Date: Fri, 10 Feb 2012 08:37:59 +0100
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: Brothers-in-Arms. Part One.

This story is for persons of eighteen years or over.
All comments, good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

Part One

                                                Peter

   It wasn't until I was fourteen years of age did I come to realise how
fragile life is. That was because my father told me that my mother had just
been diagnosed as having cancer. Inoperable, he managed to get out before
he burst into tears. This of course, set me to crying too. Not just for my
mother, but for my father too, for this was the first time I had ever seen
him shed tears, for I knew that he loved her as much, if not more than I
did.

   What I didn't know, was that the very next day he went and took out a
big life insurance policy on himself.

   We both nursed mother between us for the next two years. Dad taking as
much time off work as he could, while I did my bit in between times of my
schooling. That was taking on the chore of the shopping and seeing to our
meals. I rather got to like this preparing of special meals for mum and
dad.

   She died two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, and she was buried a
week later. It was not a happy time for me and put a blight on that
birthday as well as the fact that I also left school at the beginning of
the summer holidays.

   Four weeks later, my father died in a car accident. He'd been driving
home from seeing a client and somehow, his car left the road and finished
up in the river. The police couldn't give any reason for the car to leave
the road and the autopsy showed no signs of alcohol or drugs in his system,
so it was recorded as an accidental death.

   It wasn't until a month later, two weeks after I attended my second
funeral, that I had second thoughts about how my father had died. With
knowing that my mother didn't have that long to live, he didn't want to go
on without her, and so took out this massive life insurance policy to see
that I didn't have any immediate financial worries with him going to join
her.

   I didn't mention this to my counsellor that I had meetings with, even
though I was now classed as an adult, I still had her to see that I coped
with my loss. It was her that took me down to the job centre to sign on as
it were, get my National Insurance Number, and try to advise me as to how
to look after myself now that I was all alone.

   Of the jobs on offer, I opted for the position of assistant cook in a
local hotel, which I knew of and as how I thought I was pretty good at this
cooking lark. Well I learned more than I knew before, but I was still
miserable. Going home to an empty house late in the evenings, not even
bothering to turn on the television, it being that late when I got
there. Nor did I have the time to get out and meet people of the same age
for companionship, so I spent two years wallowing in self pity.

   The pay from the hotel wasn't bad, it was just the hours that were
wrong. What I earned was more than enough for my present life style, for
I'd used some of dad's insurance money to clear the mortgage on the house
and still have quite a bit left over for the rates and taxes.

   After I reached the age of seventeen, I began having driving lessons and
was pleased that after three months, was able to take my test and pass. I
didn't at the time have any intention of buying a car but thought that by
having a licence and being able to drive, may help me later on in life.

   It was my state of loneliness and need for company that made me stop off
one day at an army recruitment office and sign on. A mistake or not, I'll
leave it for you to decide.

   I gave in my notice at the hotel, being told that if I ever wanted to
return, they would accept me back, which boosted up my morale a little and
a week later I joined the army.

                                                         *

      I reported to the training camp at the designated time and even
though I was early, there were a few other men already there, standing in a
group. I was told off to stand with them and when there was ten of us, a
corporal took us to a barrack and told us to find a bed and dump our gear
there and wait for the sergeant.

   I counted forty beds in the hut and wondered where the others were, but
found out that they would be coming in in groups of ten later. I picked a
bed down near the middle of the hut next a nice looking young man.

   `Hi,' he said, `My names Terry Marshall,' as he offered his hand which I
shook.

   `Mine's Peter Sargeant.' At this point, another ten men were ushered in
by the corporal, and within half an hour, we had the hut full. A few
minutes later the corporal shouted out for us to assemble outside and get
into a line. This we duly did and had Terry next me as we stood in a ragged
line as the drill sergeant came and stood in front of us.

   `What a bloody stupid lot of individuals!' he barked out. `You can't
even get yourselves into a bloody straight line.'

   This caused a lot of heads to turn and some shuffling of feet.

   `Stand still you bleeding lot of sods,' he shouted. `Lift your right arm
and put the finger tips to the other man's shoulder and that is how far
apart you should be. Come on! Do it!' and so using this method of distance,
we managed to get into some sort of decent line.

   `Now let's have you standing to attention and not slouching.'

   There was movement again as we stood at what we thought was the posture
for being at attention.

   `No you useless lot of misfits!' he screamed. `You still look like fish
wives nattering at the market! Corporal! Show them how it's done in this
army.'

   So the corporal stood in front of us and the sergeant ran through the
drill of attention, at ease and stand easy. This he did several times as we
all began straightening ourselves up as he went to one end of the line and
began asking each man his name, and through hearing what he shouted at
them, that we were to always add the word sergeant after giving out an
answer to anything he said to us, whether it was a question or an
order. Mind you, a lot of his comments to those he spoke to were quite
derogatory and I got some of it too when he stopped in front of me.

   `Well here's a nice pretty looking boy! What's your name?' he shouted,
his face inches from mine.

   `Sargeant sergeant!' I replied, not looking at his eyes but more of his
hairline.

   `You taking the piss pretty boy?' he barked at me. `Quiet you lot,' he
snarled to some others further down the line at some sniggers.

   `No sergeant,' I answered him.

   `Give me your full name then,' he barked at me.

   `Peter Sargeant sergeant. It's spelt with an A sergeant,' I said.

   `God help you if you ever get to my rank then my pretty boy,' he said
and then moved in front of Terry.

   `Another nice looking boy. Wipe that smirk off your face!' he screamed
at Terry, next to me. `What's your name?'

   `Marshall sergeant,' he replied.

   `If your first name is Field, I'll knock your bleeding head off!'

   `It's Terry, sergeant.'

   `What did you do in civvie street?'

   `A sous-chef sergeant.'

   I turned my head to look at him, as that was what I supposed I was doing
at the hotel where I had worked.

   `Eyes front!' he screamed at me, and turned back to Terry. `A jumped up
cook then,' he sneered.

   `No sergeant,' Terry answered.

   `Don't talk back to me!' he screamed at him. `If I say you're a cook,
then a cook you are. If I say you're a shit bag, then you're a shit
bag. What are you?' This last being shouted again.

   `A shit bag cook sergeant,' Terry replied.

   `Take that smirk off your crud like face,' he screamed at the man on the
other side of Terry as he moved on in front of the man.

   `Your name better not be Major or I'll be kicking your fucking arse all
round the parade ground.'

   `No sergeant, it's Enfield. Lee Enfield sergeant.' How the man kept a
straight face I don't know.

   `Oh Christ!' the sergeant groaned. `You should be in a fucking rifle
brigade, not the fucking infantry!' he screamed.

   That's how it went down the line of men until he got to the end before
getting us into two lines and marched us off to the quartermaster's stores
to collect our uniforms and gear. We were all loaded down to take this back
to our hut where the corporal took over and told us to change out of our
civilian clothes and put the uniforms on.

   He then showed us how a bed should be made, in the army way, which
wasn't far different from the way I made my own bed back home. He also
showed how our locker should be filled with our other gear and passed round
a detailed picture of how our kit should be laid out on the bed for a kit
inspection.

   I'm not going to go into all the little details that we had to learn or
of all the names we kept getting called as we were drilled. The way to form
up, get into rows of three or four. The correct way to turn with a stamping
of feet. The about turn, the salute and how to march. It was two weeks
before they even gave us a gun to carry. Then it was all the positions of
sloping arms, at attention, shoulder arms and all the rest, Standing at
attention with the rifle butt grounded, at ease, presenting arms etc.

   It was drill, drill and more drill until we began to understand that you
had to obey an order instantly and being able to do it in time with the
others.

   It was four weeks before we got round to stripping down and
re-assembling the rifle before we were allowed to have a few shots of it at
the rifle range. But all that came later in those six weeks of training.

                                                         *

   It was two weeks to the day that I was attacked and raped. I'd had my
shower and was in my bed asleep when I was suddenly woken up by the sheet
and blanket being ripped off of me. It was dark and didn't see who was
there but felt the fist that cracked against my jaw, almost knocking me
senseless. I was pulled off the bed and had two hands grip my wrists and
pull me across my bed.

   `No women for two weeks now, pretty boy, so you'll have to do,' said a
whispered voice behind me. What with always sleeping naked and now being
stretched across my bed with my bare arse out on the other edge, knew what
was going to happen. And it did!

   My legs were pushed apart and a hand held onto one hip and I felt the
head of the cock of the man behind me, nestle up against my ring piece. My
cry of alarm was muffled by the sheet on my bed as I felt that hard cock
pushed forcefully up into me, feeling the other hand come to hold my other
hip as I had this throbbing lump of male flesh stuck up my backside.

   The entry wasn't that painful as I'd been unprepared for it, as the man
behind kept moving his hips, his thighs slapping against the cheeks of my
bum as his cock slid back and forth inside as he fucked me. He wasn't
gentle and kept ramming himself into me and gripped my hips tight as be
began to come. His groin was tight up against my thighs as he held me
tight, feeling his cock swell that little bit more and throb away as he
began shooting his sperm into me.

   I thinking I was panting as much as he was when he'd finished and pulled
out of me, feeling the air, seemingly cold, waft round my shrinking ring
piece.

   `Just what the M.O. ordered,' the whispered voice said as he let go of
my hips. I lay there gasping at having had this sudden attack, and thought
that was that as my hands were released too. I was wrong, for they were
suddenly seized again, and pulled tight across the bed again.

   `My turn now,' whispered another voice and once again, I had another
cock shoved up my arse. This time I cried out for I had clenched my
sphincter muscle tight as the head of this other cock touched my ring, but
was unable to stop the forced entry. He slid in like the other one, and now
had this cock ream my back passage, though the ride was smoother this time
due to the semen of the first man. He grunted as much as the other man as
he reached his peak, holding my hips tight as he rammed himself up into me,
his body stiffening as I felt his sperm jet out into my backside. Holding
my hips tight as he jerked away at least six times before his grip relaxed
and stroked my hips as he pulled out of me and I stifled a groan as the
hole of my backside was enlarged once again.

   `Did you enjoy it pretty boy?' the one in front of me asked as he let go
of my wrists. `We certainly did.'

   I heard their feet patter away in the darkness and I lay there across my
bed, trying to hold back the sobs of just having been fucked by two
men. Who, I didn't know, and lay there for at least five minutes before I
got up off of my knees and crawled into my bed, sniffing back the tears and
pulled up the covers and tried not to think of what had just happened to
me.

                                                          *

   My eyelids were gummy from the tears that I'd shed during the night when
I woke up to the rousing shout from the sergeant. My jaw ached from the
blow I had received as I got out of bed and dressed before getting my wash
gear together to go off to the wash house and latrines.

   I looked into the dirty cracked mirror above the wash basin and
shuddered at how I looked. Bloodshot eyes and a purplish bruise on the side
of my face. I quickly ducked my head and scooped up cold water to wash my
face before brushing my teeth.

   `I heard what happened last night,' Terry whispered from the basin next
to me.

   `I don't know what you mean,' I said, mumbling through the towel I was
using.

   `I know the sounds of when a man is having sex and at the point of
coming.' A point which led me to believe two things. One, that he wasn't
one of the two, and second, that he'd at some time or another, had had sex
with another man. `Who was it?'

   `I don't know,' I said, then realising that I was admitting that I had
indeed been fucked that night. `I was knocked almost senseless before they
attacked me. There were two of them.'

   No more was said as we finished our ablutions and went back to our
barrack to put our gear away before our P.T. which was held until it was
time for breakfast.

                                                         *

   It was a week later, in bed and at night that I was attacked again in
the same fashion. My covers were pulled off and I was hit before being
dragged off the bed and fucked again by these two men. I tried hard to
prevent the first one gaining entry to my backside but he really pushed
hard and it hurt as he forced his way past the sphincter muscle and I once
again had his throbbing cock back up inside me.

   My wrists were held firm as I had this hard cock moving in and out of me
as he fucked away, crooning softly. I felt every spurt of his seed as he
came, the cock throbbing away as he held me tight to his thighs. I couldn't
help the groan I gave as he pulled out and tried to get up when my wrists
were released, but a chop at the back of my neck stunned me again as the
other man got behind me as my wrists were once again held by the first man
as I had the second prick shoved up my arse.

   This time I had forced myself to relax, though the blow to the back of
my neck helped in this instance as his cock entered me. His hands held me
firmly as he moved himself in and out of my backside and I was horrified to
feel that I myself was getting an erection from this fucking of
me. Stretched across the bed, my knees on the floor, my cock was up and
hard, banging away to the underside of the bed as the man behind me kept
pushing himself up against me.

   He was soon grunting and heaving himself tight up to the cheeks of my
bum, his thighs mashed against mine as I felt his sperm coating the insides
of my anal canal. I'm sure that my hips would show the imprint of his
fingers having held me so tightly as he came.

   I gave out another small cry as he pulled out and I'm not sure now
whether it was from relief of not having him there or the loss. They left
me lying there as before and it was several minutes before I got into bed
and pulled the covers up, only to get another shock. The top of my sheet
was being pulled down and I heard Terry whisper.

   `Move over and let me get in. We need to have a talk.'

                                                         *