Date: Sat, 05 May 2018 22:11:14 +0000 From: Jack Dawson Subject: The Mercenary. Part Five Gay: Adult/Youth; Authoritarian The Mercenary. By Jackdaw Part Five: Brazzaville, Republic of the Congo August 1997 When you're 6'4'' and over 200lbs of pure muscle, the tailgate of an army jeep is the perfect place for fucking boys on. Favre debated fucking Centime doggy style but he knew he'd made the right choice to fuck him face up with the boy's legs on his own shoulders when the boy started crying out. Favre turned his head and clasped the boy's smooth calf in his left hand and bit into it. Hard. The boy whelped in pain and fear but also quietened down. "You need to understand and accept," snarled Favre, "that you are not going to enjoy this. And that I am going to enjoy it very, very, much." Favre saw the fear enter the boy's rounded eyes at that point and made another decision: he was going to make sure the boy got erect and shot his load. And when he did it Favre knew exactly what he was going to say: "See boy, you worthless faggot? You've just shot your load. You wanted this. You enjoyed this. You asked for this." The boy's dark skin was glistening in the tropical heat and from his fear. Favre could smell the acrid odour of black African skin coming through the carbolic soap of the orphanage. It made him dislike the boy even more. His dislike heightened the erotic charge, made his cock harder. The jeep was parked off track amongst the bushes just beyond the Itatolo cemetery in the north of the city. They wouldn't be disturbed. "This is where my Mother is buried" said Centime 20 minutes earlier when they had turned into the chaotic space that served as the cemetery for the whole city of Brazzaville and it's 2.5 million inhabitants. "Where is your Father buried?" asked Favre. "We do not know," came the sullen reply. "Then I will teach you what your Father cannot teach you," replied the Legionary. He caught the boy's reluctant interrogation at that strange remark and so gestured towards the outline of his hardening cock in his tight Legionary pantalon: "What real men do with this, Centime." "I know what that is for," returned the boy scornfully, defying the man. As if he did not know where babies came from! "You know what this is for, big man, do you?" "Of course. This is for the making of babies with a woman," replied the boy triumphantly. "Wrong" said Favre. "This is for fucking boys in the arse until they submit. And I am going to show you how I do it." Of course the boy had tried to run as soon as the jeep had come to a halt. But Favre knew the seatbelt was tricky to undo and the boy barely got his hands to the buckle before he felt a stunning blow to the side of his head with the flat of Favre's powerful hand. "If you try to run I shall cut you" he said, showing his Legionaire's knife. "And if you do run I shall throw it in your back and then leave you to bleed out here. And I will tell Sr Jeanne-Francoise that you ran away. And she will believe me. Because I am a white man. And I am French. And I am a Legionary. And I was the kind man that took you for a drive. And you are the miserable kid who is unhappy all the time. And no-one cares if you live or die." He could see Centime follow the line of impeccable Gallic logic. And he saw the Fight or Flight response begin to ebb as the boy realised that this was going to happen and he could do nothing about it. He was still sitting belted into his chair when the Frenchman reached over and twisted his nipples hard. The boy gasped in pain. "Think of yourself as my little black slave boy, Centime. And I am free to do whatever I want with you." Centime looked up and saw the brilliant white clouds passing across the beautiful blue sky. This soldier had him on his back, his short thrown behind him into the jeep, his backside exposed. He was mortified, embarassed and scared. The Frenchman was big and strong, very strong. And very clear. And he couldn't help himself he began to cry out, screaming for help. Suddenly a sharp pain pierced his calf - the man was biting him! He was a white devil! He would surely devour him! And now the man's mouth was at his hole! Would he eat him there, too? And then Centime gasped in pleasure, inspite of his terror. As the man's mouth licked and kissed him there and licked up towards his balls and then started licking his cock. He twisted in pleasure and guilt as his cock grew hard in the man's mouth. Six inches, noted Favre with a smile on his lips. These African boys are bigger. Time to show him a real man cock though. And he began stroking the boys cock and balls with his own massive tool. Slapping it into the boys skinny inner thighs and frotting their two cocks together the boy understood that this man was more powerful and that he was impotent here. Favre spat on his fingers and placed them at Centime's boicunt and start pushing them in. The boy's holed closed instinctively - it wasn't made for invasion - and Favre felt the desire building up in his own loins at the sight of its resistance. But the boipussy muscle, like all muscles, can't show resistance forever. And Favre knew when to recognise its moment of relaxation. The fingers went in and the boy gasped with pain at the violation. Favre lent over and took the boy's cock in his mouth again. Reinforcing the contradiction and the humiliation, confusing the pain and the pleasure. By the time he placed his mushroom head at the entrance to Centime's boicunt, the boy was lying back defeated with an erection he was holding in his right hand. Favre pushed in and the boy cried out and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. Tears. Favre noticed with satisfaction. The hole had relaxed a little bit but this was a new kind of invader, forcing its way in. Favre pinched the boy's nipples again twisting them and then played with his cock, all the while exerting pressure and saying 'relax' 'relax' don't fight it. "It's too big" pleaded the boy with a grimace, "please take it out." "It is too big," agreed the Legionary, "and there's no way I'm taking it out." 4 inches in, Favre recognised he was meeting a new resistance in his efforts to rape the boy: "You take a shit yet today, boy?" "No monsieur" from the whimpering Centime. Favre closed his eyes. Breathed in the exquisite taste of the boy's abject humiliation and thrust hard. The boy's back and legs sprung up at the pain caused and Favre caught the upward movement of the boy in his arms and kissed him on the mouth. Biting the boy's lips and holding their embrace in his strong arms squeezing the breath out of him. The boy was overcome with pain and humiliation and fear. Favre was in his element. He started moving his cock in and out through the shit, catching the smell of it when he pulled out. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, slave boy" he said. Each thrust brought more confusion and pain to Centime and the erotic thrill of it coursed through Favre's veins like a drug. And he knew he could keep this up for hours. But time was of the essence and the jeep, whilst concealed, was in a public place. Anyone might come along. Favre pulled out and flipped the weakened boy over onto his front, the boy's feet now touching the ground and his tummy bent over the tailgate. Favre entered him from behind and once again, the boy's back shot upwards with the pain of the violation. Favre entered in to about 7inches and held his cock in the boy. He reached around and started masturbating the boy's cock, feeling it harden and lengthen in his strong hands. Favre kept on pumping and started to fill the slight spasms around his cock, recognising the clenching sphincter muscle of the boy as he drew towards orgasm. As the boys cum spilled out on to the ground beneath the jeep tailgate and the boy gasped with pleasure inspite of himself, Favre held him close, bit his earlobe and whispered, "See boy, you worthless faggot? You've just shot your load. You wanted this. You enjoyed this. You asked for this. Now find your shorts and put them on." On the drive back to the orphanage, Centime received his instructions. "If you mention this to anyone, faggot, I will come to you and I will kill you. We Legionaries are trained for this. I will do this to you. When we get to the orphanage you and I will go find Sr Jeanne-Francoise and you will say with a huge smile on your face that you had a very happy afternoon and you are very grateful and that you hope Lieutenant Favre can come often to spend time with you and take you on drives. And then you will turn to me, shake my hand, and thank me. Understood?" The boy's mute response was greeted with another flat of the hand to his ear. "Understood you black faggot boicunt?" "Understood, Monsieur." ... The Sister clapped her hands at their return, seeing their smiling, excited faces. The good Lieutenant couldn't come in for refreshment, had to get to the barracks, but how kind his words of encouragement and how thoughtful the moment of farewell when they all shook hands and this kind and handsome French man knew exactly what to say. She was quite sure she had never met a more thoughtful, generous soldier ever: "Au revoir, Monsieur." - "Au revoir ma soeur." "Au revoir, Monsieur." - "Au revoir petit Simon. See you very soon."