Not for Self

By Max H.

Most Nifty readers will be too young to remember Don Winslow of the Navy.  The brainchild of Frank V. Martinek, Winslow was the hero of books, comic books, a radio series, and two movie series in the 1930's and 40s.

A lieutenant commander, Winslow was assigned, along with his sidekick, Lt. "Red" Pennington, to U. S. Naval Intelligence, where in the pre-war years of the late thirties, he did mostly counter-espionage work, often in conflict with The Scorpion, an international mastermind in league with the Axis powers.

Winslow was tall, dark, and handsome in a typical 1930's way, resembling, perhaps, Tyrone Power. Pennington, a few years younger, was characterized by his boyish look and, obviously, his red hair.

So far as I know, all of the copyrights on the Don Winslow material have expired.  What appears below is purely my fantasy, or fan-fic if you will, using the once-popular heroes. It was not written for profit, except perhaps for an approving email or two.



It was a chilly November night in 1938.  Two U. S. Navy officers crossed the lobby of one of Washington's most exclusive hotels, both wearing their blue uniforms with the white hats.  The younger, slightly shorter of the two carried a black briefcase.

"Are you sure you put in that thing?" the taller one asked.

"Yes, boss," the other said.  After all there was no reason to stand on rank, given what was about to happen.

The desk clerk gave them a nod as they passed.  

"Was that bastard smirking at us?  God, I'd like to give him a knuckle sandwich!"

"Never mind, Red.  Let's just get on with it.  We have a job to do."

They took the elevator to the top floor, where the hotel's most luxurious suites were located.

As they paused outside the door of Suite 1402, the man called Red sighed.  "Non sibi sed patriae. I didn't go to the Academy to wind up doing shit like this."

"Of course not!  But, as the admiral said, there's more than one way to serve your country.  And we didn't exactly have a choice, did we?"

"Nope!  We sure as hell didn't."

"Then remember the motto and let's get on with it."

*          *          *

It had all started a couple of months earlier on a typical early September afternoon in the nation's capital.  Which meant it was hot and muggy.  Lt. Cdr. Don Winslow couldn't wait to get back to the apartment he shared with his colleague, Lt. Red Pennington.  ("Red" wasn't Pennington's real first name, but that's what everyone called him.  Except, of course, for Admiral Colby, their commanding officer in U. S. Naval Intelligence, who went by the book at all times.)  Winslow wanted to get out of his whites and into comfortable civvies.  Red had had some sort of errand to run, so the two were to meet at their apartment, change clothes and go somewhere for supper. The Scorpion's organization had been unusually quiet, so the two had been told they could take a normal weekend off.

His fiancée, Mercedes Colby, was on Long Island with some college friends for a couple of weeks, so he and Pennington were on their own.  They'd thought they might loaf around the place in the morning and then take in the Senators' game that afternoon.  He was thinking about Mercedes, his beautiful long-legged brunette as he walked to the parking lot where he'd left his nondescript Plymouth.  This was, after all, the nation's capital, and he didn't need to worry about security there on the sidewalk within a block of the building which housed the Intelligence division.

A long, black car pulled silently to the curb beside him.  Two very big men jumped out.  Before he had time to react, one of them put him into a full nelson while the other pressed a cloth to his face.  He recognized the smell of chloroform just before everything went black.

*          *          *

Several blocks away, Pennington had just left the branch post office where he had mailed a package to his mother in Iowa and purchased some stamps.  He turned and started toward the nearest corner where he could catch one of Washington's electric buses back to the apartment.  

As he strode along the sidewalk, a black Daimler quietly glided to the curb.  As was the case with his friend and fellow officer, Pennington was subdued, rendered unconscious, and abducted.  

*          *          *

Winslow came slowly back to consciousness.  The first thing he was aware of was a splitting headache.  After opening his eyes, he rapidly shut them again because of the nearly blinding light of the room where he was, he discovered, lying on something like a wrestling mat.  He was naked.  Really naked:  they'd even taken his dog tags.  Instinct as well as his training told him to lie still until he could learn more about his situation.  To clear his lungs and his throbbing head, he took a couple of deep breaths.  

That's when he heard a familiar – and hated – voice.  "Welcome back, Lieutenant Commander.  I think you've had enough beauty sleep, don't you?"

Winslow recognized the voice, which combined an upper-crust English accent with slight traces of German.  He looked up to see . . .


"Surprised?" the tall blond asked, mockingly.  "You thought I'd perished in that volcano in the Dutch East Indies, didn't you?  Sorry to disappoint you."

Winslow's reply was little more than a grunt.  His mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton.  

"Get up on your knees.  You may as well do as you're told.  If you'll look around, you'll see that my men are armed.  And then there is the dog."

Winslow slowly pushed himself up to his knees.  Erich was right.  There were four armed men, all dressed as was their leader in white tee shirts, white shorts, white socks, and white tennis shoes.  Three of the men had pistols.  The fourth held the leash of a particularly vicious looking Rottweiler.

"Vadim, handcuff our guest, hands behind his back, if you please."

As the minion followed Erich's orders, Winslow became aware that the skin just above the crack of his ass was tender, almost as if it had been sunburned.

He'd been trained to survive to fight another day, not to perform futile deeds of bravado.  Still he didn't like being in this submissive position, especially unclothed, before one of the Scorpion's top agents, a man with whom he'd tangled several times since he'd graduated from the Academy and been assigned to Intelligence.

"You've gone too far this time, you Kraut bastard," he said.  "I'll be missed.  Lieutenant Pennington is expecting me.  When I don't show up he'll notify headquarters."

Erich's face bore a superior expression Winslow had seen before and wasn't particularly pleased to see again.  "Think again, Winslow.  We have your young associate in another room.  You two will be reunited soon.  And it will be a reunion you'll never forget."

"If we don't show up by 900 hours on Monday, they'll come looking for us, you know."

"Oh, Admiral Colby will have his two Wunderkinder back by then."

Winslow was puzzling about the import of that statement when Erich continued.  

"Pay attention, bitte.  I can imagine that your head is still a bit cobwebby, but that will go away soon.  Since you're probably wondering what we have in store for you, I shall explain.  If."  He stopped, cleared his throat and said with greater emphasis "If you do as you're told, if you cooperate, you'll be back at work physically unharmed, as will your young colleague."

"And if I don't?"

"Ah, in that case, you will be forced to watch as we castrate Lieutenant Pennington without benefit of anesthetic.  And then, when he's regained consciousness, he can watch as we perform the same procedure on you."


"Not very imaginative, Commander.  Let me also assure you that we are not going to ask you to reveal any intelligence or industrial secrets.  I think we may already know everything of value that you know.  Still, you have been a thorn in our flesh, or, to use a metaphor our English cousins prefer, you've thrown one spanner too many into the works."

Winslow was puzzled.  He knew Erich to be vicious and deadly.  He couldn't imagine what the Cambridge-educated German had in mind, but he was sure he wouldn't like it.

Erich's chuckling brought back the kneeling, naked American's attention.  "Our purposes will eventually become clear.  Let us simply say now that you and the often impetuous young redhead will be, from our point of view, neutralized."  He held up his hands and smiled.  "Oh, not physically, unless you misbehave badly, but rendered impotent in the fascinating game we all play.

"Now, be so good as to put your face on the mat.  Vadim has a task to perform."

When Winslow hesitated, the man standing behind him, Vadim, presumably, used his foot to topple the captive's body forward so that he was in the position Erich wanted.

He was raging inwardly, humiliated at being there with his naked ass sticking up, exposed to his mortal enemy, angry with himself that he'd let down his guard long enough to be captured.  His mind was once more brought to the present when he felt a sharp sting in his right buttock.  He wished he could rub the spot, but could not because of the handcuffs.

"If it's any salve to your ego, you may kneel up," Erich said.  

Vadim was just putting a hypodermic syringe in an enameled metal pan on a table at the side of the room.  Winslow now knew what had caused the brief pain in his butt.  The problem was, with what had he been injected?

"Why don't we allow the Commander to rest his knees?" Erich said in a falsely solicitous tone.  He used a sneaker-shod foot to push Winslow over onto his side.  He and his entourage, except for the man with the dog, left the room and dimmed the lights.

Winslow lay on his side, knees drawn up slightly, hands still cuffed behind him.  He could hear nothing except the panting of the dog in the shadows at the edge of the room.  Wonder what they're doing to Pennington?  If they hurt him, I'll . . .  What will you do?  You're not in a position to do anything.  Of course you could get up, but how could you attack the guard and the dog, naked as you are, in handcuffs?  

His skin crawled to think of the dog attacking his exposed genitals.

As he lay there, however, he felt himself relaxing.  A warmth suffused his body, and with it came a ridiculous sense of well being.  It must be the drugs, whatever they shot into my butt, he thought.  Then, Oh shit!   He felt his cock growing hard.  What did they put in me to cause that? Damn!  I hope that goes down before they get back.  Or what if Pennington would see me this way?  

After twenty or thirty minutes, Erich and entourage returned.  By that point, the drugs had so affected the commander that he was trying hard to suppress giggles.  One part of his brain was telling him this was outrageous, humiliating, and dangerous.  The other part was saying "What the hell?"  He was enough in charge of his faculties to realize that the giddiness he was feeling must be fought if he was to endure this ordeal, save himself and his younger friend, and return to duty to combat world evil, most especially that personified by Erich and his fiendish boss, The Scorpion.

"Ah, Commander, I hope you enjoyed your rest.  Up on your knees again, please."

When Winslow had done so, Erich positioned himself about four feet away.  The lights were turned up again, and Erich, standing directly under one of them, looked impressive with his crew-cut blond hair shining, his blue eyes showing how much he was enjoying the situation.  He spread his legs apart slightly and looked down at the kneeling Winslow.

"Our program this weekend involves, as I've said, retraining.  But what is about to happen has nothing to do with that.  Well," he said, reconsidering, "not so much."  He took a step forward.  "You are going to suck my cock.  Why?  Because I want it!"

"Never!" Winslow said in a growl.

Erich snapped his fingers at Vadim, who came forward with a length of fine copper wire.  He knelt in front of Winslow.  There was a loop with a slip-knot in the wire, which he fastened around Winslow's ball sac.  He gave the other end to his superior and withdrew to the side.

"Now, my dear enemy, I literally have your manhood at my disposal.  I see that your prick is still standing to attention.  It might collapse suddenly if I were to pull on this wire.  In fact, your balls might be cut off if I were to pull on it with too much force.  Now we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

Embarrassed, infuriated, Winslow was about to make a defiant comment.  A slight tug on the wire changed his mind.  And, as Erich had said, his prick was still happy.

"So," Erich said, unbuttoning the fly of his gleaming white shorts, "let's get on with it, shall we?  No biting, if you value your testicles!  I must tell you, I shall enjoy this immensely.  " He stepped forward, his own prick now jutting proudly forth, and rubbed the tip on the naval officer's lips.  

Winslow, fearing for his balls, reluctantly opened his mouth.  Instantly it was full of hard, hot German cock.

"I'm sure you know what to do next," Erich said.

Oh, what the fuck! an inner voice said, and just afterward  Lt. Commander Donald Winslow, U. S. Navy, became a cocksucker, a fact which Erich wasted no time in pointing out.

"So!  Lieutenant Commander, we seem to have arrived at our appropriate stations in life."  He was silent for two or three minutes.  Then:  "You do that very well, you know.  Perhaps you have had practice?"

Winslow pulled off, looked up at the man he despised, and said, "Never in hell!  But a guy knows what feels good."

"Whatever rationalization you need to make this palatable."  Then he chuckled.  "It is palatable, apparently."

Fortunately from Winslow's point of view, the German didn't last very long.  

"I am about to ejaculate in your mouth, Winslow.  I want you to hold it all.  Don't swallow until given permission."  To reinforce his command, he gave a warning tug on the copper wire.

Just then there was a flash and Winslow realized that he'd been photographed sucking Erich's cock.  He jerked and almost bit down.  Another warning pull on the wire.

"Be very careful Lieutenant Commander!" Erich said through clenched teeth.  Then he stiffened and pumped his load into Winslow's mouth. The subordinates around the edges of the room applauded.  Except for the one holding the dog's leash.  The dog panted but was otherwise  immobile.

"Now, open your mouth wide and say `Ahh!' as the physicians like to say."

Jesus!  I'm a cocksucker.  Worse, I've got the bastard's semen in my mouth.  And they're going to take another picture.  Still, the point is to survive, not to do anything foolish.  And, hey, this stuff doesn't taste anything like it smells.  Not bad, actually.  Then he was horrified about what he had just admitted to himself.

A nameless henchman in white tee and shorts took a picture of Winslow with his open mouth dripping Erich's white ejaculate.

Then he was face-fucked by the other four men in the room.  Vadim held the dog while the last man had his turn.  And, by Erich's command, each of the men pulled his penis from Winslow's mouth and deposited his load in the kneeling naval officer's face or in his hair.  Which, of course, was photographed by one of the men with the latest model Zeiss.  Or perhaps a model not yet on the market in North America.

"You have no idea how much I am enjoying this, Winslow," Erich said.

Winslow thought how he'd feel if the tables were turned and almost smiled at his arch rival.

"It's well past the dinner hour.  Vadim will bring you something nourishing – and not at all unpleasant..  Afterward, you'll be put to sleep."  Seeing the look in Winslow's face, he quickly added, "Only until tomorrow.  We have much to do, and I promised you wouldn't be harmed if you cooperated."

With that he and the others left, except, of course for one man who stayed with the dog.

Soon Vadim was back.  In his heavy Slavic accent, he said, "This is like one of your milkshakes, except that it has been fortified with additional substances that the body needs."

The metal container did look like the sort of thing one got a shake in at a soda fountain.  Except that it contained a glass straw with a bend in it.

Winslow considered refusing, but he remembered that his duty was to survive to fight another day.  He hungrily sucked down the drink – which was delicious – as Vadim held it for him

When he'd finished, the Slav put cuffs on each of Winslow's ankles.  Then he attached a chain to a D-ring on each cuff and tethered his legs to iron rings in the floor at the edge of the mat.

"Now, we'll refasten your hands in front of your body so you can lie comfortably on your back."

Having done that, he left, followed by the dog and its tender.

Winslow found himself in a totally blackened room.  He wished he'd said something to Erich or Vadim about his need to urinate, but he figured he could hold it until morning.  He'd learned to endure worse hardships than that.

As he lay there thinking over the events of the afternoon and evening, he realized that his erection had finally subsided and that the near euphoria he'd felt had gone away as well.  His rage returned.  He'd given head to five men, including the bastard Erich, he'd been made to swallow come, and he'd had his face covered with it.  And they'd taken pictures of him in the act. If he ever got out of this, he'd kill the son of a bitch!

It took several hours, the best he could tell, before he finally fell asleep.

He was awakened by Vadim, who gave him another milkshake.  It wasn't the hearty breakfast Winslow would have preferred, but it didn't taste bad and it satisfied his appetite.  Then he was taken by Vadim and two others, one with a pistol, the other with the Rottweiler, or a Rottweiler at any rate, to a bathroom where he was made to urinate and defecate as the others watched.  He didn't mind that so much, having grown used to performing such functions alongside other men, especially when he and Pennington were in the jungle that time.  They'd done it side by side, along with a half dozen natives.  Besides, he was grateful Erich's henchmen hadn't allowed him to soil himself.

Then they took him to shower.  His ankles were shackled, so he had to hobble along, but he was able to wash himself without difficulty.  Vadim made him get his middle finger soapy and stick it up his butt.  Winslow didn't even want to think about what that meant.

After the bath he was taken back to the room where the previous evening's indignities had taken place.  This time the handcuffs were removed, much to his relief.  But they were replaced by wrist cuffs which were fastened to chains hanging from the ceiling.  The shackles were taken off his ankles to be replaced by cuffs.  His feet were spread about three feet apart and the cuffs were linked to eyebolts in the floor.  The result was that Winslow was spread-eagled in the middle of the brightly-lit room.  

Vadim gave him another shot in the butt and left.  Again, after a few minutes his member began to swell, and he felt the familiar warm glow spread over his body.  

Wonder what the bastard's got in mind for today.  Maybe it won't be so bad.  You can get through this.  But what about Red?   What are they doing to him?  Maybe they don't really have him.  Maybe they just said that to get me to cooperate.

"Good morning, Korvettenkapitan," Erich said, striding into the room followed by his accomplices. "I trust you are well rested and adequately fed."  

Winslow merely glared at his captor.

"Nothing to say?  Macht's Nichts.  I have something to show you."  He reached into the pocket of his spotless white shorts and withdrew a set of US Navy dog tags.  He held them up so that Winslow could read the name.  They were Pennington's.  Of course, it would have been easy to make up a set, but Winslow recognized a dent in one of the tags, so he knew they belonged to his young colleague and friend.

"Now, let's not have any heroics, shall we?  You will do as you're told.  As I promised yesterday, you will not be harmed during this, mm, training if you cooperate.  The young Leutnant with the flaming hair is being a model prisoner."  Erich smirked and a couple of his henchmen chuckled.  

"So you say!  But why should I believe you?  And what in Hades is your flunky shooting into my butt?"

"Ach!  There's the spirit I expected of my worthy enemy.  You may as well trust me, as you have no choice.  But I do keep my promises.  This weekend is revenge I promised myself I'd have.  But I said you wouldn't be damaged physically if you cooperated, and whether you believe it or not, I shall keep my word.  As for the chemicals . . . ."  He raised an eyebrow and smiled.  "You must understand that The Scorpion has contacts in my Fatherland.  And the Fatherland has the best pharmaceutical research in the world, nicht wahr?  You wouldn't recognize the names of the drugs if I told you.  But they seem to have the desired effect."  He pointedly looked at Winslow's erect tool.  "Your little sailor is standing to attention.  And you should be feeling relaxed, perhaps even mellow by now.  Which will make your instruction more pleasant."

Winslow felt a flush of embarrassment sweep over his body, but his cock also twitched.  He said nothing.  But he wouldn't hang his head.  He looked at Erich defiantly.

Erich spread his legs and clasped his hands behind his back in the familiar military "at ease" position.

"Tell me Donald.  You don't mind my calling you Donald, do you?  After all, we're hardly strangers.  But then of course Donald is the name of the famous duck, isn't it?  How about Don?  Wouldn't that be more gemutlich?"

"You think it matters?  I . . . will . . . get you for this!"

"Ach, I'm wounded!  And things were going so well.  Never mind.  Let's get on with things."  He paused, looked around at his cohorts, and asked, "Tell me, Lieutenant Commander, have you ever had sex with another male?"

Winslow was shocked.  "Of course not.  I'm not that way?"

"Not even when you were entering puberty?  No wanking off with a chum?"


Erich seemed to be thinking for a moment.  Then he smiled.  "How about at the Naval Academy?  You must have seen hundreds of naked men there.  No surreptitious liaisons?"

"No!  That would have been grounds for expulsion and a dishonorable discharge."

"Only if you were caught.  I know how devious and clever you can be.  Surely there must have been times when you saw a handsome shipmate, a fellow whose skin and muscles you longed to touch."

"You don't listen, Erich.  I thought you were smarter than that.  I've told you, I'm not a homo!"

"So you say, Donald."  

Winslow thought one of the men in the shadows made a sound like a duck's quack and then covered it up by coughing.

"What if I were to tell you," Erich continued, "that before this day is over you would be taking a cock up your nether hole?"

"No!  You can't!  I mean, even you wouldn't . . ."  Winslow tugged on his arms and legs, but the chains held him fast.

"Oh, but I would.  Or someone will.  Not only that, but you will beg us to be fucked."

Winslow snorted.  "Under the circumstances, you cocky son of a bitch, there's not much I can do to keep you from raping me.  But ask you for it?  Not in a million years!"

Erich smirked.  Winslow had come to hate that smirk, wanting nothing more than to shove the man's teeth down his throat.

Turning to his side, Erich spoke.  "Hiro, I think it's time to put our guest's assertions to the test.  You may do whatever you wish with him."

At that, one of the men in the shadows at the edge of the room quickly removed his clothing. Naked and strikingly beautiful, a young Japanese man walked proudly and confidently to face the captive.  He, too, was erect.

"Look at him, Winslow. Is he not beautiful?"

Winslow didn't respond, though he stared warily at the young man called Hiro who stood three or four inches shorter than the American, perhaps 5'9".  He had short black hair, dark eyes, and flawless skin.  He had the body of a gymnast.  It was nearly hairless, except for his arm pits and his pubic area.  He smiled ingratiatingly.

"You, too, are very handsome.  Let us enjoy each other's bodies."

Winslow tried to pull back, but he couldn't.  He tensed when Hiro stepped closer and hugged him, resting his head on the taller man's shoulder.  

"You have a wonderful chest."  He ran his hands up and down Winslow's back, feeling his shoulders, his ribs, his hips, and his buttocks.  Sliding a hand around Winslow's ass, allowing his fingers to trail up and down the crack, he said, "You also have very nice . . . shoulders."  Then he chuckled.

Winslow, furious because of the hands on his body and the cock that was dueling with his, said, "Get away from me, you homo creep!"

"Oh, sailor boy, don't be that way.  I gonna make you feel very, very good."  

When the Asian licked his ear, Winslow jumped.  That was one of his erotic places, and Mercedes knew it, teasing him from time to time.  She was a "proper girl" and never let him get beyond some heavy petting, saying they'd have to wait for the rest until they were married.  All of that meant that Winslow hadn't gotten any for the two year's they'd been engaged.  

He couldn't stand to look at Erich while he was being molested by Hiro, so he closed his eyes. And then opened them wide when Hiro began alternately licking his ear and blowing in it.  That was just . . . disgusting!  Evil!  So why did it feel so good?  He steeled himself.  

But, undaunted, Hiro worked slowly.  Continuing to lick, he moved down the side of Winslow's neck until he hit another spot that made the captive twitch.

"Remember, Winslow," Erich said, "Hiro is very much a male.  So, of course, you are finding his advances repellant.  You are finding them repellant, aren't you?"  

Trying not to shiver or otherwise react, Winslow didn't say anything.  After what seemed forever, Hiro then sucked up a hicky on Winslow's shoulder.  Despite himself, waves of electric tingling passed over the officer's body.

It must be the drugs.  Yeah, that's it!  They've got me doped up on something that's making this feel so good.  I should be throwing up, but the drugs have screwed with my head.  Or my body.  Or something.  Oh, shit, that feels so . . . sexy!

"Relax, Donny.  You're so tense!  I just want to make you feel good."

He does have a nice smile.  Oh, what the fuck am I thinking?

"Get away from me you boy whore!"

"Shame on you, Lieutenant Commander!  Hiro is one of my best aides.  In fact he's vital to our organization."

"I can imagine what kind of services he provides."

"Don't be petulant," Hiro said, still smiling.  Then he dropped to his knees, lifted Winslow's balls and cock out of the way, and began licking the inside of his right thigh.

Godallmighty! His eyes closed, he tilted his head back, and shuddered, stifling a groan.

"You seem to be enjoying this," Erich said.

There'd been an instructor back at the academy who used exactly that tone of voice.  He'd hated him, too.

"Why not submit?  After all, you have already become proficient giving head.  Like it or not, you are now that word you despise, a cocksucker.  Why not admit your true nature?  You are responding to Hiro's, shall we say, blandishments, aren't you?  Why not simply admit it so we can get on with our agenda?"

"Fuck your agenda!"

"Language, Lieutenant Commander!  Not said like an officer and a gentleman."

Winslow was about to respond when Hiro, still licking his thigh, put a hand on his ass and began stroking up and down the crack again.  He looked down to see the handsome Asian smiling up at him. Smiling!  He was obviously enjoying himself.  What Winslow couldn't figure out was whether Hiro was a sadist or whether he really liked playing with other men's bodies.  Whichever it was, his cock was about to explode.  The drugs had made it erect, but he feared it was Hiro's attentions that had made it diamond hard.  Feared?  What was so bad about it?  He was a bound prisoner.  He was supposed to survive.  He had never gone around thinking about having sex with men.  But right now?  Right now he was afraid he'd explode.

"Delicious!" Hiro said, licking his lips.  Then he stood.

What next?

The handsome Japanese put his hands behind Winslow's head and brought his face close to that of the captive.  Then he swiped his tongue across Winslow's lips.  It happened so quickly Winslow didn't have time to react.  

The next thing he knew was that, bending slightly, Hiro was sucking on one of his nipples!  

Oh, god!  Who knew that could feel so good?  He'd sucked and licked women's tits, back in the days before he and the admiral's daughter had become engaged.  But men's nippHHe'd
les?  Admittedly guys didn't talk about things like that.  At least not the guys he knew.  But wouldn't he have heard?  It felt as if there was a direct connection between the nub Hiro was sucking and his balls.  And throbbing cock.

"Oh!"  He couldn't help the exclamation.  It just felt so good!

"So, Winslow," Erich said, his mocking smile in place, "are you ready to ask to be used as a woman?"


"You won't be allowed any relief from the pressures you're feeling until you admit that you want to be fucked."

"Screw you, Erich!"

"I think not.  Still, we've all been standing here quite long enough.  Let us take a break as you Americans say.  Vadim, let him down, bitte."

Everyone left except for Vadim and the man with the dog.  And, of course, the dog.

Vadim released his hands from the chains that were holding them above his head and allowed him to rub his tired shoulders.  Then he connected the wrist cuffs in front of Winslow's body.  After releasing one of the ankle chains, allowing Winslow to sit, Vadim, the dog, and the dog's handler departed, leaving Winslow alone in the room.

The naval officer's first sensation was of relief.  They were gone.  He hadn't broken down.  Hadn't come.  Hadn't begged them to let him come.  

Still . . . .  his need was great.  And they'd left his hands cuffed so that he could reach his throbbing and leaking cock.  Perhaps he could . . . .

A voice came over a loudspeaker he hadn't known was there.  "Oh, by the by, Winslow.  We're watching you.  No fair masturbating.  That would be the same as an admission, wouldn't it?  Rest. We'll be back in a few minutes."

It was Vadim who returned first.  "Do you need to urinate?" he asked in his heavy Russian accent.

"No, but I could use a drink of water.  Please," he added as an afterthought.  

Vadim left and returned with a large metal container of water, which he handed to Winslow.  "Don't try anything foolish."  He grinned.  "It's not much of a weapon."

Winslow nodded and took the container, which he drained.  "Thanks."

"Civility?  How refreshing," Vadim said, taking the empty metal "glass" from his captive.

Left alone, Winslow rolled over onto his side, using all his will power to keep his hands off his importunate penis.  

After about a half an hour, Erich returned with his retinue.  Winslow was once more hoisted into the X position.  And Hiro recommenced his activities.  

First he repeated everything he'd done in the morning.  It was even more difficult for Winslow not to groan with arousal and pleasure this time.  When he would get almost to the breaking point, Hiro would back off, at Erich's command.  Through his fog of lust, the naval officer dimly realized that they were bringing him to the verge of ejaculation and then stopping.  This went on all afternoon.  He'd lost track of time, but it had to be nearing the dinner hour.  He hadn't had anything since the "shake" they'd given him for breakfast, and his hunger was no longer merely sexual.

Finally, Erich said, "Hiro, you must be fatigued.  And our guest is surprisingly, mm, firm in his resistance.  Perhaps we should all have some supper.  Vadim, will you see to the Lieutenant Commander?"

Vadim nodded.  The rest left, including the man with the Rottweiler.

"Do you need to urinate?"

"Yes, please."

"I think you are not a bad man, despite what I have heard about you.  The Scorpion's people have said that you are brave and resourceful, but they have suggested that you are evil."

"It's the Scorpion who's evil, Vadim."

"You do not understand," Vadim said.  He went to a cupboard at one side of the room and retrieved a large, open-mouth bottle.  He held it to Winslow's cock and said, "You may relieve yourself."

His penis still pointing toward the ceiling, Winslow couldn't.  Vadim, recognizing the situation, sharply struck the exposed head of the cock with his fingernails.  The sharp pain caused Winslow to flinch, but it also caused a detumescence which then allowed him to relieve himself.

"A moment."  Vadim left with the bottle.  He returned a few minutes later with another "shake." This one was chocolate flavored.  Winslow almost enjoyed it.  

Vadim opened the door of the room and pulled in what appeared to be a vaulting horse, though it was not quite so high.  After bringing it to the middle of the room, he took Winslow down from his X position and told him to bend over the padded "horse."  Using the wrist cuffs, he fastened his captive so that his arms were attached to the legs of the horse and his legs, spread apart, were tethered to the eyebolts in the floor.

Winslow was bent over with his most intimate, most private part exposed to anyone who came into the room.  He jumped when Vadim gave him another shot in the butt.  

His cock had become hard again, the warm, fuzzy glow had returned, when Erich and Hiro reappeared. The armed men, the dog, and his keeper were not there this time.

"Where are your goons, Erich?" Winslow asked.

"We hardly need them, do we?  You obviously are no threat, and you're not going anywhere.  Und they are needed to prepare your boyish colleague."  He turned to the young Japanese man.  "Hiro, please continue."

Because of his position, Winslow couldn't see the Asian's face, but he heard him say, "I think he will be ready soon."

"Let us hope so.  This is becoming tiresome."

Winslow felt soft hands rubbing his back, up and down either side of his spine, across his shoulders, down his ribs to his hips, and then around and around on his butt.  It felt so good. So relaxing.  Too relaxing.  He knew what would eventually happen.  

Still, he jumped and moaned when he felt Hiro's fingers rubbing up and down his crack, around his butt hole.  This went on for what seemed a long time, causing Winslow to experience wave after wave of tingling pleasure.  

Except to move it out of the way once, Hiro had never touched Winslow's prick. But it was once more hard.  Of course, he realized, it was partly due to whatever drug they'd been pumping into him.  Still, he was mortified to realize that he liked what the Japanese guy was doing to him.  It would be so easy just to relax, to let them do what they wanted.

For a moment the hands left his backside.  Hiro moved.  Then the hands grabbed his cheeks and spread them apart.  And then . . . .

"Oh, Jesus!"  The guy must have been licking his anus.  It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced or imagined.  It got even better when he felt the tongue probing his hole.  His cock, not just hard but throbbing and leaking, bounced repeatedly.  And his balls ached.

I don't know whether I can hold out or not.  I've gotta come!

On and on the tongue teased his hole, which had relaxed, inviting it inside.  He was shocked to realize that he was wiggling his butt.  But it felt so good!

When Hiro sat back on his heels, Winslow groaned with a sense of loss.

"Are you ready, Winslow?  Surely by now you realize that you need a male organ in your hole, just like a common whore."

"Up yours, asshole!" the captive said, bravely.  Then he considered his plight.  "Erich, please. Just let me come."

The German chuckled.  "Of course, of course.  You simply have to ask to be fucked.  After that, we'll let you have the relief you need."

"No!  Not that.  Just let me get off, please!"

"Begging are we, Lieutenant Commander?  It's too bad we don't have a motion picture camera here at the moment."

"Okay, bastard, let your Jap queer do his worst."

"Brave words," Hiro said.

"I think it's time for the Vaseline," Erich said.

"Yes, sir," Hiro hissed.

Winslow jumped when he felt something cold against his nether hole.  Soon a finger had wiggled its way into his body.  After the initial shock, it didn't feel so bad.  As it continued to wiggle and stroke, it felt better.  Suddenly, it touched something that caused Winslow's body to lurch.  A feeling akin to a mild electric shock emanated from that finger throughout his body.

"Ohh, God!"

"I think our brave hero likes what you're doing, Hiro," Erich chuckled.

"Yes," Hiro giggled.  "Look on the floor."

Winslow couldn't see what he was talking about, but he was promptly informed.

"You are leaking pre-ejaculate, Lieutenant Commander Winslow.  What do you have to say?"

"Please let me come."  He hated himself for begging, but he thought his balls would burst if he didn't get relief.  He hated Erich.  He hated Hiro.  But he didn't think he could last much longer if that finger kept doing what it was doing.  He'd heard guys talk about cornholing, but he'd never thought much about it.  Why would anyone do that?  It seemed dirty and disgusting for the doer, and what was the reward for the recipient?  Now he knew.  It was the best thing he'd ever felt except for, perhaps, coming.

Hiro ran his knuckles lightly over the back of Winslow's dangling ballsac.  Then he began working the tip of his finger in and out over that magical spot.

Soon the U. S. Naval Intelligence "star" was moaning with pleasure.

"Please, please," he heard someone say.  Then he was shocked to realize it was him.  The stroking continued and, despite the pleasure, he became more and more needy.  

"Winslow, listen to me."


"For the last five minutes, Hiro hasn't been moving his finger.  You're fucking yourself on it!"

Blazes!  He realized that he was indeed rocking back and forth, providing the movement needed to get his prostate massaged.  What a slut he'd become!

"Okay," he said, feeling that for the first time, he'd been defeated by Erich.  There'd been occasional setbacks before, but he'd always been sure that he'd catch Erich eventually, that he and Red Pennington and their associates in Naval Intelligence, would bring down The Scorpion.

But now, at that moment, he couldn't fight.  If it had been pain he might have withstood it.  But this?  Nothing in his training or experience had prepared him for anything like this!

"Okay, what, Winslow?  I don't know what you mean."

"Just do it.  I've gotta come!"

"Do what?"

"Fuck me, dammit.  Just fuck me!"

Erich said quietly, "Keep him just that way, on edge.  I'll tell the others."  Winslow heard the door open and close.  Erich had stepped out of the room.

Meanwhile, Hiro ran one hand up and down the captive's back while he stroked his prostate with the other.  

"Oh,damn, that feels so good."

"You will enjoy being fucked, Lieutenant Commander," Hiro said.  "It's a pity that you've waited so long to discover the kind of pleasure one man can give to another."

"It's unnatural, it's just wrong!"  He hated himself for feeling the way he did, but he couldn't help it.  He'd never experienced anything like this, never been so hot and sexually tense and on the verge of exploding.  His experiences with women had never been anything like this.  He wondered how long it would take before Erich would be back, how long he'd remain in this deliriously excited state.  And he thought of his friend and associate.  How humiliating it would be to be seen by Pennington in this state.  They could never work together again.

The door opened and he heard the squeak of rubber soles on the tile flooring.

"Go ahead, Leutnant, you know what to do."

Hiro withdrew his finger.  Winslow could sense that he had pulled away and stood up.  He craned his neck, looking over his shoulder.  There, to his shock and dismay, was his friend, naked, kneeling behind him, blushing as only redheads can.

"Please don't make me do this!  He's not only my superior officer, he's my best friend!"

Winslow was touched to hear the declaration, but he had little time to consider it, since Erich replied, "Touching, but irrelevant.  You know what you must do.  Besides, you know you really want to."

A finger coated with the Vaseline touched his anus.  No, it had to be two fingers.  They slithered in and began to wiggle around, not stroking his prostate, but rather apparently coating the walls of his large intestine.  He groaned, whether with pleasure or humiliation, he couldn't say. Perhaps both.  Then the fingers withdrew, and he groaned again, feeling empty, needful.  Soon, however, they were back, this time feeling even bigger.  A third finger, no doubt.

"Your friend didn't ask to be finger-fucked, Pennington.  It's time to get on with it.  He has told us he's desperate to ejaculate, so every minute you delay is a minute of his torture."

Winslow wanted to argue, but Pennington withdrew his fingers.  Clenching his teeth, he prepared for the moment he'd been dreading – and asking for.  He felt something blunt push against his anus.  It seemed blocked there for a moment, and then it slid in.  The discomfort was minor.  It was simply a feeling of fullness.  And then he realized that he was being fucked by a man.  By his friend and subordinate.  

But the redhead's cock hit his prostate as it began to slide back and forth, in and out, and he forgot about the Navy, about duty, about The Scorpion and Erich.  He could only concentrate on the feelings in his ass.  

"Oh, that's, oh, damn!"

Someone was taking pictures again, but that registered only faintly.  Winslow was lost in bliss. His grunts were echoed by those of the man whose cock was up his ass.  But it was all over before he wanted it to end.  He felt Pennington become rigid.  Then he could feel the cock inside him pulsing, five, six, seven times.  And then the lieutenant collapsed onto his back.

The room rang with derisive laughter and even some applause.

"Done with gusto, gentlemen!  How very interesting to see you both enjoying your, mm, copulation. No need to blush, lieutenant, but you might stand up now.  I've made a promise to your colleague."

It was the drugs.  It must have been the drugs.  But Winslow wasn't thinking of shame or humiliation or guilt:  he thought Good!  He is going to let me get off!

"Vadim, if you please.  You know the plan."  Then standing where he could see the faces of his two captives, he continued.  "Turn about is fair play.  That is an expression of yours, isn't it? Lieutenant Commander Winslow has blue balls, Lieutenant Pennington.  He hasn't been allowed any relief all day.  He's in much the same state you were when we brought you to this room."

Vadim unfastened Winslow's wrists and ankles and helped him stand.  They stood aside while another of the attendants put Pennington into position over the padded horse.

Winslow noted that his friend had a scorpion tattooed just above the crack of his ass.  So that's why I've felt tender there!  I've got one too!  Bastard Erich!  Those things are permanent!  

Though his thoughts were still somewhat muddled due to the drugs with which he'd been repeatedly injected, Winslow recognized a dilemma.

"I can't do this to him.  He's my subordinate and fellow ossi—officer."

"Ethics at a time like this?"  Erich chuckled.  "If it will relieve your conscience consider that you are being forced to take the young man's arse.  If you don't want to do it gently, one might even say lovingly, then we'll make sure you do it to him dry and rough."

Winslow's own needs seconded what the German was saying.

Vadim handed Winslow the jar of Vaseline.  

"You know, I think, what to do," Erich said.

When he scooped up some of the jelly and began working it inside the pink asshole, with its ring of fiery hair, Pennington moaned. And then he surprised Winslow by pushing back against the intruding finger.

It didn't take long before it was apparent to Winslow that Pennington was ready.  He gingerly applied some of the Vaseline to his cock, afraid that he'd come before he even got it inside the surprisingly appealing ass in front of him.

He slowly inserted his nail-hard tool.  Pennington's chute seemed to suck it in.  And, fuck the Navy, fuck duty, he was in the proverbial throes of ecstasy, too caught up in it all to care about the flashes from the Zeiss being wielded by one of his captors.

He didn't last long.  Soon he fired salvo after salvo into Pennington.  When he was finished, he slumped over the body beneath him.

"Sorry, Red.  You okay?"

"Yessir," Pennington sighed.

When Winslow stood upright he could feel semen running out his ass and down his leg.  Repressing the urge to giggle (it's the damned drugs), he looked to see what Erich would say next.

"Feed them and clean them up, Vadim," Erich said.  Then he left.  Vadim and three others remained behind.  The rest, including the man with the dog, left with Erich.

The two naval officers were allowed to use the toilet, after which they were showered and given enemas, much to their embarrassment.  Then they were fed another of the "shakes."  Vadim had them returned to the big, brightly-lit room where they'd been before.  Each was given a shot and they were allowed to rest on the big mat in the center of the room.

"Erich says no talking!" Vadim admonished them.  They did manage, however, to exchange reassuring glances.  Winslow found himself thinking how handsome his young friend was.  And then he flushed. It's gotta be the drugs.

After a while Erich and his white-clad goons, all dressed as gymnasts or tennis instructors, returned.  "Ah.  You've been cleaned up and fed.  I'm sure our supper was better than yours, but your liquid meal was scientifically balanced to be healthful and satisfying.  So, now we shall all have some pleasure, nein?"

Having had sexual release and food, the two captives felt pleasantly drowsy, wanting nothing better than to take a nap.  

"Now, it's time for you to repay Vadim, who has taken good care of you."  At a nod from Erich, Vadim quickly stripped off his clothing, except for his white socks and tennis shoes.

"Korvettenkapitan, you will thank Vadim by giving him what you call a blow job.  And, Leutnant, Vadim has a special fondness for something you've learned to do well.  You'll use your tongue on his arse hole, you understand?"

Pennington nodded.  

Of course as Vadim stood there, legs spread, while being simultaneously rimmed and sucked off by the kneeling, naked Americans, the photographer was busy, being sure to take close ups that would reveal their faces, but not that of Vadim.

When a happy Vadim had with much shouting in what sounded to Winslow like Russian shot his load into Winslow's mouth, he took a moment to collect himself, and then stepped away.

"Open your mouth, Commander."

When Winslow did so, he was photographed.

"Now, share Vadim's gift with your friend."


"Open your mouth, redhead!"

"Now, kiss each other and share Vadim's fluid."

Well, Winslow thought, it can't get any worse.

The fact that he enjoyed kissing the man he'd just been fucking must have been because of the drugs.

But things did get worse.  

Next they were required to do for Hiro what they'd just done for Vadim.  And then they spent three more hours sucking off and/or being fucked by the rest of the men in Erich's crew.  Only Erich himself stayed out of the activities.  At one point he even held the dog so its owner could participate in the party.

When all were sated, the two captives, reeking with seminal fluid, tasting it, and feeling it seep from their anuses, were tethered to the eyebolts in the floor.

At least, he thought, we can talk now.

But that was not to happen.  Before he left Vadim gave them each another shot in the butt, and they were asleep almost instantly.

They were awakened by Vadim quite early the next morning.  They reeked and had unpleasant tastes lingering in their mouths, so they were allowed to shower, rinse their mouths, and have another shake.  Then they were given another of Vadim's special shots in the ass.

When he brought them their uniforms, shoes, and socks, they were surprised, though neither was about to complain.

It turned out, however, that Erich had something in mind.  Vadim instructed them to put on their clothes (without underwear, which hadn't been returned to them).  No sooner were they dressed than Erich came back with his guards, who were once again armed.  The dog and its handler were there as well.

I suppose he thinks that we're more likely to try to escape now that we have our clothes on.

"This morning we shall take some more pictures, and then you'll be returned to the city."

Winslow knew those pictures would be trouble, but at that moment he was too caught up in his recollection of the previous day's activities, particularly the intimate ones with his young associate, to worry overmuch about them.

Erich had the two officers face each other.  "Now, kiss as you fondle each other's genitals, bitte."

"Really, Erich, in uniform?  That's too much."

"You shy away from physical contact now, after what you did with each other yesterday?  Besides, just get through this, and we'll be finished."

So, awkwardly, they did as they were told.

"Really, you call that a kiss?  Do it deeply, like lovers.  What is it you call it?  A French kiss?"  He chuckled.  "Appropriate."

Soon the photographer had a couple of profile pictures of the two of them, apparently deeply into kissing and fondling each other.

"Now, turn toward the camera and put your arms on each other's shoulders, like a couple of kamaraden."

When they saw the picture later, they were horrified to see that their erections were very much in evidence, as was a wet spot where each cock had leaked through the white fabric.

"We shall follow this theme a step further.  Unbutton your flies.  Go ahead, do it!"

Winslow wanted desperately to throw the handsome young redhead to the floor, tear off his clothes, and have passionate sex with him.  (The drugs!)

Still, somehow, this intimacy while they wore their uniforms was more shameful than what they'd done naked.

"Gut!  Now, insert your penis into the other man's fly, both of you."

Jesus!  I'm gonna come!

When each had his cock inside the other's fly, rubbing against the other's belly, Erich said, "Now, kiss each other again and perform frottage."

When both men looked at him with puzzled expressions, he snorted.  "Rub your cocks against each other until you ejaculate!"

A voice inside him was screaming that he should not do that.  Then it changed its tune and said he shouldn't be enjoying it.  At least not so much.  Then it subsided.  When Pennington spurted come all over Winslow's lower abdomen, the senior officer responded in kind.  They clung together, panting, heads touching.  Winslow shivered at the thought of having his friend's stuff all over his pubes and cock.

"Very sweet.  Now, put yourselves back together.

When they had tucked in their cocks and re-buttoned their flies, Erich told them to press the fabric of their trousers against their bellies.  Doing so caused the white, sticky stuff to soak through the white fabric.  It glistened in the bright light.

And that's when the photographer took the last of his pictures.

"Very good.  Now, Vadim, if you please."  

The Slav brought a tray with three glasses of an amber liquid.

"Now, gentlemen, a toast.  This is the best American bourbon.  Please raise your glasses."

"Why should we drink with you, you son of a bitch?"

"Because if you don't we'll pour it down your throats.  Come, Winslow, be civil."  He raised his glass.  "Until next time."

Without repeating the toast, Winslow and Pennington swallowed the drink.  It was indeed bourbon.

"We might also have drunk to the end of your careers, but that would have been rubbing it in, so to speak."

Before either could reply, both felt a sting in the back of their necks.

The next thing they knew, they woke up in the brig.  It seems they'd been found, trousers semen-stained, smelling of alcohol, passed out on a park bench.  One of the DC park police had called the Shore Patrol, and they were taken, still unconscious, to the brig.

*          *          *

The next day the two stood, in immaculate whites, at attention before the desk of Admiral Colby.  Spread out on the desk before him were the pictures.

"You know this means the end of your naval careers, don't you?"

"But sir!" Winslow expostulated.

The Admiral ran his hand across his crew-cut silver hair.  "I know, Winslow, you were abducted.  I don't doubt that.  But there is no proof of that."

"What about the tattoos, sir?"

"All we have is your word, Winslow, about where you got those.  We have no independent verification.  So, we're left with these pictures," he said with a grimace, "the tattoos, and your word.  If what you say is true, The Scorpion and Erich have gotten the best of us this time.  You know the policy.  Homosexuality is grounds for an immediate dishonorable discharge."

"But we're not—"

"So you say.  But there are the pictures."

He allowed the reality of the situation to sink in.

"And, you realize, that you're to have nothing to do with my daughter, I hope."

Winslow gritted his teeth.  "Yes, sir."

They were interrupted by the Admiral's aide.  "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Colonel Jackson is on the phone.  Shall I tell him you'll call back?"

"No, he's answering my call."

"At ease, you two."  He picked up the phone.  "What news, Colonel?"  A pause.  "The secretary went for it, huh?  Good.  At least it's better than a court martial.  But it will be up to them, of course.  Will do.  Thanks."  He put down the phone and turned to the men standing before him.

"Be seated, um, gentlemen."

The two junior officers sat, tensely waiting for Colby to continue.

"I've just heard from the Secretary of the Navy by way of a Marine Colonel that you would have no reason to know.  The Secretary is willing to forego the court martial providing you both agree to, shall we say, serve our country in a rather different way.  You'd still be loosely connected with Intelligence."

He paused, but neither Winslow nor Pennington said anything.

"For some years, the State Department has provided for the needs of high-ranking dignitaries visiting Washington.  That includes making some attractive and discrete women available as requested."

Winslow felt a hot flash cover his body.  He could guess what was coming.  A surreptitious glance to his right revealed that Pennington was blushing.

"State has been looking for a way to satisfy the occasional visitor whose needs run to, well, um, men.  So the Secretary is willing to turn a blind eye to these photographs if you are willing to take on this new assignment."

Winslow cleared his throat.  "Sir?"

"Yes, commander?"

"Let me see if I have this right.  You're proposing that Lieutenant Pennington and I become . . . male whores?"

"What's in a name, Lieutenant Commander?  You'd be serving your country.  And if you happened to come across relevant information, you could pass it along to Intelligence."

"But, sir!"

"I've given you your choices.  Do this or face a court martial.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.  And remember the Academy motto!"

*          *          *

As they stood outside the hotel room, Winslow's mind flashed back to the period since that morning when the Admiral had presented them with their choice.

They retained their housing allowance, so they continued to share their apartment.  They'd had a lot of free time.  Each had been sent to a hotel four times to have sex with some foreign dignitary.  Their experiences had varied from the disgusting to the, well, not so disgusting.

During all that time, Winslow had fought the urge to initiate physical contact with his young friend.  Ever since that weekend with Erich, he'd looked at the lean, muscular, fair-skinned body of Pennington with curiosity, but something more.  Desire?  Lust?  He didn't want to admit it, but his physical urges were there.  He admitted that he no longer missed Mercedes Colby.  And after being Erich's captive, he remembered the feelings, the desires of that weekend.  Of course, some of that was the result of the exotic concoction of drugs that were being injected into him.  But there'd been no drugs since they'd been released, and the urges hadn't gone away.

Worse, on those occasional evenings when he was at home and Red was "on assignment," Winslow found himself fighting feelings of jealousy.

Winslow put his hand to his chest.  Since they'd been instructed never to wear their dog tags on these assignments, he wanted to be sure he'd remembered to take his off.  He noticed that Pennington, picking up on his movement, echoed it.

"Remember, we're supposed to act like we're enjoying this."  

Pennington nodded.

Winslow took a deep breath and knocked on the hotel room door.

It was opened by a handsome young Asian man wearing a black silk robe and slippers.

"Ah, come in.  I'm the Minister's aide.  He will be disappointed.  He thought you'd be wearing the uniforms of common sailors, with their bell-bottom trousers."  

He stood back to let them into the luxurious suite.  Seated in a Queen Anne chair was an older man, also Asian, in a more ornate version of the robe worn by the aide.  He gave the arrivals an appraising look.

"You are both handsome.  You look good in the officer uniforms they've given you.  Please be seated."  He gestured toward a sofa.

"It is a real step forward that your State Department has recognized that some of us have different needs.  I'm most pleased."  He turned to his aide.  "Why don't you pour our guests some of that fine bourbon?"

The nameless assistant nodded and soon handed around old fashioned glasses of bourbon on the rocks.  The Minister asked a few questions about the current college football season, the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, and finally the Washington weather as they sipped their whiskey.  He never mentioned politics or international relations.

During all of this Winslow couldn't help wondering whether the Asians (Chinese as they found out) were wearing anything under their robes.

After the drinks were completed, the younger man said, "It is the Minister's request that you undress each other.  Are you lovers?"

Pennington blushed again.  Winslow said, "No, we aren't."

"This evening the Minister would be pleased if you would pretend to be.  So, as you undress, kiss each other and do such fondling as you might find appropriate."

I never thought I'd be serving my country this way, Winslow thought as he stood.  He was a bit startled when Pennington put his arms around him and began to kiss him.  Then, giving his friend credit for reminding him of the roles they'd just been assigned, he tried to imagine Pennington was a beautiful woman.

But he couldn't.  He was all too aware that this was his friend and colleague.  Kissing him was nothing like kissing Mercedes.  For one thing, Pennington was slipping him a lot of tongue.  He'd been kissed like that before, but not by his ex-fiancée.  

The two naval officers kissed and stroked each other as they removed their clothes.  Winslow was embarrassed to find himself with a flaming erection when he stood there naked in front of the two seemingly fascinated Chinese.

"Beautiful, quite beautiful!" the Minister said.  The smile on his face echoed his words.  "The one is so hairy, the other so pale!"

Winslow noticed that the Minister had his hand in the aide's lap. He lifted it to take the aide's hand and place it over his own cock, which was hidden by the folds of his robe.

"Did you bring the item I requested?" the Minister asked.

"Yes, sir," Pennington said.  "It's in the briefcase, along with some Vaseline I took the liberty of including."

"How astute!" the Minister exclaimed, looking delighted.  "Now, please produce the items."

The lieutenant took the jar of Vaseline from the briefcase and set it on a side table.  Then he removed a long, black, double-headed dildo and stood there holding it, looking uncertain and clearly embarrassed.  Yet his sailor was standing at attention, as was that of Winslow.

"I think you understand what to do.  I shall be fascinated to see how you do it."

Winslow and Pennington had been pretty sure what they'd be asked to do with the dildo, but they hadn't thought of practicing with it.  So it was with some awkwardness that they greased it up with the Vaseline,   applied the gel to each other, got to their hands and knees, and more or less backed themselves (slowly) onto the dildo.

"Very interesting," said the Minister.  "Teddy, would you be so good as to put their hats on their heads?"

Winslow was surprised that the aide was called Teddy.  It certainly didn't sound Chinese.

As if reading his mind, the Minister said, "Teddy isn't his name, of course, but that's what his friends at Dartmouth called him."

So, there they were.  Naked, on their hands and knees, wearing their billed uniform caps, "sharing" a dildo.

Teddy chuckled.  "I think you know what to do now.  As we'd say at Dartmouth, `fuck yourselves'."

Now's when we have to pretend to enjoy it, Winslow thought.  He closed his eyes and began to rock. Soon he and Pennington had fallen into a rhythm where they both thrust back at once, causing his prostate to send out happy messages.  His moans were not faked, nor, he was sure, were those of Pennington.  He forgot about the two onlookers in his increasingly intense thrusting.  

"Stop a moment please," Teddy said.

Winslow looked up to see the Minister standing there naked, his erect cock only inches from Winslow's face.  A glance over his shoulder revealed that Teddy had positioned himself in front of Pennington's face.  The naval officers opened their mouths, which were instantly filled with cock. And the motion began again.  

It was Teddy who came first.  He cried out as he ejaculated, and there was a slight hitch in Pennington's thrusting on the dildo as he apparently swallowed Teddy's load.  Then the aide came around and put his arm over the Minister's shoulder as Winslow continued to give the older man head.  As good cocksuckers do, Winslow looked up often to see how his blowjob was being received. At one point Teddy and the Minister were kissing.

Well, he thought, that answers one question.  They'll want to know that back at the office.

When he had received and swallowed the Minister's load, he and Pennington were allowed to remove the dildo.

"Let me show you where you can clean yourselves and your equipment," the younger Chinese man said.  

After they were once more in their uniforms and were about to leave, the Minister said, "You have been most satisfactory.  Your stiffness when you arrived almost persuaded me you were truly naval officers.  But you're much too good at what you do.  I shall tell the Under Secretary that you were excellent.  Good night."  He turned and walked out of the room.

"You guys aren't really Navy officers, are you?" Teddy asked as he walked with them to the door.

"Of course not," Winslow said.  "Our Navy wouldn't think of asking its officers to do anything like that."

"Then tell me about those spiders on your butts.  Where did they come from?"

"It was a thing we did at the, er, in college." Pennington said.


*          *          *

Once they were in their car, Winslow settled carefully back in his seat and sighed, as Pennington started the motor.  "A hell of a way to serve your country!"

"Yeah," the younger man said, apparently concentrating on the traffic.  Then, after they'd driven a few blocks, he said, "Don?"


"When we get back to the apartment, do you think we could . . . ?"

Winslow put his left hand on Pennington's thigh.

"Yeah, Red, I think we could."

The End



As things turned out, Winslow and Pennington's assignment to the State Department was TDY.  After December 7, 1941, the two men were transferred to the Pacific theater of operations, where they both served gallantly throughout World War II.  Although the records are unclear, it is my understanding that they worked for the OSS and later the CIA after the War.

Rumor, quite unsubstantiated, has it that the Scorpion was killed during an Allied air raid.  At least he never surfaced again.  Erich is rumored to have escaped to Brazil just before the War ended, though it is also rumored that he met a particularly unpleasant death there in 1950. 


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Thanks!  Max.