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MILITARY SCHOOL TRAINING & MANAGEMENT, Chapter 17
Jed Davis was only a few months out of prison when Christopher was born in a charity ward in a West Texas hospital, but he was already flush with cash and driving a car of suspicious origin. A three-year stretch for burglary improved his skills as a criminal, and he came to share the winnings with his mother. He didn't know she had become pregnant, and wasn't pleased.
"You don't even know who the father is, do ya?" he asked as he drove her to the hospital. "Fine, ya can put my name on the god damn birth certificate, but yer gonna pay for that on yer back. If ya can whore for them, ya can whore for me."
A life that began in chaos stayed that way, his "father" coming and going, his mother not bothering to conceal her prostitution from her son. Children, being cruel and tribal by nature, and more so in the hard-scrabble vastness west of Abilene, were not kind to the boy with the whore for a mother. It didn't help that they lived on the wrong side of the wrong side of the tracks, in two rooms above a gas station just down the dirt road from the tavern where she plied her trade.
In truth, Christopher Davis was the son of a scrawny yet strikingly handsome sheriff's deputy, and a beautiful alcoholic prostitute. He grew up without many friends, but that began to change in high school, when classmates realized that he was a conduit for booze and whores. He went along with it as a means of finally getting them off his back, exchanging access for protection.
But they were not his friends and certainly not his confidants. He saved his frustration and pain for two people: his girlfriend, and his high school math teacher, a retired military man who listened to his tales of woe with a sympathetic ear, and who recognized and encouraged his efforts in school, which served as an orderly refuge from the chaos at what passed for home.
In secret, he was a talented mimic and budding comedian, frequently doing impressions of the popular high school boys for his girlfriend, who would laugh at his lampoons. The tranvestitism started as a running joke, but he began to like it, and at the academy his confusion morphed into homosexual interest in the Men there, mixed with the same resentment he'd felt in high school.
"Okay, I'd say it's time," Caleb said one night gently squeezing one of Chrissy's nipples through her shirt, making it erect. "Clifty, you lick my balls while I give her a good 'ol' screwin'."
While Caleb was taking charge of Clifton that summer, the Commandant arranged for the "colonel," his wife, the sheriff, and the sheriff's son, Zeke, to travel to the academy. The drive from Arkansas took three days, and it gave the Men plenty of opportunities to humilate the "colonel" along the way.
"Oh yeah, Melinda," the sheriff said as he rhythmically fucked her in a hotel room somewhere in Iowa, while Zeke sat in a chair next to the bed getting his dick tended by the "colonel" while he laughed at the Trainee almost three decades his senior.
"Suck on it good and tight there," the young Man said, his tone scornful and teasing. "Dad says you're almost as good at sucking dick as he is at fucking your wife."
"That's right, lick my balls while I screw her," Zeke said the next night. "I will let you know when I'm ready to cum, and then you'll put your mouth on my dick and swallow what comes out."
The "colonel" followed the order, and then Zeke stayed in place.
"I got to take a leak, but it's too far to the bathroom," he said, and pissed hard into his mouth.
"Thank you, sir," the Trainee said afterwards, as the sheriff and his wife watched and laughed.
"How long has it been since I fucked ya?" the sheriff said after Zeke had zipped up.
"It's been almost two months, sir," the Trainee replied.
"Okay, tomorrow you clean yourself out and hold it in all day while I drive," the sheriff said. "Zeke and I will make you squirm and squeal on our next stop."
"Okay Zeke, I'm going to show you something," the sheriff said after the "colonel" removed his cage and laid down on the double bed in the hotel room. Melinda teased him into an erection, and the sheriff used a thick rubber band as a makeshift cock ring to keep it rigid.
"His kid Cliff has a little dick too," Zeke remarked, holding his index finger next to the colonel's dick. "This one doesn't reach my second knuckle."
"You hold this vibrator it underneath his balls, and while you're doing it you put two fingers up his butthole and give his prostate a massage," the sheriff said, casually. "Keep it up, and pretty soon he'll start to shake."
As the sheriff worked, Zeke went to the head of the bed. He unzipped his pants and put his dick in the Trainee's mouth and began screwing slowly. Melinda withdrew a tape measure from her purse and proclaimed that her husband's erection was 2-1/2 inches long.
"It's the same as our wedding night," she said, recalling that the sheriff had consummated the marriage while the Trainee licked his balls and then cleaned his discharge out of her snatch while stimulating her to orgasm. "In the beginning we collected his sperm and put it inside me to make Clifton."
The "colonel" was moaning and shaking, and then he squirted onto his stomach.
"There he goes," the sheriff said, his voice condescending and gently mocking as he dipped his fingers into the small puddle. He signaled Zeke to withdraw his hardon from the Trainee's mouth while he fed him his own cum. "Now what do you say?"
"Thank you, sir," the "colonel" replied.
"Time to screw him," the sheriff said to Zeke, whose enormous dick, coated with the Trainee's saliva and his own precum, glistened in the light from the hotel room's lamp. Zeke eased his way inside and built up a rhythm, and came.
"And now for the grand finale," the sheriff said to the Trainee, peeling off his tight uniform to reveal a barrel chest covered with a carpet of fur, and a long, thick erection. "You know what to do."
The sheriff's dick, just as long and stiff as Zeke's, screwed Melinda while the Trainee repeated what he had done on his wedding night, licking a more powerful Man's balls until he came, then using his tongue to bring his wife to orgasm.
"What do you say?" the sheriff asked afterwards, summoning the words of humiliation that had been repeated countless times over the years.
"Thank you for satisfying my wife, sir," he replied. "And thank you for letting me satisfy you while you did it, sir."
"So how long have y'all been sucking dick, Chuck?" Zeke asked the next day after they were underway for the last 100 or so miles to the academy. The "colonel" was riding in the back seat next to his wife, and the sheriff and his son sat in front, wearing the uniforms that the "colonel" had gotten up early to launder, starch and iron.
Zeke had to shout to be heard, and the reverbation of his voice, and the tone, made the moment exquisitely humiliating.
"Wait, Chuck, I can figure it out. You and my dad were in the academy together, and he told me you were busted to Trainee while you were there, so I'm guessing 30 years."
"Yes sir, that would be correct," he answered meekly.
"Can't quite hear ya there, Chuck."
"It's been 30 years, sir," he replied, louder.
"I've gotta say you do a damn good job," the younger Man said. "I hope you enjoy your work. You like the dick, do ya?"
"Yes sir," he lied, knowing that the truth was unacceptable.
"Does what he did in eighth and ninth grade count?" Melida said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and ridicule. "It was all over the school, and when his daddy found out that was the end. But you'd better make that 32 years."
"Okay, then," Zeke replied with a laugh. "Chuck's been taking the dick for 32 years. Tell us, buddy boy, have you been getting fucked for 32 years too?"
"No sir, I did not do that in high school."
"So you've been sucking Men off for 32 years and getting fucked for 30?"
"Yes sir," the Trainee replied, thoroughly intimidated.
"It's good to know your place," the sheriff said, chiming in.
They pulled over for gas, and the Trainee filled the tank, checked the tires and oil, washed the windows, and paid the bill for the gas and a six-pack of beer. As they left the station, the two lawmen cracked open beers for themselves. A half-hour later, they pulled over at a rest area and filled their beer cans.
"How's that beer tasting, Chuck?" Zeke called out after they were underway.
"Very good, sir," he replied, softly.
"Damn, Chuck, speak up," Zeke said.
"Very good, sir!" he shouted. "Thank you sir!"
"Melinda, how long has it been?" the Commandant said when they entered his office. The powerfully built Man was in his mid-60s but looked almost 20 years younger. His tan uniform shirt stretched across a barrel chest, and when he stood up and walked across the room to greet her and the others, the "colonel" Trainee noticed how the Commandant's hard ass filled out his stiffly creased trousers.
"Roger, I do believe it's been 25 years," she said, causing the sheriff and the Trainee to realize that neither they nor anyone else who'd gone through the academy even knew the Commandant's first name.
While Charles Yarrow watched, the Commandant kissed his wife full on the lips, and lingered while the sheriff and his son smirked.
"Just like I remembered, sweetheart," he said. Their unconcealed passion was yet another humiliation for the Trainee, who could do nothing.
"Has the sheriff been taking good care of her?" the Commandant asked Yarrow. "Did I pick the right Man for her?"
"Yes sir," Yarrow answered meekly. "You picked the right Man, sir."
"You weren't even a gleam in your father's eye the last time I saw him and Melinda," the Commandant said to Zeke. "Between you and Caleb Jr., he sired two strong sons. Too bad he never sent you here."
"You're going to be getting another cadet from our town in a year," the sheriff said. "Name's Tom Sherman. Son of one of my deputies."
"Sounds good. We need to bring up the ratio so your place doesn't get a reputation for sending us Trainees," the Commandant replied, in a joking tone. "How was the drive out here?"
"Real nice ride," the sheriff said.
"This one been behaving?" the Commandant said, jerking his thumb toward Yarrow.
"Always!" the sheriff replied with a smile.
After dinner, the Commandant led them to the high-security bungalow where, as a cadet, the sheriff had trained Yarrow. He had called a meeting of the Tops to introduce the male guests.
"As everyone here knows, each summer, I call on a Top to return to the academy with a Trainee for three weeks," the Commandant told the group. "The purpose is to demontrated the lifelong nature of a Top's ownership and control, and the Trainee's duty."
Clad in his Trainee uniform, "Colonel" Yarrow looked at the floor while the Tops exchanged knowing grins.
"You can start with your oath," the colonel said, coldly.
"I am not a Man. I was never a Man," Yarrow began.
"Louder," the colonel said. "We can't hear you."
"I am not a Man," Yarrow said, his voice shaky but louder, repeating the words he knew by heart and had said hundreds of times over the years. "I will never be a Man. Every Man is my superior. I will spend my life in the service to Men whose ranks I will never join. I will honor and obey Men, without question or reservation, in any manner that they might require. So help me God."
"The Trainee will stay here for his visit, and the sheriff and his son will stay with Captain Yarrow while he trains Clifton Yarrow, but you will all have plenty of chances to meet both father and son Trainees."
He explained that Capt. Caleb Yarrow, despite his name, was the son of Sheriff Franklin, and that Clifton was only his half-brother and never to be confused with the Trainees with the same name.
"This was done for a reason," the Commandant said. "The Yarrow name goes back to the founding of Jackson Military, but the line weakened. Sheriff Franklin was on track to become one of our Cadet Majors, but made the sacrifice of returning to his home town to strengthen the Yarrow line, a task that made it impossible for him to fulfill the full military career required of all Cadet Majors.
"That year, Caleb Franklin was named Acting Cadet Major, with the support of the Top. He is to be treated as a returning Major, due the appropriate respect from all of you. His son, Caleb Jr., is cut from the same cloth, and would face the same hurdle if he otherwise qualifies for the honor. Because of his future responsibilities involved with the Yarrow family business, he will have a short military career and cannot become a full Cadet Major, but he could become an Acting Cadet Major if he continues to perform well."
"Sounds like it's all wired in, Commandant!" one of the Captains called out.
"Not at all. Cadet Caleb Yarrow – or between us, Caleb Franklin Jr. -- is one of a few of you who I could see as our next Major," he replied. "No Commandant has ever appointed a Major who wasn't supported by the Conquest Corps. There have been some vetoes, including my own, but never an appointent against the wishes of the other Tops. That will not change.
"Sounds like he'll have to work for it, Commandant!" the same Captain called out, triggering laughter.
"Yes he will," the Commandant replied, cracking a rare smile. Still smiling, he reminded the Tops of their responsibilities. "Remember: Leave no marks, only impressions."
"Does that include the Trainee's wife?" a different Top asked, triggering another round of laughter.
"There are six of you here," the Commandant said. "Captain Yarrow isn't the Trainee's son, but the Trainee's wife is his mother. Five of you will get the chance to make her acquaintance."