Raw Recruits

by Zack

  Crammed on the cot nearest to him were Brad and Jim, still fast asleep, legs wrapped around each other. He focused on Harry’s bed to find his friend lying propped up against a pillow casually smoking a cigarette and looking highly amused.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” Luke groaned. The sound of his voice reverberated in his head.

  “If you could see what I can see you’d know. The body beautiful looks as though he’s been dragged through the drain face down.”

  Luke gave a cursory look at himself and saw that it was true. He was matted with dried seminal fluids and dirt from the bar floor. He groaned again and fell back on the pillow. “How the hell did I get back up here?”

  “You didn’t get back here, I had to carry you up. I found you slumped over Sam, dead to the world.” Harry grinned. “You should have heard the sucking sound when I pulled you off him.”

  “Bastard,” Luke grated. “Thanks.” Then he remembered the marks on Harry’s chest. “By the way where did you get those from? You looked as though you’d been whipped.”

  “It’s not quite like it seems. I don’t mind crawling now and then but I draw the line at a beating. It was the sergeant. I had a feeling he might be into a bit of disciplining himself and I was right, but he likes to put up a bit of a fight first.”

  He didn’t seem to want to elaborate any further so Luke let it go.

  “Anyway I thought that if I played with him he might let Brad alone, to have some real fun on his first night.”

  The subject of that remark snuffled softly and turned over in his sleep onto his stomach. As they watched, Jim, apparently half asleep and oblivious to their presence, rolled on top of Brad and pushed his morning stiffy into the boy’s ass and pumped gently, but his motions gradually got less as he surrendered to sleep again.

  “What say we wake them up like the randy dogs they are?”

  Harry swung his legs off the bed with an energy that made Luke feel nauseous and headed for the door. Luke sighed. A couple of minutes later Harry came back carrying a bucket of water, went over to the sleeping forms, and poured it over them. The two young studs yelped into wakefulness and Jim was thrown on the floor as Brad tried to scramble upright.

  “You trashy bastard,” Jim snarled. He launched himself at Harry, but he was still groggy and slipped to land at Harry’s feet in a pool of water. Harry placed his foot none too gently on the spluttering form and said, “Surrender?”

  A muffled affirmative came from the floor and Jim got up.

  “I’ll have your ass for that,” Jim snapped, but there was a trace of a smirk on his face.

  Luke winced at Harry’s guffaw. “First you gotta catch it and even then I’d never notice your baby prick.”

  Jim launched himself at Harry in defense of his fat brown cock’s reputation but their antics were interrupted by a voice from the door.

  “Good morning gentlemen, I’m glad to see you are still enjoying yourselves.”

  It was Jan, only this time he was dressed in clean bush shorts and T-shirt, but there was no mistaking that perfectly muscled body. Luke’s cock twitched and he was about to speak when Jan drew himself up and shouted, “Ten-hut!”

  The three recruits were so surprised that they had leaped stiffly to attention before they’d time to think about it.

  “That’s better. This is an army, you grunts, not a Cancun holiday resort, and you’ll do well to remember that. I want you all to go and clean that shit off yourselves in the showers and put on the khakis you’ll find waiting for you when you finish. Then report to the bar downstairs for breakfast.”

  He turned and left.

  “I see you’ve got more than a passing interest in that guy,” Brad muttered. He looked down pointedly at Luke’s cock sticking up like a flagpole.

  “You fucking bet I do. I owe him an assful.”

  There were about a dozen other recruits in the communal showers when they arrived.

  “Christ alive, don’t we all looked shagged out.”

  Luke turned in surprise at the British accent, to find the buckeroo from the beer bukkake of last night standing beside him. He wouldn’t have known him for an English guy then as he hadn’t much opportunity for talking, what with all those cocks down his throat.

  “What’s that mean?” Luke asked, frowning.

  The Brit gave him a bleary-eyed grin. “Shagging … means fucking where I come from. It’s a football term over hear, ain’t it? Shagged out means you’re buggered from too much fucking, tired out, worn out, enervated, proper fucked out.”

  Luke nodded as he looked around the steamy space. There was little conversation. He noticed a lot of swollen, raw dicks and bruised asses. Yes, they were indeed all looking shagged out, he agreed. He saw Sam and Jimbo showering side by side, so obviously no hard feelings there. Sam was trying to clean out all the jizz from his multiple fuckings.

  Buckeroo casually eyed Luke’s naked form up and down and up again. “Hmm. Hey, when my mouth and ass are occasionally unplugged, my name’s Alan.”

  He stuck out his hand and they shook. “Luke,” was all he managed.

  “It’s no good, man,” Jimbo informed Sam with a wide smile, “it’s gonna be there for weeks.”

  They all found the energy to snort with amusement.

  “Here let me try and help you,” Jimbo continued when the laughter had died down. He grabbed a nearby hose, turned it on, and tried sticking it up Sam’s asshole. He succeeded briefly, for Sam yelped and jumped away from the shower base.

  There were only two stalls available so Luke and Jim took one together and Harry and Brad the other. Luke soaped Jim’s body brusquely at first then more gently. Standing behind him, he gripped the youth between his hands and glided fingers up and down over the relaxing muscles. Jim gave a soft aahhing sound and let his head fall back in pleasure as Luke massaged his abdomen in a circular motion. Jim’s eyes closed and he shivered. His cock thickened. Luke took hold of it and soaped his balls, the stiffening shaft, and his cock head. He gave Jim’s neck muscles a massage to release the tension then, reaching around to his back, ran two fingers up and down either side of Jim’s spine. He had learned this from an Arab masseur during a spot of R and R in Dubai as a way of restoring pep to a body tired by too much exertion.

  “Hey man, that’s beautiful,” Jim breathed.

  Luke knew what Jim was experiencing. At first a tingle in the flesh. Then little electric shocks running down his spine into his groin, building continuously as Luke rubbed the spinal nerve point that builds sexual energy.

  As he massaged the sweet spot, he cupped the youthful balls in the wet palm of his other hand and pressed their stiff soapy cocks together. Jim threw his head forward and backward as his entire body shivered violently with delight. Luke pulled him gently onto his own body and began to move the ridges of his powerful abdominal muscles sensually against Jim’s hard cock, pressing the tiny point on his spine harder.

  “Oh God, man,” Jim whispered. “How’re you doing that! I think I’m going to shoot. Ahhhh. Yes, I’m cumming, oh sweet mother. Ahhh.”

  His hot juice jetted between their bodies adding to the soapy lubrication. Jim fell against Luke and they stayed like that for a few moments rubbing gently against each other.

  “That was amazing! I feel really alive again. You gotta show me how to do it.”

  Several of the recruits had gathered around to watch and they too wanted to know how Luke did it without touching the boy’s cock with his hands.

  “Hey Luke, you can wake me up tomorrow morning.”

  “And me.”

  “Take my morning glory any day.”

  Luke smiled modestly. “Just a little trick I learned, guys.” And he went back to his showering.

  Brad had just finished and was toweling himself down when the sergeant strode in. As he wore only a jock strap, Luke could see wide red marks on his back and buttocks as though he had been whipped with a belt. Luke tipped his head at Harry but his friend pretended not to n
otice. He was also trying hard not to smile.

  The sergeant went straight up to Brad and pushed his face to within an inch of the youngster’s. “You’n me got a little business to attend to before breakfast. I was kind of busy last night.” He threw a nasty glance at Harry.

  Brad looked none too happy at this. “Now?”

  “Now, shithead. Right now.”

  Luke made to intervene, but Harry placed a hand on his arm. The sergeant noticed Luke’s movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward him with balled fists pressed firmly to his side.

  “You want to say something, punk?” he snarled.

  Luke tensed his muscles in readiness but made no overt move; instead he stared straight into the sergeant’s eyes. The two men stayed locked like this for a good thirty seconds, then Brad broke the tension. “It’s okay, Luke.”

  The sergeant narrowed his eyes at Luke in threat, then turned on his heel and marched Brad out.

  Luke spat into the shower. “I’ll get that piece of shite one day.”

  “You gotta let the boy handle this on his own. He’s gotta find out for himself,” Harry soothed.

  “Find out what?”

  “That the bastard is really a coward at heart. Take it from me. I know these things.”

  Luke looked at his friend with a new respect. “Judging by the weals on his back that’s just what he did. Took it from you.”

  “He went for me with that fucking swagger stick so I hung one on him. He went down and then begged for it again. I had the bastard cringing and he still wanted more. A guy that wants it that bad ain’t got no real grit. When it comes to the real thing he won’t know whether to fight back or suck up for more.”

  “Wow …” It was all that Luke could say, and only when he had recovered from Harry’s erudition could he ask, “How did you manage to find him out … I mean, know that he’d beg. I would’ve never guessed.”

  “Just a little trick I learned.” Harry smiled and went back to toweling himself.

  * * *

  Luke and Harry moved to the locker room, dressed, and headed down to the bar. Half-way down the stairs they heard Brad cry out from somewhere in the building. Luke stopped, his face hard, but he knew Harry was right. It just meant that three of them were now out for more than the sergeant’s ass.

  More tables had been brought into the bar, which showed no signs of the night’s orgy. Jimmy prided himself on his hard-working staff, who got paid for the unsocial hours they had to put in and the kind of mess they sometimes had to clear up. Luke recalled going, for some forgotten reason, into a large New York City gay disco at some unearthly hour of the morning, probably about ten-thirty, and the stench of stale sweat, stale sex, and stale poppers still lingered in his mind. But Jimmy’s in the morning was as spruced and fresh as an all-American diner. As the smell of frying bacon, eggs, and hash-browns assailed their nostrils the two friends realized how hungry they were. For the next half hour they gorged themselves on T-bone steaks as well as bacon, eggs, thick slabs of still-warm bread, pancakes, and a variety of tropical fruits.

  It wasn’t until they were swigging back big mugs of freshly brewed Jamaican coffee that the sergeant reappeared with Brad. The boy appeared more angry than hurt. The sergeant smirked at Luke and went off toward the room he used as an office. Brad collected his breakfast and seated himself next to them.

  “I hope it wasn’t too bad,” Luke offered. “At least you’ve still got an appetite,” he observed.

  “Shit!” was all Brad said and didn’t speak again until he had finished eating. Luke noticed that he was favoring one buttock so as not to sit too heavily on the bench.

  “Shit!” Brad intoned again as he sipped his coffee.

  “C’mon, spit it out. What was he into this time?” Harry asked.

  “You remember that giant that met us at the door?” Brad struggled to get control of himself again. And then the words gushed out in a torrent. “He got that bastard gorilla to drag me outside and fuck me while he watched. That ape had a tool bigger than Jimbo’s and he couldn’t get it all the way in but he sure tried, and when he came it was like he was pissing gallons into me. It was only when he’d had me and spread my ass so wide I was sure it was split that the sergeant took over. I’m gonna kill that bastard sergeant before we leave this job.”

  “Atta boy,” said Harry. “Just give us the word when you’re ready. We want to be in on that particular kill.”

  “Are you okay now?” Luke asked, still protective.

  “Yeah. Helluva sore butt but I don’t feel humiliated like out in the alley—just real mad. And Luke, thanks for trying in the shower, I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s okay. With you so sore you haven’t any choice but to fuck me,” he quipped, and they grinned at each other.

  The sergeant came through the curtain, now in his full combat gear, and stood, legs spread, hands on his hips. “Okay men, get your kit together, we’re moving out.”

  Outside in the alley sun shades snapped into play against the strong sunlight after twelve hours in the low light of Jimmy’s. By day the alley was like any other seedy drag and carried none of the anticipation and menace of the previous night. A large covered truck waited for them on the street and when all the recruits were inside, the sergeant pushed up the tailboard and tugged down a canvas side flap, concealing them from curious eyes. The truck dipped as he climbed up beside the driver in the cab. It seemed they were off at last to whatever mysterious destination they were bound.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ström’s War

  They drove for half an hour in the stiflingly hot gloomy interior without saying much. Sounds from beyond the truck’s canvas walls suggested they were traveling through the center of Kingston. When the truck finally halted and the driver lowered the tailboard the view confirmed that their destination was the airport but this time outside a small hangar in a clutch of buildings sited to the east of the main terminal. Two LearJets waited on the parking ramp, their offside engines already run up. The sergeant split the recruits into two groups and ordered the men to board as quickly as possible.

  They had barely taken seats and begun belting up when the engine noise increased and they were rolling fast along a short taxiway and onto the runway itself at the Norman Manley Highway end. Luke had a brief glance of the Caribbean Sea as the plane made a fast turn to line up, and then they were off. This was no commercial flight and the pilot made a steep climb out over Hunt’s Bay and Portmore, turning steeply without bothering to bank the aircraft, which made the sensation more uncomfortable for their passengers.

  “Jeez, our driver thinks he’s still flying an F-15!” Harry muttered.

  The jet soon leveled off at a relatively low altitude, which probably meant they didn’t have too long a flight, Luke thought.

  He was right. After following the southern coast of Jamaica for the length of the island, the pilot veered more to the south and after another thirty minutes commenced a rapid descent. Looking out Luke saw that they were flying over a small island roughly two miles in diameter and dominated by two peaks which couldn’t have been more than five hundred feet high. Nestling at the foot of one of the peaks he could make out a cluster of buildings and the blue flash of a swimming pool. This was clearly not their destination for there was no obvious place to land, but no more than four minutes later they circled a second island. This one was almost a perfect crescent shape about two miles in length and no more than a mile at its widest point. A runway stuck out into the lagoon enclosed by the arms of the atoll. Apart from the island’s two tips the rest was covered with thick, low-level jungle.

  Minutes later, the aircraft straightened out of a steep turn to make a hair-raising landing on the short runway. The approach over the sea made it feel as though they would hit the water. Just as Luke tensed for the inevitable crash, a flash of sand and green swept under the wing and the jets’ tires hit the asphalt a split-second after crossing the watery threshold. Half a second lat
er, they were all slammed forward violently against the seat belts as the engines blew back and thundered viciously to help brake the craft to a halt just short of the runway’s landward end. The pilot quickly wheeled off the runway onto a hard pan of compacted laterite to make room for the following flight.

  “Phew!” Luke muttered, fighting down the panic he felt. “Wish I had bought a book to read, I needn’t have looked up until we were down.”

  “Told you to buy one at JFK,” Harry replied smugly. “Fuckin F-15 jockey. Trust me. I know these things.”

  As they stepped down from the jet, Luke sniffed. The air—hot and humid—smelled of exotic flowers mingled with burnt kerosene from the engines, baked earth, sea ozone, and an undefinable smell of blocked drains, alleviated only by a slight breeze off the sea. A convoy of jeeps waited for the small army and they drove around the lagoon toward a complex of buildings about half a mile away, partly hidden by the thick, low vegetation. The sands of the lagoon were a pure white and the water an emerald green. Luke hoped that before the day was out he would get the chance of a swim. He nudged Harry. “I told you an island would have a beach.”

  “Sure. You know these things too.”

  Four long, low huts surrounding a square which had been cleared of trees made up the compound. At one of the corners stood a tall wooden lookout tower with a powerful searchlight visible. A man with a machine gun occupied the tower. Luke saw the flash of white light from the front lenses of the binoculars through which he was watching their approach. Just as they drove into the compound Luke glimpsed a high wire fence deeper into the jungle and thought he saw sunlight reflect off a large red-tiled two-story building.

  They piled out of the jeeps and stood around waiting for the rest of the recruits and the sergeant to arrive. He and Jan were in the last of the vehicles.

  “Right, men, the holiday’s almost over.” There were a few groans. “The hut behind you is the bunkhouse, six beds to each room. The kitchens and mess are over there.” He pointed to the opposite side of the square. “The command hut’s behind me, the briefing hut on your right. And that’s where I want you all in precisely …” checking his chronometer … “twenty minutes.”