, but then stopped and let his face grow solemn and respectful. Mark wanted to be strong for Jake, but made sure he saw every trickle of blood, every abrasion and swelling up and down Jake's beautiful male body and would not forget the price he had exacted for his bad decision. Jake was a monster of perseverance and pride and it showed, even if his body looked swallowed up in the marks of brutality.
Jake nodded, but wisely said nothing, appreciating how wretchedly hard it was for a teen as young as Mark Bushnell to have to see Jake this way or to take the pain he was from Jorge. One thing could not be stopped, however. Jake felt Mark's love across the gap, saw it, felt it and returned it by his mind's strength alone. It was important to him now, important to them both.
"Well, now. Isn't this nice? Man and boy feeling the love for each other, hey Jorge?" Manuel said with drippy sarcasm seeing the looks.
"Yes father, as you can see, the maricóns cannot get it up! What's the matter Mark Bushnell?! Huh? Not good enough?" and he spat at Mark's face. Mark said nothing, showed no emotion and just looked away from Jorge, wisely.
"Enough of this play Jorge. Get the cameras, we will film the man fucking the boy. It will be very useful, worth millions of dollars against that idiot Bushnell. Why does he think he can beat me at this cat and mouse game we play, I wonder?"
"I don't know father, but I'm bored as well, so let's get this done. I need a real woman to fuck, not this shitty maricón," and Jorge walked off.
Mark was glad for the news of anything that would keep the dicks of the brutal dickheads around them out of his ass. No matter how painful it would be, if it was Jake fucking him, he would be glad and proud for all of it and if anything, it would only help him to love and respect Jake all the more. He would get off on it in his head as well, just to spite Contreras, father and son, and even if he couldn't on its own merits or because of pain or wouldn't be allowed to get off with a load of expended semen by his captors to outside of his body.
Jake on the other hand was terrified of his feelings. He did not want his first time with Mark to be like this, not at all. At first, when he was with Mark in the safe haven of the culvert, Jake had thought that he would take Mark's cherry in the compound later, in their field cot under the mosquito netting, the rare sounds and sights of the surrounding exotic jungle environment around them as a most inviting and erotic atmosphere. Gomez and his men would be nearby, they would know, but that would be OK with Mark and he both, if not an additional titillating presence of true comradeship after all was said and done.
Or maybe he would take Mark out into the jungle itself and after hacking out a small "love nest" in the thick jungle wilds with his razor sharp machete, make love to the boy in a way and in a place that no boy could ever boast louder should he ever choose to reveal it to intimate others. But not like this, forced by the savage Contreras and his identical spawn, son Jorge, to fuck Mark under their conditions and not his or Mark's. But what could do now? Nothing and it was that nothingness that even Jake Shiller had never faced in this way before.
The small video cameras were set up and man and boy released and taken to the old wooden table, Jake seething with hatred for Contreras, desperate to not get it up, to not have an erection and block the whole thing. Yes, Contreras might do the worst to him, bring out the car battery, too fucking bad. The question that loomed then, is what damage would it do to Mark to have to see that? Fuck!!
"OK Captain, fuck your bitch, let's see your cock get hard. Need some help? Want the boy to suck on it? Go ahead, command him, make the pig President's son your filthy little animal whore!" Manuel commanded with disdain.
Mark could sense the danger, this needed to end. He was OK with it, maybe more than OK later, "Please sir, let me," Mark said softly, bringing jeers and verbal abuse from the soldiers, but Jake blocked them out.
"No, I don't want it to be this way Mark," and that brought more verbal humiliations upon both of them.
"It's OK! Really it is! I'll get off on it, you should too, please!" Mark begged and then got down on his knees in front of Jake, once again, Contreras and his son and the rebels jeering and shouting while even the weakest of Jake's men knew nothing but hatred for what was happening to their hero, Jake, but also a new hero in their midst, Mark.
Jake sighed. He had to make a decision. What would it be? Give in to Mark and Contreras or listen to his heart and trust that somehow, he would survive to do it right!
"Nooo!! Go fuck yourself Contreras! Ain't gonna happen on my watch!" Jake jeered back at the angry rebel. Gomez and his men cheered! Mark stood up and didn't know what to think, afraid for Jake, but willing to take his lead,
"Yea! Go fuck yourself Jorge, you piece of SHIT!!" Mark yelled at the rebel leader's son, Jorge livid at this development who looked at his father with outrage.
"You will be very sorry Captain. I know you can take the torture of the car battery, but can your little whelp take the psychological abuse. Sí? or No Señor?" Manuel leveled the very real threat at both man and boy.
Jake felt he needed Mark's decision, he would not act with his consent. Mark so wanted to have things Jake's way. He believed in Jake and believed in love for the first time ever and no matter he was sixteen. He may as well be sixty-one. Now, the question was, was Mark strong enough to withstand what Contreras promised to do and remain undaunted?! Mark made up his mind,
"You decide Jake, I'm with you no matter what, I … I love you, OK?" Mark said with an edge of emotion in his voice, but nobody said anything on either side after the confession, all ears riveted. Manuel looked at Jorge. Manuel was a wise man, but now he was somewhat obsessed with this problem in front of him. He already knew he was defeated by the boy's confession and part of him wanted to tear Mark Bushnell's throat from his body, realizing his own and his son's would be forfeit for such a revenge. Jake knew there would be a painful price for his love as well and nodded to Mark, "I love you too Mark! You lose Contreras! Stop talking and do it you coward!" and Jake's men cheered whereas the rebels mumbled their disapproval of this whole thing about love between men. Mark was not surprised and decided to make Jake proud of him by not reacting when the time came.
Manuel Contreras had heard enough, he needed to hear Jake Shilling scream and wanted to see the look on the boy's face as well, "Get it Jorge! I will show you how to deal out real pain!"
"Sí, Papa!" Jorge said with sick delight and got the car battery ready even as Manuel's men were chaining Jake back up, other men carefully guarding Mark so that he must witness the torture!
But as the initial sparks flew as Manuel testing the coppers against each other in front of Jakes dangling naked genitals, Mark wished he had discouraged it. His mettle was failing, but he had to honor Jake by not reacting! He had too!!
Jake looked down at the coppers just before they were touched to their contact points on his body, then looked up and closed his eyes. He knew what to expect.
Mark didn't know what to expect, save that when finally the electricity hit Jake's genitals and he shook like a helplessly rattled puppet dangling from his chains, screaming so loudly that Mark nearly fell down to his knees in horror, Mark almost screamed for it to stop right then and there.
Manual stepped back and looked at Mark, pleased at what he saw. Mark knew it was now a mistake to react, but it was too late. Manuel did it again, and longer! Jake screamed no matter that he did not want to, the pain in his penis and testicles excruciatingly severe, the level of electricity much higher than he and Gomez had played at back in his home dungeon as would be expected. Nobody could truly train for this kind of torture.
Mark's eyes filled with tears, he could not help it. Jorge saw this, "Look, the bitch is crying for its mommy!"
Mark looked at Jorge and didn't care anymore. "You FUCKING BASTARD PIECE OF SHIT!!" and breaking from the two rebels who had hands on him, flew at Jorge full steam, knocking them both to the ground, Mark's fists flying right and left.
The rebels had Mark off of Jorge in an instant however, both boys shaking and trembling hard with mutual hatred.
"You will PAY for your mistake maricón!!" Jorge hissed and slapped Mark's face hard!
"Chain him UP! I want to teach him a lesson father, please! Let me use the car battery on him!"
Manuel nodded, "Very well my son. It is his own fault!"
"No Contreras! Don't! I'll arrange for any amount of money that you want!" Jake said, nearly in a panic.
"No Captain. I will get the money I want. Your boy bitch is a bastard with no respect for me or my son or his poor position, he must learn."
Mark knew this was it. He was not going to live through this! How could he?! Mark was ready to piss himself and looked at Jake. Jake was helpless and could only transmit his love and some kind of strength to Mark with his eyes, and it seemed a pathetic and useless gesture.
The car battery was readied, Manuel whispering instructions into Jorge's ear, last minute torture suggestions. Jorge nodded and brandished the coppers together, making sparks fly into Mark's face. He smelled the awful ozone stench and their eyes met. Jorge spoke,
"You are a pathetic excused for a male! This electricity will teach you that I am a man, and you are a filthy stinking piece of American shit, as is your father, the pig President!"
Mark had never been this scared shitless in his life, but spat in Jorge's face, "Suck my dick motherfucker!!"
Jake, Gomez and all his men cheered! Jorge, livid with rage, dropped the coppers and kneed Mark, hard, in the groin and Mark's body clenched up with a pain he had never known before, but he could not double up into a ball like his body begged him to do! He could only groan loudly and helplessly thrash about, tears flowing freely as one leg, then the other flexed up and down trying to dissipate the awful genital and ache in his sides. He wanted to throw up as well but could not.
"That's enough of your bullshit Contreras!!" Jake yelled and that yielded him two gut wrenching punches to his abdomen, which did double the weakened man over.
"Hold him STILL!" Jorge yelled and prepared the coppers, "You will now know who your real boss is you fucking little maricón." Jorge said with a low evil tone.
Jorge made one last touch of the coppers and started to laugh and advanced them towards the contact points on Mark's genitals. Mark closed his eyes and tried with all his might to prepare for the worst!!! …
* * * * * * * * * *
"Hold it RIGHT there ASSHOLES! Party's OVER! Nobody move an inch unless you want you and your son Contreras to get your brains blown out! " the loud manly voice came. Everyone froze and there was this massive clicking of automatic weapons, American ones, the safeties clicked off of their trigger guards, one-hundred of them actually from all points on the compass, their owners quickly advancing in from the perimeter, disarming and taking the rebels hostage, all forty-eight of them.
Well, not everyone froze. Mark manfully lifted his aching body up using his chains as leverage and just like he had done with the guard from the night before, cold-cocked the distracted Jorge right under the chin, his body flying back a good three feet to boot. Jake rushed to Mark, who was now maximally fatigued from his effort and picked him up into his arms as other of Colonel Kline's Black Ops men and operatives flew to Jake's side to unshackle the brave boy.
Jake looked down at Mark, tears streaming from his eyes making a delicate mud of filth slowly streaming down his face, his nose already leaking the overage from his nostrils, Mark looked up, Jake's face and head back-lit from the hot and high late morning sun and making a small prism halo around Jake's head and neck. Mark smiled, he had done it, he had saved his own pride and dignity and his powerful archangel protector was holding him safely in his arms.
There was no turning back, and though Jake's body was exhausted, he lifted Mark's weight up and collapsed to his knees as he softly kissed Mark softly on his lips, then let go of Mark who got up on his knees, wrapped his arms around Jake's torso, and Jake's around his. They kissed undisturbed and unobserved as the men around them went about the business of securing the area, save the eyes of Sergeant Gomez and his men as they watched and nodded their approvals, some with shit-eating grins.
Manuel Contreras was now cuffed and in custody for the moment anyway, his son sequestered as well and away from the sight. Manuel could see the pair kissing and hugging and even he in his hatred and derision for such a sight, even he could feel that, in fact, love, no matter if two men, is stronger than all the hatred even he could muster in his hardened black heart.
Medics now escorted Jake and Mark back to the cooling shade and shelter at the compound, spit-bathing them both side by side and applying bandages and helping to hold ice packs as they sat side by side on a cot. Finally Jake could find some relaxation from his aching body and looking over at his brave companion smirked, "Suck my dick motherfucker?"
Mark grinned and started to chuckle, but that hurt too much too, "I had to say something, just to buy time I guess."
Jake grinned, "You are a piece of work Mark Bushnell and it's a pleasure to know you, Sir."
Mark's face softened, "No, I'm not the "Sir" in this relationship Captain, please never say that again. That honor belongs to you, Captain Shiller, Sir. You've made me the happiest I've ever been, that's all I need and want, well, that and for you to be at my side 24/7 from now on, Sir."
Jake's face grew solemn as well, "Will do Mark, and it was worth it for me to see what a man you really are."
Just then Colonel Kline came up, Gomez and the rest of Jake's crew close behind. The Colonel took the cigar out of his mouth and just before he gave it to Jake, looked at Mark and held it out to him, "Big balls Mr. Bushnell, your Dad would be proud, want a smoke?"
Mark grinned, "No thanks, you think my Dad should know about this?"
"No, that would not be wise. Besides, this is a top secret operation that even he will not have detailed access to."
"Far out!!" Mark smirked as Jake took the cigar and had a big nice puff, then blandly said, "Took your time Colonel," and looked up at the superior officer.
"You know me Captain, always in for the big entrance, just like in the movies!" and even Mark had to laugh.
After the medic's attentions were finished, two other soldiers helped Mark into his own new pair of operation camo-fatigues, minus the shirt. He stayed shirtless, but now had a cool soft camo-baseball style cap, with a stylized sewn in logo on it that represented Captain Shiller's operation group, codenamed "Cap's Devil Squad," a small red impish figure of a boyish devil holding a red pitch fork and grinning most suspiciously.
Mark looked at it and laughed, "Yes! Very cool!"
Jake introduced his five men and Sergeant Gomez to Mark and he didn't get all of their names fixed in his mind yet, but they immediately treated Mark like one of their own, well, more like a favored young pup or mascot, like Mark would enjoy.
It was no surprise to Mark when he found out that Contreras and his son along with his rebel army would be escorted out of the area and back to Columbia, unharmed and untouched. It was the nature of the international political game they all played, but Mark didn't care.
Hardly two hours later, as a very tired Mark Bushnell napped under a mosquito netting in Captain Shiller's personal space area in the open aired compound cabana, an official White House Press Corps media release went into the vast internet and major network pipelines simultaneously with two extraordinary "eyes only" documents that went to only one receiver.
One was a facsimile of Presidential Executive Order #137099 piped directly to Captain Jake Shiller, U.S. Navy, cc: Mark Bushnell, code "Squire," signed by Glenn W Bushnell and General Francis Riddick, DOD. The other was a personal letter addressed to Mark Bushnell from "his parents."
The public and media received their release and as planned, immediately started down the wrong railroad tracks as intended, but happy in their ignorance:
"Sixteen year old Mark Bushnell, son of President Glenn W Bushnell was located today by the FBI having skipped out of his school in Denver. He was found with a group of male and female friends at a party smoking marijuana. A spokesman for the family indicated that the boy will be placed in a very private and exclusive residential treatment program in an undetermined location for a minimum of eight weeks and will resume school at a later date."
Mr. Parks would hear and read this news release just like everyone, and finally recognized who Mark Jones really was. Despite herculean efforts to somehow benefit himself from his own personal knowledge about what really happened, at least from his miniscule perspective, he failed miserably.
No news agency or major internet outlet would take his side of the thing, although a hundred chat rooms and rumor blogs had fun with it. In fact, poor "Mr. Clean" decided to quit the S/M world after that and would go on to become a florist, his life's ambition and really happy at last!
When Jake read the communication, the Executive order, and showed it to the Sergeant Gomez, Gomez shook his head side to side and grinned ear to ear.
"Shouldn't you wake him sir and let him know about all this shit?" Gomez smiled at Jake. Jake smiled, "No, let him rest, he's gonna need it, don't you think Sergeant?"
"Yes Sir! That is affirma-TIVE!"
Colonel Kline read the order, "Impressive. Frankly I didn't know even the President could do this, but what the hell, hey Jake?"
"What the hell indeed Sir. Say, I think this calls for a little Party, Black Ops style, what do you think Sir?"
"That's affirmative Captain, radio it in. Tell Sparky, 'Top Shelf,'my order, and start up the process there in the order, might as well get Operation Military School under way for your pup there Captain. Good job by the way Jake."
"It was a fuck up sir," Jake confessed.
"Ah shit Jake, shut up. I fucked up too. Only in the U.S. Military can two fuck-ups result in a perfect result."
Jake chuckled, "Yes Sir! You're right about that!"
Ninety minutes later, Mark awoke and sat up, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He was not at boarding school in boring Denver, he was with the most awesome men and man in the world in a steamy jungle in Belize, but then spied two folded up papers at the foot of the bed, both with short messages, "Mark, read these and then get your ass out here on the double!" signed Jake.
Mark opened the official executive order from his father first. He blushed and stood up, "What the holy FUCK!?" his voice squeaked! Then he read the personal letter and just sighed and smiled. Then he read both again. The executive order read:
Executive Order #137099
From: Glenn W Bushnell, Pres. U.S.
Francis J. Riddick, General, DOD
To: Mark Bushnell, Son
Captain Jake Shiller, U.S. Navy, Secret Service Specialist
It is the order of the President of the United States that:
1. Mark Bushnell is hereby put under punishment by his father for willfully putting himself at risk and worrying his mother as well as three escapes from boarding academy in Colorado.Signed: Glenn W Bushnell, Pres. U.S. – General Francis J. Riddick, DOD
2. Said punishment shall consist of the following:
a. You are terminated from boarding school in Colorado.
b. You are being sent to a very strict military school unless you obey parts c.through g.
c. You will undergo combined military boot camp training and schooling under the auspices of General Francis Riddick who shall coordinate your boot training with Captain Jake Shiller and his men in any manner they deem wise and necessary.
d. You shall receive educational tutoring by trained personnel from the U.S. Navel Military Academy,Annapolis, MD, onsite, during your boot camp training, standard testing to be given on a periodic basis.
e. Discipline shall be meted out by Captain Shiller and his men as they deem necessary including any "motivational" sessions ad lib.
f. Such training and schooling shall commence immediately by reading this communication and last for the duration of your last two secondary education years at a minimum.
g. Direct any complaints to your mother.
3. Captain Jake Shiller is commended for his role in making a "man" of son Mark.
4. Son Mark is commended for acts of bravery and courage on his own behalf.
* * * * * * * * * *
The personal letter to Mark was as follows:
We understand that you underwent an extraordinary test of courage and strength and passed with flying colors. We don't know and don't need to know the details. Know only that you are loved by us both, that the Executive Order is quite real, but was meant for your own good and safety and quite frankly, we both thought it would please you. Hope to see you soon.
Love Mom and Dad
PS – Mark. Despite what you think of me and my politics, I don't hate you, I love you very much. Just give some time to accept
"you know what."
* * * * * * * * * *
Marks emotions rose up very high but he sighed and let them fade off, then found a pen and jotted a reply at the bottom of the letter to be faxed back to his parents:
Dear Mom and Dad:
Mom: I love you. I miss you.
Dad: I think you're a terrible President politically, but a great Dad nonetheless. As for "you know what," get over it, I have.
Signed: Your son Mark.
* * * * * * * * * *
Mark stood and consciously put on his great new "head cover" on his head, may as well get used to military terminology. Mark now knew that he was about to get a good ass kicking by men who he not only respected, but were his new teachers and he was now low man on the totem pole, a "squid," if you will. But that suited Mark just fine.
He sighed and walked out to the bee-hive of camp activity. There were a lot of military men in the camp at the moment. He saw plumes of blue smoke and knew where Jake and the Colonel were, so he followed the marker.
"Sir," Mark said just a little shyly, not really knowing how to react just yet as he stood just in back of the two men.
Jake and the Colonel turned. Jake took the cigar from his mouth and looked at him, "Read the order?" Jake asked.
"Yes Sir," Mark said without elaboration. Nobody wanted to hear anything else much from a squid, Mark knew that much.
"Any question squid?" Jake then tested him.
"No Sir," Mark replied his dick instantly hard just by saying the small words, but to a man that he admired, respected, loved and lusted for. Jake saw the telltale bulge, it was quite obvious. He reached over and squeezed Mark's package, but Mark refrained from any sounds, internally loving every moment of it.
"Seems the private has a problem Captain, good luck with that," and Kline wandered off grinning ear to ear, his helicopter delivery was due soon anyway for "the party."
"At ease private," Jake said, then ruffled Mark's head.
"So, Mark, what do you think? Can you live with your Dad's orders?"
Mark smiled, "I didn't know he cared that much. It means a lot really. I just hope … no … I mean, yes Sir, I can and will live up my end of the bargain, Sir!"
"Look Mark. This doesn't mean that I … that I don't love you very much. I do. I meant what I said during our ordeal with Contreras, I trust you do too?"
"Yes, I do … Jake … and I want you to be the first still, but I would never take advantage. Hell, Dad has kind of dressed me down some anyway."
"Yea, but you love it. I know you do and I will be your first and nothing will interfere with that. As for your training and school, it'll be very tough but fair but you'll never regret it, I guarantee it, OK?"
Mark grinned, "OK, I'm all yours Captain."
"Including this?" Jake smiled, squeezing Mark's swollen package.
"Including that, Sir!" Mark grinned and now did moan a little.
Jake let go and pointed to an incoming chopper, "Might as well get started early squid. You meet that chopper with the Colonel and do what he tells you. Then after the party, if you like, we'll take care of that little problem of yours, OK?"
Mark smiled, "Yes Sir Captain," and ran off towards the sounds of the incoming aircraft.
Six hours later, under a mosquito-net covered cot in the jungle compound, lanterns hissing and casting their warbling yellow lights here and there, bugs flying, snakes slithering about looking for vermin in the nearby thick jungle and men, soldiers, laughing nearby, blowing cigar smoke and hoisting the remainder of multiple quarts of Jack Daniels Whiskey to their lips …
"I thought this was your first time?!" Jake said, naked, passively lying on his back, his head propped up on a pillow as Mark Bushnell, also naked, was perving around on top of him like a man possessed with enough lust for the both of them.
Mark paused long enough only to rest his aching jaw from slurping down Jake's massive boner for the twentieth time, "I said I was a virgin, I never said I didn't know what I wanted to do when I got the chance," then swiveled his ass around to Jake's face,
"Shut up and eat my ass out Captain and that's an order!"
"Yes sir Mr. Bushnell," Jake said.
A short while later, Executive order #137099 lay helplessly crumpled up on the wooden floor of the cabana on the outside of that netted cot, a small centipede squirreling its way over the paper while above on the cot, Jake entered the boy that he loved and took the boy's cherry, just like the man in the boy had wanted all along.
The night grew longer, the soldiers went to bed, the lights dimmed and the jungle hummed its usual sounds, one man's head resting and sleeping on another man's chest under that same netting.
© Copyright PJ Franklin June 1, 2009
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Last updated: June 1, 2009