Raw Recruits Page 8

  A low porch connected the eight bunkhouse billets, which were spartan, just the beds and lockers resting on a roughly laid cement floor. Luke, Harry, Brad, and Jim took adjacent berths. Jimbo and Sam joined them. The air in the hut was stifling and it smelled of freshly sawn timber and paint.

  “Looks like they built this specially for us,” Luke said. “It certainly hasn’t been here very long.” He stripped off his T-shirt, unbuttoned the top of the tight bush shorts, and lay back on his bunk.

  “Did you notice something else?” Harry kept his voice low. “There are cameras everywhere. The one’s I’ve seen so far were on two trees just outside the compound and under the overhang of the roofs.”

  Luke thought about this for a while and then said, “That’s weird, cos there’s no way we’re getting off this island unless you can fly one of those jets, and I haven’t seen any boats yet. I wonder why all the security? They must be real paranoid.”

  Fifteen minutes later, as they crossed the square to the briefing hut, Harry pointed out the cameras, and looking around they found one on each corner of the huts. Luke spotted another one on the lookout tower. “S’funny,” he murmured, “they look pretty big professional jobs, not your usual closed-circuit stuff.”

  Jan and the sergeant were waiting for them, two large maps pinned on the wall behind them. The sergeant picked up a long pointer and turned to the charts.

  “On the surface, your job here is relatively simple … but not easy. This island is the property of your boss, Mr. Bruno Ström. Herr Ström considers that the island just to the north of here, which we flew over on our descent, is also his since it lies within his territorial waters. That island is presently and illegally occupied by an old adversary of Mr. Ström’s. Our job is to gain—in fact I should say to re gain—possession of Mr. Ström’s property. However the occupant of that island has somehow learned of Mr. Ström’s intentions and has assembled his own group of mercenaries.”

  Luke didn’t like the sergeant’s teeth-bared smile.

  “You can expect to fight hard to take the target.”

  No one said a word, and the sergeant let the silence linger for long seconds before slapping his hands together behind his back.

  “I’ve scheduled the assault four nights from now when there will be a full moon. Beginning at dawn tomorrow morning you start intensive training to bring you back to fighting pitch. And gentlemen, you must take that island to earn your bonus.”

  A hand went up. “We were told that we would be here for several weeks. This means we earn less bread than you promised.”

  “That’s regrettable, but Mr. Ström has grown impatient to regain his island, especially since the enemy forces were strengthened. Under the circumstances, he has promised an additional bonus if you can take the island without destruction of property. A bonus that is, for those of you who are still alive, of course.”

  He treated the gathering to another unpleasant smile.

  Then Jan took over to describe the terrain over which they would have to fight and the strength of the opposition. Luke listened with interest but somewhere at the back of his mind alarm bells were ringing and he couldn’t decide why. He asked a question.

  “Why are we going in with a full moon?”

  Jan turned his flinty gaze on Luke. “At least one of you is perceptive. The enemy has spotlights along the fringes of the surrounding mangrove swaps to the east and west, and along the thicker inland jungle. However, close observation has shown that they only have a quarter of them on over the three days of a full moon, presumably to save on costly electricity generation. Those covering the beach are usually all off because he believes we wouldn’t be so stupid as to attack in bright moonlight. Therefore, a night of full moon is our best advantage of surprise.”

  Luke had to admit that as a strategy it was perverse enough to stand a chance of succeeding, but he couldn’t get over that nagging feeling. Four days isn’t enough to get a team like this integrated for a dangerous mission…

  “Supper’s at eighteen-hundred. Get a good night’s rest, ready for an early start.”

  * * *

  Luke was determined to have himself a swim in the lagoon before he even thought about turning in. After supper he went back to the bunkhouse for a while to let the food digest. At about nine o’clock he decided to head for the beach. Harry was dozing, and the others were out for a stroll, so he set off through the trees on his own.

  The night was deliciously warm and filled with the shirring of crickets, the croaks of bull-frogs attracting mates, and the dozen other mysterious sounds that fill a tropical night. The sand was still hot and slid sensually between his bare toes. He felt good, flexed his muscles and stretched his body in the velvet night. He began to jog, eager to reach the beach, and a few moments later burst from the tree line onto the wide sandy stretch.

  The three-quarter moon almost overhead glittered on the water and made phosphorescent lines of the waves breaking on the distant reef that protected the lagoon. Their power reduced by the coral rampart, the light waves hissed gently as they encountered the beach. Quickly he unbuttoned his khaki shorts, kicked them off, and raced for the water.

  The lagoon, though cooler than the night air, was still warm and he splashed only a few steps in before diving lithely beneath the surface. He rose and swam powerfully out into the lagoon, enjoying the glide of the water down his body and feeling it push against his cock and balls and swirl in and out of his crack. And sleepy Harry was missing all of this.

  He free-stroked in a broad semi-circle until he began to tire and then cut in for the beach again. His skin tingled pleasurably in the light, warm breeze as he lay spread-eagled on his back at the surf line. The water swooshed up between his thighs and out again, lapping at his balls. The sound and feel of the wavelets made him want to piss suddenly, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up and let the warm stream spray over his abdomen and trickle down into his groin. He rolled over onto his stomach and over again onto his back, laughing to himself as the sand washed off with the ripples that swept past him.

  Perhaps it was the sound of the surf or his own inattention to the noises of the night as he reveled in the feel of his body, but he never heard the footsteps approaching. A heavy body fell over him, crotch into his face, and a big mouth swallowed his cock and sucked his stiff shaft relentlessly. The cock smothering his face, though still limp was very long and fat. When Luke had overcome his shock he realized there were only two pricks on the island that big, and with that familiar animal smell on its balls it could only be….

  “Jimbo you bastard, get offa me.”

  The sucking paused as the Jamaican lifted his mouth. “No fucking chance cock-teaser. I said I’d take you and I can’t wait for no fucking oil. You gonna get it the hard way, boy.”

  He picked himself up off Luke then grabbed hold of him, slung him over his shoulder, and ran out into the lagoon with him. A few yards out he threw Luke with a smack into the sea and charged after him. He bent down to haul Luke out of the water, but Luke was ready for him this time and grabbed him around the neck and pulled Jimbo down into the lapping waves with him.

  They wrestled together in the shallows each trying to get a hold on the other. Jimbo’s massive dick was stiff as a ramrod now and he kept thrusting it between Luke’s thighs, wrapping his thick, muscled arms around his body. Luke tried grabbing handfuls of big Jamaican ass , raking deep with his fingernails, but this only made Jimbo wilder for him.

  Luke felt himself being heaved out of the water and carried up the beach. He remembered the rampant reaming that Sam had gotten the night before and he knew that he too wanted that cock filling his ass. Jimbo dropped him face down on the sand.

  “Crawl you shithead, crawl for it.”

  Luke was hot for him now and raised himself to his knees and began to scrabble up the beach, his asshole flexing at the thought of that black weapon hunting for him. Then the black guy was on him, gripping his hips. But Jimbo didn’t stick him as qu
ickly as he expected, instead doing him slowly, sliding in inch after inch, grinding up his chute.

  “You like it stud? You like my big fuckin black meat. Huh? You want the rest of it? You gonna scream as I fuck your hot, tight ass?”

  “Fuck me, you bastard. I want every fornicating inch of that gut-ripping cock up my ass, every fucking inch, all the way, hot and hard!”

  Jimbo withdrew until the throbbing cock head was almost past Luke’s sphincter and then pulled Luke savagely down on him and the giant weapon shoved up far inside him. Nobody had ever gone so deep in him before. Luke’s mouth opened in a wide O and his eyes bulged as a strangled cry bubbled in this throat. Jimbo had whacked his prostate and now waggled himself hard against it.

  Jimbo fucked slowly at first. He had such powerful ribs of cock meat that he was able to jerk the whole length of the shaft up and down inside Luke. Each time he did this it pressed Luke’s prostate again and sent waves of fire up his torso and along his cock. Jimbo sped up his powerful thrusts into a deep, strong rut, and at the same time began to jack Luke.

  “I’m coming white ass, I’m coming, here it … comes!”

  With a final savage thrust he buried his spitting cock head the size of a small apple far up inside Luke’s hot slippery ass and unloaded his balls in a series of wracking spasms. Luke erupted at the same time and filled Jimbo’s hand with foaming cum.

  They collapsed together on the sand and lay there for long minutes and let the surf cool their sweaty bodies. Jimbo slowly withdrew his detumescing but still formidable cock from the depths of Luke’s ass. He staggered to a crouch on shaky tree-trunk legs and hovered, half bent, over Luke’s thrown-back head. He snorted, a low growling laugh as he reached a hand down.

  “Come on, you beautiful fuck, let’s go wash off.”

  They swam for a while in the lagoon, then Luke collected his pants and they headed back for the compound. Jimbo picked his own kit up off the sand at the point where it mixed with the scrubby wild grass. The path was different to the one that Luke had taken for the beach and he saw that they would pass close to the fenced off building at the rear of the compound.

  “Ah guess that’s the mysterious Herr Ström’s house,” Jimbo rumbled in his deep bass voice.

  It was clearly a wealthy set-up, mostly hidden from view behind luxurious planting and varied types of palm tree, some of them hardly native to the Caribbean, Luke thought.

  As they drew nearer Luke made out an exotic Mexican-style hacienda through a gap in the trees. Lights haloed above a head-high wall surrounding a courtyard and they could hear the sound of drumming. For a moment Luke thought Jimbo had trodden on a thorn or something, he stopped so suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath.

  “What in hell…? Hey man, those are voodoo drums. What the fuck’s going on?”

  The Jamaican’s eyes were wide open, the whites glinting yellow in the reflected light. As they listened, the drums rose in pitch and intensity, an unearthly and primitive sound. Then they stopped abruptly. After a second or two of silence there was a ghastly scream that seemed to go on for ever and then ended in a horrible gurgling noise.

  Luke and Jimbo stood rooted to the spot filled with dread. After a stunned moment’s silence Luke said hoarsely, “Come on, let’s git. I have a feeling we shouldn’t let anyone find us here.”

  “You’re right, man. Let’s get outta here.”

  They slunk back into the shadows away from the fenced area and then turned to race back toward the compound. Luke’s heart thumped against his rib cage. Just before they reached the brightly lit square Luke thought of the cameras and held out a restraining hand. “Slow down, Jimbo, walk slowly, as though nothing’s happened.”

  “We can’t pretend nothing happened, man. A guy was killed back there.” Jimbo pointed out.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “C’mon, Ah knows what Ah heard!”

  “Leave it for the morning, Jimbo, we don’t want to scare the others till we know what’s going on around here.”

  Jimbo reluctantly agreed and they walked casually into the bunkhouse. Fortunately everyone seemed to be asleep and they slipped into their beds. Luke lay awake for a long while before he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Training and Punishment

  At five o’clock the next morning, the bunkhouse door was thrown open with a bang as it bounced back off the wall, and the sergeant walked in bareback naked.

  “Wake up you bastards! I want you on parade in fifteen minutes! Short pants and boots only.”

  They heard the door of the next room along slam hard enough to shake the thin partition wall. A moment later Luke saw him drag a bleary-eyed, brawny, blond-haired recruit along the common porch.” I’ll have your ass this morning big boy.” He hustled him half-asleep down onto the parade ground.

  “He sure does like his breakfast screw,” Brad mumbled, a look of relief on his face.

  “So do I,” said Jim, leaping on top of Brad.

  They wrestled briefly together until Harry called out, “Come on you horny creeps. The sergeant won’t like it if you’re late.”

  They dressed and went out onto the square. The eastern sky showed a pale slip of light, hinting at the sun’s imminent rise. A few yards from the bunkhouse block the sergeant dog-fucked his chosen recruit, stopping every so often to make him crawl another couple of feet then ramming his cock back home again. He gave a final thrust, pulled himself free, and stood up.

  “Anybody else want it?” he asked the watching recruits.

  There were no offers even though a few tight shorts had more than their usual bulges showing, morning glories reawakened at the sight.

  He smirked. “Cocksuckers! More than a few of you are going to have their asses reamed before the end of the day. Okay, breakfast’s in one hour’s time. First you’re gonna warm up by jogging around the perimeter of the island. I won’t be going with you, but if any of you slacks or stops I’ll know it.”

  Luke wondered at this last threat. Is it possible they have cameras all over the island?

  “Right, fuck off.”

  The air was still cool as they began the run and Luke felt invigorated. As they jogged up the east side of the island the sun rose in a flaming nimbus on the sea’s horizon, turning the water to liquid gold. Luke felt the first rays strike his body and caress his skin. It wasn’t long before he began to work up a sweat and it dripped off his face to trickle down between his heaving pecs. The front of his shorts were soon dark with the accumulated perspiration.

  He and Harry were well up with the leaders, with Brad and Jim not far behind. As they ran along the shore at the edge of the jungle, he scanned the trees looking for hidden cameras. He didn’t spot any but he felt sure they were there.

  They rounded the island’s northern tip and headed down the long curve of sand that bordered the lagoon. On this side the soft sand made running that much harder. Some of the recruits who had set off too fast at the start were beginning to fall back. Luke looked over his shoulder and saw the British guy Alan stumble and fall. Instead of getting up straight away he lay there for a few seconds before another stopped by him and said something urgently. Alan struggled to his feet and the two men continued on together.

  Apart from wading through the loose sand in the last quarter, the run had been easy for most of the recruits and they arrived back at the compound in good shape, flopping down in the square to catch a breath and rest up. As the last of the runners came in, the sergeant appeared from the direction of the hacienda. Two ebony giants, so deeply hued they glowed almost purple in color, accompanied walked at his side with the smooth grace of panthers on the prowl. They were naked except for cloth pouches that bulged enormously above massive, muscled thighs. Their oiled Herculean bodies shone in the sunlight, their veins stood out like whipcords on their bull-necks and arms. Yet despite their size they moved like panthers, sinuous and light-footed.

  “You!” the sergeant shouted, as he pointed
at Alan. “Up!”

  The Brit hunk didn’t look too cool about the command. There was a look of apprehension on his face as he slowly rose from the square’s compacted sand. The two black studs strode over and seized him. He was lifted bodily off the ground and carried to the center of the square. The sergeant carried some lengths of cord and four wooden pegs which he handed to the black men. They spread-eagled Alan in the sand, face down, and pegged him securely by his wrists and ankles.

  The sergeant produced a knife from his belt, slit the man’s bush shorts open and then ripped them apart to expose the globes of his trembling ass. The black guys removed their pouches and began stroking themselves until their frightening weapons, longer even than Jimbo’s, stood rigid in front of them. One of them sat down on Alan’s shoulders and began to stroke himself slowly as he watched his partner prepare for the assault on the vulnerable young ass, so very pale against the raven flesh of his captors.

  The second stud appeared to go into some kind of trance, with his curly-cropped head thrown back and his hips thrust forward. His magnificent muscles undulated massively as he flexed them. He grasped his meat along its length with both hands, the glans—shockingly pink compared to the rest of him—flared as he pulled his generous foreskin back. He began to gyrate his hips, pumping his cock slowly. He arched further backward on deeply bent knees until his upper torso was almost horizontal. He balanced himself on his heels. His meat stuck up vertically into the air, thick and threatening. The onlookers could see clear fluid oozing thickly from the slit. He extended a forefinger, almost as if it were part of a ritual and began to spread it over his shining cock head.