This is harder edged, BDSM story with a sci-fi vibe, and inspired by Clay Caldwell's vintage stories.
1
THE BRIG
Jake Carrigan was just hungry, and he thought no one would notice the extra ration he swiped from the storeroom. Now here he was in the brig. A cold, dank cinderblock cell where the 22 year old was naked and on barefeet, hands above his head secured to a bar hanging from the ceiling.
In the peripheral vision he could see his Army uniform folded neatly on a bench at the edge of the cell. "Fuck!" he thought to himself. He'd heard from fellow soldiers who'd been sent here for solitary confinement, or worse.
It was an hour, or maybe two, waiting there. But Jake finally heard footsteps, heavy boots. Then the clank of the cell being unlocked.
"You're losing your flogging cherry, huh, Corporal?" came the deep booming voice that seemed to echo off the concrete.
A slight laugh followed, checked by a deferential tone, barked out. "Yes, Sir, Major."
A couple more steps. Then that deep voice again. "All that training... you know how not to leave permanent marks." It was a question started directly.
"Yes, Sir!"
"Prepare the Soldier."
Jake almost spoke up but he knew the punishment was only going to get worse if he did. Stealing was a class A offense. His body shook some when he felt the beefy uniformed body press against his back and thick arms wrapped around him.
It took Jake a second to register that a ball gag was being placed over his mouth. He resisted for a second, till he heard the Corporal bark, "Open up, Specialist Carrigan."
Jake did and felt the rubbery-plastic ball fit into his mouth, pretty much fully, before the Corporal secured it.
The wait seemed to take forever. Then the Specialist felt the rough slap and sting of the leather. It hurt, God it hurt, and his body twisted in involuntary reaction.
"Nice, Corporal," came the booming Major's voice. Jake didn't want to find that voice sexy, but in some fucked up way he did. "Let's call that a warm up. Now... twenty lashes was the punishment, I believe."
"Yes, Sir." The Corporal was excited for this.
Jake willed himself not to flinch the next time. He didn't want to give these bastards the pleasure. But damnit the Corporal had some power to his arm. Each time the leather rained down felt worse than the next.
Mentally, SPC Carrigan counted them off... five... six... seven.
Sweat formed on his brow and indeed all over his naked body. Mentally, Jake tried to focus on something else, something other than the flogging whip and the brig and how much it sucked to be a Soldier in the Order.
But only one image came to him, a memory from childhood. Early adolescence, really. Jake remembered being over his father's lap, getting the belt. Mike Carrigan believed in corporal punishment, and while Jake could no longer remember what he'd done to deserve it that day, he knew he probably had been testing his Dad's patience by acting up.
And Daddy had a strong arm, too.
The flog hit again, on Jake's strong upper back. He wished the leather would hit lower, on his ass, where Daddy's belt had hit all those years ago.
SPC Carrigan was hard now, rock hard. He no longer flinched and writhed and mentally he channeled the pain into all the memories.
It had been his first time hard, his first real hardon, getting the belt. Daddy had noticed, stopping and sending Jake to his room. The silent treatment from his father for the following week was harsher than the belt.
Jake moaned into the ball gag. Tears streamed down his face. He'd lost count. It all felt just too incredible, too deep a mind fuck.
The Corporal paused and put extra strength into the next hit of the flog.
That did it, SPC Carrigan's dick jerked and shot cum everywhere, on the cement floor and dank wall. He whimpered as he came, overwhelmed by his hands free orgasm and the psychological intensity of it all. As he nutted he could almost see his father in front of him. Hard body sculpted from manual labor. "This will hurt me, too, son," lecture. Those strong forearms clenching the belt.
"Enough, Corporal!" barked the Major.
"It's only 17, Sir," the Corporal said deferentially.
Already Jake was feeling a uniformed body step up to his nakedness. More ribbons and decorations. The major was undoing the ball gag.
"This one is for the Major General."
All SPC Carrigan knew is that he had a full meal that evening in his cell, and even some wine in a large plastic cup. Jake never liked wine, but he drank it with excitement. He didn't know what was in store, but intuitively he knew life would be different now.
2
THE ASSIGNMENT
MG Steve Wilcox worked late hours, but his family accommodated those with an 8 PM dinner. He had two daughters and one son. His eldest, Chelsea, was dating a doctor's kid and had made it clear she wasn't going to go for a military man. Steve didn't take offense, he knew that the life of a military wife wasn't for everyone.
The general had provided for Kate, though, and given her wealth and connections. It was a win-win of an agreement in his book. And she was a good mother.
The Wilcox family knew why Dad was in a good mood. A new indentured servant had arrived. The last one's contract had been up and for the last month, and their dad had been in an ornery mood. Quiet, terse.
The old Dad was back.
By ten, Steve went to his private quarters wing of the house. He shut the door and turned the corner to the study area.
"Fuck, you're better than the last," he blurted out. He hadn't mean to say that out loud, but the young man in front of him was perfect. Strong body, muscular but not too big, and gorgeous. He was naked and had an ankle transponder shackled to his leg.
The inactive Soldier was nervous, and fear was in his powder blue eyes. "Thank you, Sir," he replied.
MG Wilcox stepped in. "I haven't had time to read your brief," he barked. "What's your name?"
"Specialist Jake Carrigan, Sir," he replied automatically, then remembered to add, "Inactive."
Steve grinned. He reached forward and stroked the young military man's chin. "Why don't we get you broken in," he said. "Let's start by having you remove my uniform."
"Yes, sir!" Jake responded, standing up and pausing before the Major General nodded his OK. Carrigan undid the uniform coat.
"There's a closet to the side," Steve instructed. He watched Jake put away the uniform, then help him off with his shoes and trousers.
By the time the new servant was done, Steve Wilcox was rock hard.
"Take it out," he ordered.
Jake's first cock was a challenge to suck, and the General was big. Long and fat. But he did his best. Strangely when the General barked at him for doing something wrong, it thrilled him, and he corrected his approach.
He coughed on that first heavy load. Then swallowed.
Jake got a light slap when he pulled off. "Next time, no hesitation, Carrigan."
"Yes, sir."
3
BREAKING THE GRUNT IN
The Major General's approach was gradual, even gentle, the first week.
But he'd had a rough day. Chewed out by his commanding officer. And dealing with direct reports who were making him look bad. He told his family he'd take his dinner in his private quarters and prepared a plate to take back.
Jake excitedly got out of his seat and was prepared to assist the General with his uniform when he saw the plate of food.
"I can wait, Sir."
Steve cocked a grin. SPC Carrigan was far more malleable than his last. It had taken two months to break PVT Johnson in.
Steve set down the food. "Dinner will hold, Carrigan. Get the key."
Jake nodded. The General hold told him about the key and the room it was for, but they hadn't used it. Only now MG Wilcox was taking the key from Jake's hand and saying simply, "You're probably not ready for this Carrigan, but I don't give a fuck."
Jake didn't comprehend, but he watched the decorated officer walk over and open the door. He fixed his servant with a steely gaze. "What the fuck you waiting for, Grunt?" He cocked his head inside.
Jake was shaking now, goosebumps on his naked flesh, but he tried to hide it. The general was like a dog who could smell fear.
He stepped inside. It wasn't a big room but it wasn't as small as he expected. Maybe 8 by 10 feet, dimly lit with a single ceiling light. Padded walls. A rack on the wall held a number of whips and instruments and a padded table was in the middle.
"Get on it," the General said as he closed the door. Today, he was removing his uniform coat and hanging it on a hanger that seemed specially set up. The man wasn't making a move to remove the rest, though, instead tucking his tie into his shirt and rolling up his sleeves.
Jake did as asked. The leather bench felt cool against his bare chest and abs and soft cock.
"Dumb ass," the officer barked, "hands forward."
Jake did as asked and realized why. Cold restraints clicked around his wrists, holding them steadily in place.
The General seemed pleased beneath his gruff exterior. "You a screamer, Carrigan?"
"I don't know, Sir," came the deferential reply. "I don't think so."
The officer paused the run his hand over the Specialist's bare back and over his still mostly smooth ass.
Then he walked to the rack. Jake could see the man choose between the various items, before settling on a simple hickory cane with a leather handstrap at the end.
The inactive Soldier thought of home. Of his hardworking and tough but loving Father and his meek mother and his little brother. John would be of military age soon, and Jake sure hoped he'd have an easier time than this.
The cane was gentle at first, kind of patting his bare buns in light taps. Then came the first whack.
"FUCK!" Jake said, before catching himself.
The Major General laughed. "That's OK, Grunt. No one can hear you."
The caning was hard. Alternating buns with increasing ferocity.
Of course, Jake Carrigan got stiff then fully hard from it. He stopped screaming and gave soft needy whimpers along with the choked grunts.
"Goddamn," the general said, his earlier rage turning into lust. Jake could hear the zipper being lowered.
The General's fingers were thick as they applied some grease of some kind. "You virgin, Carrigan?" the officer asked.
"Yes, sir."
The hand pulled away. "Fuck, that ass is cherry red... so beautiful."
Jake stared forward at the wall and the assortment of whips and toys. Wondering when the others would be used on him. Looking forward to it.
The entry stung. A sharp pain and then like the caning he got used to it. The General took his cherry and fucked it away, hard. Jake lost his hardon, until a smack rained down on his ass.
"Take it, Grunt!"
"Yes, Sir!" came the eager reply.
Another swat, then another came. Jake was transported mentally to that spot on Daddy's lap. He came, seconds after the General did.
Jake was still hyperventilating when he watched the 52 year old officer walk to a table and get out a wipe to clean off his cock. Even spent that dick was impressively meaty. Powerful. It was still hanging out of his uniform when he turned to Jake. "From now on, you'll be ready to get fucked any evening. OK?"
His gentler tone was because Jake was still half out of it. But the Specialist nodded and eked out a "yes, sir."
Steve undid the restraints. "Your duties include keeping this room in order, and all the leather cleaned. But this was a lot of training for tonight. You can go shower off."
Steve actually had to help him up. The kid still had a hardon, but maybe that was an involuntary bodily reaction to the intensity of it all. "The water will sting, Carrigan," the officer said. "I went kind of hard on you."
"Thank you, Sir," came the response.
Steve cleaned up the cum off the bench and put away the cane. This went better than he expected. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, but Carrigan was maybe slave potential.
He'd stripped down naked by the time he stopped by the Grunt's cell of a bedroom. Jake was just settling into his cot. "You're sleeping with me, tonight, Carrigan."
"Yes, sir," Jake's reply came. He didn't feel satisfaction or disgust or much of anything. Meekly, he followed the General to the plush queen bed. Only when he got in beneath the covers and felt the man's warm, hard nakedness snuggle next to him did he feel an emotional release.
Jake Carrigan couldn't help himself, he began crying.
"That's OK, Jake," came the General's voice, surprisingly soft. It was the first time the man had used his servant's first name. "It'll be OK."
Jake got control of his emotions and his tears under control. He got the courage to look the General in the eyes. "Sorry, Sir."
There was some sympathy in the brown eyes that looked back at him. And in the smoothly weathered face. "Where are you from, Jake?"
"Centerville, Sir," came the response, naming his small town. He didn't provide the state but it probably didn't matter. "Feel like ages ago." It wasn't a complaint, just a reality.
The General pulled the Grunt closer and kissed him. Tongue and all. Jake's first kiss from a man.
Jake kissed back.
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