Drill Sergeant

The pain she caused him was irrelevant in the face of the enormous pleasure. His hand moved ever faster on his cock. He was unable to continue syncing his movements. Lost in the moment, Drill Sergeant Slaughter didn't even punish him for the lack. All her concentration was focused on the pleasure she received from his hand and the effort not to cry out and have them discovered. She bit into his shoulder as the stirrings of a powerful orgasm hit her full on. Her body went as taunt as piano wire and everything clenched. She too was breathing hard, as if under a great strain. "Show me, Gabe," she said in a harsh whisper. "I wanna see you cum." She punctuated her words by sticking a finger up his ass without even a hint of warning. He stood on his toes as her fingers quested for his prostate, clenching his cheeks uselessly against the intrusion. She reached her goal within his rectum and tickled while her other hand batted away the hand on his dick so that she could do the job herself. The contact, the conflicting sensations, the buildup was too great. He released a shower of cum out into the poison air, spurt after never ending spurt until he was spent, drained, empty. Only when was completely done did she remove her finger and allow him to relax his anus. His bones felt like jello.

She had recovered from her orgasm much faster than he. Her uniform was already back in place before he could shake the cobwebs from his mind. She had even managed to clean her hands and discard the wet wipe used for the purpose. Gabe on the other hand had fallen to his knees, his legs unable to support him. "Get up," she said, her voice slightly husky but otherwise giving no hint of their recent illicit activities. He struggled to follow her command, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "I SAID get the fuck UP," she said more forcefully, although still not very loud. "Man your position. My perimeter is unguarded." Finally he willed his legs to work more or less correctly, fixed his clothes and did as instructed. He had to lean on the wall for support but he was technically holding his weapon in a fighting position and was guarding against an imaginary enemy.

Satisfied that he at least looked the part, she disappeared into the yellow mist and brightening sunshine. The Company had to maintain Mission Oriented Protective Posture, or in other words, stay in their frighteningly hot chemical protection suits for 4 hours. His rendezvous with Drill Sergeant Slaughter took at most 20 minutes but was probably closer to 5. With no one else in his fighting position, listening to nothing other than himself taking ragged breaths through the air filter, he had plenty of time and space to think.

After the elation of finally being allowed to spill his seed wore off, his first thoughts were of shame. He knew he was beaten, that she had broken him. He thought back on the session and found that he loved the pain she caused while giving him pleasure. The two emotions had become irrevocably interwoven in his mind to the point that he could not feel one without the presence of the other. He did not know if she intended to change him in that fashion or if she was just getting her sick kicks but it didn't matter in the slightest. Before he met Drill Sergeant Slaughter with her pretty eyes and viper's smile he figured he was normal. Now he felt he was a freak. Even if Basic Training ended in the next hour and he was free to go home he knew he could never truly escape her. She would haunt his dreams and nightmares forever and he would both love and loathe it. He blinked away the bitter tears of shame and did his duty. It was all he had left.

Graduation

Sixty-seven soldiers stood stiffly at Attention on the parade grounds at Fort Jackson, SC. The heat of summer was mostly spent as evidenced by the cool autumnal breeze making its way through the assembled mass. The onlookers, the friends and family of the newest additions to the Army ranks, were restless; the Post Commandant had been longwinded in his welcome. The graduates, used to far more brutal conditions than this stood firm, their discipline compelling them to keep still at all costs. At the head of the 67 souls in formation stood PFC Gabriel Archimedes Campbell. As Soldier of the Cycle, it was his place of honor, yet he took no joy in being honored so. He had no family there to wish him well. His brother was the only family he had left and Caleb was stuck in Afghanistan. He had earned his place at the head of the formation but he felt soiled anyway. All he had left was duty. He would not screw up this day for his fellow graduates no matter how pointless it seemed to him.

Perhaps having been signaled by his peers for time, the Commandant wound down his speech and finally released the fellows standing stiffly in the heat to their families or, in the case of Gabe, to his next duty station. He weaved through the crowd of unfamiliar faces, eager to get away. Some of his fellow graduates stopped him to offer heartfelt congratulations, a few with genuine envy in their voices. The acknowledgements he gave back sounded flat to his ears. He was not surprised that no one noticed his lackluster responses however. Their families were there after all. They had people cheering them on for being allowed entry into their newest career path. They couldn't spare more than an idle thought about the aloof one, the guy without a battle buddy, Mr. Perfect. He didn't begrudge them their happiness or their thoughtlessness. He felt he would be much like them had his parents lived or if his brother had been able to make it to the ceremony. He knew that they'd be ashamed if they knew the type of degenerate he'd become but they would've supported him anyway.

Gabe had cleared the crowd with relief. He was tired of people, tired of giving half smiles and false congratulations to ones who could never understand his struggle. All he wanted was to go back to the barracks, peel off his dress uniform and lay down with a towel on his head until transport came to take him to his next duty station the next morning. He didn't want to admit even to himself the main reason he wanted to leave so badly. He wanted to avoid the one who owned him. He knew Drill Sergeant Slaughter was lurking and he did not want to face her. He could never be sure but he assumed that she had some fresh new torture in mind for him as a going away present. He dreaded it. He did. The butterflies in his stomach were products of fear, not desire. The blood pumped into his cock as he failed to push away his lusty, immoral, degenerate thoughts. Dammit! I wanna be NORMAL! He shouted in his head.

Assaulted by sudden images of new, creative ways to be tortured while being sexually stimulated, he picked up his pace to clear the parade field. He figured that if he could just get to the barracks then he would be fine. He'd be alone with his thoughts for at least a little while longer. And maybe, just maybe he would be able to forestall Drill Sergeant Slaughter's parting gift. "Congratulations Private Campbell," a voice whispered in his ear, stopping him in mid-stride. He slowly turned around to face the source of the whisper. Of course it was Drill Sergeant Slaughter. She would have never let him leave in peace. He went to Attention without conscious thought. She continued, voice slightly louder, her sultriness factor turned up to 100. "I must say that I'm proud of you. I put you through hell and you rose to every challenge I set for you. You even made Soldier of the Cycle. Good job cowboy."

"Thank you, Drill Sergeant," Gabriel replied. He didn't know what else to say. His mind was moving a mile a minute trying to analyze her words and what they meant for his immediate future. He knew she had an angle, an agenda. She always had something in store. He quickly studied her body language for clues. Was there something in her easy smile that signified his doom? Then he noticed something he thought might be of significance; she was no longer wearing the drill sergeant brown round. Instead she had a perfectly shaped red beret sitting atop her perfectly arranged hair.

"Just Sergeant now," she said with a sweet smile, no traces of venom present. "You guys were my last cycle. Anyway, I wanted to catch you before you ran off. I wanted to shake your hand and let you know there are no hard feelings."

"Of course not drill, um, I mean Sergeant." He stumbled over his words slightly. He didn't know what to make of this woman. It was as though she was a different person without the hat. Surely everything she put him through wasn't merely an act. Was it? And what did that mean for him if it was? These thoughts flashed through his head in an instant as he put his hand out for her to shake.

Their palms met. Her flesh was warm, soft and pleasing to the touch. Her handshake was firm. "Stay safe, Private Campbell," she said sweetly. "And good luck." Greeting completed, duty fulfilled, she walked past him, brushing up against him as she went. Bewildered by the exchange he continued on to the barracks to take off his dress uniform, shower and put on the civilian clothes he thought he'd never see again. He'd been more relaxed than at any point since he showed up at Boot Camp. The emotion was an unfamiliar one but not entirely unwelcome.

Reality had finally set in. I made it Bro! I finally fucking MADE IT! His final encounter with the bane of his existence had not been as bad as he feared. He allowed himself to feel elation and pride in his accomplishments. A huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and with it the dark cloud that had descended on him after Drill Sergeant Slaughter had completely broken him. He even had hope that one day he would be able to feel genuine joy again.

His elation lasted until he took off his dress trousers and found a note in his pocket. It was signed S.O. Slaughter.

******************************************************************

The sun was setting and the air was cool as Gabe stepped out of the cab. He paid the driver in cash and watched with trepidation as he drove away. His stomach had been in knots since he read her summons. And it was a summons, no matter how politely worded. Although she was no longer his drill sergeant he found that she still had power over him, being the author of his true sexual awakening. She'd asked him to meet her at the Doubletree hotel a few miles off post. He tried to fool himself into thinking he was making an actual decision but he couldn't lie to himself convincingly. He never had a choice in the matter; he would always and forever be at her beck and call. At least she didn't make me wear my uniform, he thought as he took a deep breath. Seeing no sense in delaying and fearing the consequences of being late he walked through the lobby at a measured pace to the room specified in the letter.

229. He arrived at the door at 8:55 and knocked. Early means on-time. The door opened slowly; the vision on the other side was a feast for his eyes. Stephanie Olivia Slaughter was dressed in a pink tank top with no bra, breasts standing firm and free with zero sag. Her shirt cut off, displaying her rippled midsection and belly ring. Her white shorts were cut low, the string of her matching pink thong riding high on her hip. His gaze traveled down her body to her toned and tanned legs and finally her bare feet pretty pink painted toes. He was so dumbfounded by the sight of her perfectly proportioned body he didn't see the bemused expression on her spectacled face or the fact that her hair was down. "Well, don't just stand there cowboy. Come in. Have a seat on the couch."

As if her words drew him back from the abyss he snapped out of his daze. He moved, albeit slowly, to the couch she directed him to and sat stiffly. She sat on the bed across from him with one leg folded under her ass, the other hanging off of the edge. There was a table between them with two glasses of bourbon on the rocks. She picked up her glass and motioned for him to pick up the one closest to him. "First, a toast to the Soldier of the Cycle, huh?" They touched glasses. "Cheers!" she said enthusiastically. He mumbled the standard reply, still on edge. He drained his glass in one gulp. He recognized her attempts to put him at ease but too much was between them for him to let his guard down. To prevent her from finding more creative ways to hurt him for non-compliance he drank and hoped the alcohol would do its work.

She did not miss a beat, refilling his glass without him asking. She sipped her own drink and for a while they said nothing, content with the silence in the air-conditioned suite. Gabe took his second shot a bit more slowly than his first but he was still done before she had drained her glass halfway. She poured him another glass before she finally spoke. "I know you're wondering why I asked you here tonight. "

"The thought had crossed my mind, uh, Sergeant," he said, remembering at the last minute that she was no longer a drill sergeant.

"It's Stephanie. For tonight, it's Stephanie." Now it was her that seemed nervous, tentative. Gabe thought it was cute, a word he could have never applied to her before that moment. Sexy? Yes. Scary? Most definitely. Merciless? Absolutely. He liked cute though. She emptied her glass and poured herself another before continuing. "Well first, when I told you I was proud of you I wasn't just blowing smoke up your corn hole. I put you through your paces and you didn't fold. I've broken countless privates but you bared up under the pressure better than any I've ever had." The praise was as welcome as it was unexpected. He couldn't help but smile. She was not finished. "I tried you tell you at the ceremony but you still had that 'just got out of Basic' thousand-yard stare going. Understandable, but a little hard to convey genuine praise when you are like that. For tonight I want you to think as little about the military as possible. So you can call me Stephanie or Steph and I'll call you Gabe. How about that?"

"Sounds good, Steph" he said, already buzzing. The liquor made him a bit light-headed. He hadn't had much experience with the stuff.

"Great. So let me get to the real reason why I asked you to come by. I know you wanna fuck me," she said plainly. The sentence his brain and drove all the mellowness out of him. His eyes widened and he looked poised to bolt. Oh fuck! I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm so fucking dead, he thought over and over. Even after all she'd put him through he didn't think she would just come right out and say it. "Calm down, Gabe, calm down," she spoke in soothing tones. "I told you because I need to clear the air. Yes I know you want to fuck me, or at least you did at one time. Well I want to reward you for all your hard work during this cycle. For one night, you can have me however you like. You can use my body in whatever way you wish. That is, if you still want me. Do you still want me Gabriel?" She punctuated her statement by setting her glasses on the table and pulling up her shirt to reveal her jaw-dropping tits.

His penis made a credible effort to burst through his cargo shorts. His eyes widened and his hands gripped the upholstery. Somebody pinch me; I gotta be dreaming, he thought as he burned the image of her amazing body forever into his memory. He must have accidentally said it aloud. She reached across the table and pinched his upper thigh near his bulge. "It's no dream, see? Now I need an answer before I can..."

"Yes! A Thousand Times YES! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?" A second too late he realized that he had interrupted her mid-sentence, something he would have never dreamed of doing. His heart was racing in his chest. He prayed he didn't blow it.

However, she didn't seem to mind. Instead she smiled like a huntress in range of her prey. She slowly uncrossed her legs and crawled across the table. He was caught like a deer in the headlights. She closed the distance slowly, implacably, until she was straddling his lap. His arms went around her automatically, naturally. She fit his arms as if she were born to hold that position. She leaned into him. Her cinnamon breath tickled his earlobe, making him sigh. "I love your enthusiasm," she said in a sexy whisper. "Truth be told, the reason I was so hard on you was because I wanted to fuck you too."

He probably should not have been stunned by her revelation but he was regardless. That allowed her to take the lead, to sate some of her frustration borne from being so close to someone yet not allowed to take the final step. She nibbled his ear while he ran his fingertips up and down her spine in approximation of what she'd done to him the first time he jacked off for her. He hit a sensitive spot and she gasped before biting his ear just short of drawing blood. She slammed her mouth home into his. He tasted bourbon and cinnamon and was doubly intoxicated. He kissed her back lustily.

They finally broke the kiss long enough for him to peel his shirt off, then she was back at him. Her wonderful hands ranged all over his Basic Training-built torso while her lips found his neck and trailed slowly downward. She lingered at his pecks, taking care to bite and suck each nipple. She traced his 6-pack with her tongue while undoing his belt buckle. They both understood where her mouth would lead; they each savored the sensation and the anticipation. They were not rushing. They had all night to consummate their newfound understanding.

Stephanie gauged the moment where she felt Gabriel's youth and impatience began to get the best of him. He was unconsciously moving his hips and thrusting the air. She was ready for it, had been ready. "Stand up," she told him as she looked up at him from her knees. He complied while looking into her lust-filled eyes. Those eyes had starring roles in his dreams; that endless clear green ocean had stalked him through every nightmare. They tormented him and made him crazy with desire. Finally his eyes could match hers in fire and passion. This one night meant he didn't have to hide the lust he felt every time he saw her, did not have to avert his eyes at her knife-sharpened gaze. He could show her what hid in his heart for two and a half months. She had awakened something savage inside him and she was going to pay the consequences.

"Open your fucking mouth," he said in a forceful tone, a tone he would not have had the audacity to use even an hour ago. She did so meekly. He grabbed two fistfuls of silky hair and forced his hard cock all the way past the opening in her throat. She grabbed his ass and pulled him in, helping him to shove his entire cock in until her nose nestled in his sparse pubic hair. She let out a low moan that made her throat vibrate, teasing the cockhead wedged in her esophagus. He began to fuck her face with a fury born of deprivation. She sucked and slurped and kept up with his every thrust while reaching down to pleasure herself. Her muffled moans around his cock served to make him stroke faster. She knew how to heighten his pleasure and she knew how to make him cum. She reached up with her unoccupied hand and massaged his balls. She wanted all his cum right then, she had no interest in stopping his flow. She was confident that he would rise to the occasion as many times as necessary.

Her moans and touches were enough to open the floodgates. With a mighty roar Gabe let out an explosive amount of cum. Stephanie's cheeks bulged as he released jet after jet into her mouth, so much that she could not hope to swallow it all. She let the rest dribble down her chin. When he finally released her hair she lightly ran her teeth along his shaft, then vacuum sucked the head to gather every last drop. Then she stood and smiled, her expression saying, Top That, cowboy! more clearly than if she'd actually said the words aloud.