Tiny Soldier Figure
Max Hollins' military uniform was littered with medals, but it was spread out on the filthy concrete floor. Max wasn't in much better shape, standing bound to an x-frame on the other side of the cellar. And he was naked. His erect penis was exposed and dripping with pre-cum.
The 6-foot-tall, 158-pound, muscle-bound soldier who'd battled a hundred times trembled and panted, drenched in sweat and on the verge of tears. His body had been fully aroused, but his mind remained repulsed and turned off. This didn't matter, though.
"Please..." he pleaded, writhing from side to side, his hard penis swaying with him. Max's voice was filled with desperation, with self-loathing and confusion. He didn't want this, but he needed it to end.
"Please."
The woman in front of him grinned. She was dressed as an everyday suburban civilian, but she extended a finger and ran it teasingly up the underside of Max's penis, from just in front of his balls to the hypersensitive bundle of nerves just under the head. Max grunted sharply, then groaned deeply, trembling and thrusting his penis forward, panting more loudly than ever.
Laughing, the woman made a circle with her pointer finger and thumb, and she stroked slowly down and then back up, and Max cried out, his voice pitching several uncomfortable octaves higher. But he didn't seem to care.
"Oh, oh! Oh god, oh god, oh god..." he moaned, sounding confused and distraught.
"Do you want to come?" the woman whispered in his ear, leaning forward so that her low-cut shirt fell, exposing her modest yet alluring cleavage, so that Max got a faceful of it.
"Yes, yes!" he sobbed, tears filling his eyes now. "Oh god, please, yes. I can't take it anymore. I can't! You're killing me!"
"Killing you?" she chuckled, leaning away with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I mean, aren't you having fun at all, mister soldier guy?"
Max looked into her eyes, his expression a mix of anguish, fear of saying the wrong thing, and a stupor that kept him from coming up with the right thing to appease her.
The woman, a glint in her eye, stroked Max again, and he whimpered and shook, stamping the floor with a bare foot.
"I'll let you come on one condition," she said. "You must defeat my friend, Brutus. If you fail, I'll have to chain you back up and leave you here to think deeply and painfully about your failure."
Max nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, I understand."
"Good," she said, releasing him from the x-frame and leading him out of it. He stumbled but managed to keep himself upright. She giggled.
"Good luck, little soldier guy." And with that, she left the room.
Max tried to rub his tender wrists but couldn't do anything but stand there, hunched over, numb and trembling all over, his throbbing cock aching for relief. The door opened seconds later. A man about an inch taller than him walked in, dressed like a biker. It was Brutus.
"W-wait..." Max gasped, a sudden surge of fear in his heart. He raised his hand, hoping it would be seen as a calming gesture.
It wasn't enough. Brutus stopped an arm's length away from him, grinning menacingly. Without further ado, he punched Max hard in the stomach.
"Blurgh!" Max exclaimed, who had tensed his abdominal muscles instinctively, but still found himself lifted onto his tip-toes, his wide eyes bugged out, his lips parted to expel a big gust of air. His knees almost buckled, but before he could crumple to the floor, Brutus pushed him into the x-frame. With one hand, he began to tenderly, almost gently, fondling Max's abused abs and his throbbing penis.
The initial cry of disgust and perverted desire vanished, and Max's needy sobs turned into tortured whimpers. "No, no, please. Not like this. I beg you!"
Brutus merely chuckled, a deep, throaty sound coming from inside his chest, and stroked Max more forcefully and relentlessly, punching Max's abs over and over again with moderate force, causing his cheeks to flush with a mix of shame and pain, manipulating him mentally and physically to a complete breakdown. He controlled him with pain and pleasure, breaking him down and transforming him into nothing more than a fleshly plaything for depravity.
In the dimly lit room, Brutus' gigantic hands wrapped around Max's considerable cock, massaging it diligently. He rubbed the head, stroked the shaft, and twisted it from top to bottom. As he did this, he also took care to caress the sensitive balls and tip while Max's chest heaved and his toes curled.
"Did you enjoy it when I punched your hollow abs?" Brutus teased, chuckling to himself.
Max could only nod softly, his muscles flexing even as his mind struggled to process everything that was happening. Brutus' powerful fist moved in and out deep within him, leaving Max feeling more filthy than ever before. He could feel his knees weakening.
"Hahaha!" Brutus roared, hoisting Max to his feet with a firm grip on his chin. "Those muscles of yours are just a show. Pathetic, isn't it?"
Max's face crumpled up in tears, but his erection remained rock hard.
As the woman re-entered the room, she headed right up to Max and Brutus, laughing again. "Check out what's going on here." She played with Max's nipples as Brutus continued to milk his massive cock.
"Oh god," Max muttered faintly. "I'm about to...I'm going to...OH!"
Merely two seconds later, Max climaxed. He cried out, his entire body heaving, spewing long streams of hot, thick cum all over himself. Once the orgasm subsided, he was given permission to collapse onto his side, his head pressed into his chest, his face burning with embarrassment and guilt.
"Well," the woman said, turning to Brutus. "This operation is over, isn't it, Brutus? Do you think our subject has learned his lesson?"
Brutus granted and nodded, sneering. "I certainly hope so."
Smiling, the woman exited the room, Brutus following close behind, leaving Max to wallow in a puddle of his own cum and tears.
After what might as well have been hours, Max was finally able to gather the strength to rise from the floor. He slowly put his uniform back on and trudged through the kitchen and out the front door, out into the cold night air. But not before leaving cash on the coffee table as a fee.
The walk back to the military base was one of long, heavy silence.
Read also:
- Yes, Darling
- Death's Angel, Part 4:
- Incident: Chapter 2
- A Never-ending Contest: Volume 1, Chapters 16-25
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