A Weekend Invitation 3

Author: prisonerx
Title: A Weekend Invitation 3
Date: 10 August 2008

Thinking back on it, it was probably only fifteen minutes before the guards returned but at the time it seemed like fifteen hours. The pain in my tits was constant and any slight movement by me causing my suspended body to swing even a little reinforced the burning sensation across my chest. To my relief I was slowly lowered to the floor and pulled to my feet by two of the guards. As I caught my breath, one of them asked me if I was now ready to tell them what they wished to know. I nodded vigorously as although I had no idea what they were talking about I wanted to get the muzzle gag removed so I could tell them that this was all a mistake. More then that, I wanted the clamps removed from my burnings tits. Almost as if he could read my mind, the guard swiftly pulled the clamps off causing me to scream into my gag as the blood rushing back into my tits caused me a short but severe pain. The muzzle gag was then removed and the guard said, “ok, let’s hear it, what can you tell us”. “You don’t understand”, I blurted out, “you have made some mistake, you have got it wrong. I can’t tell you anything about anything concerning your war game. I would if I could, you have to believe me. You have made a mistake!” “Listen faggot, I wasn’t born yesterday,” replied the guard, “ten years in army intelligence has taught me a lot about dealing with undercover agents like you. Your protests don’t impress me at all or any of my colleagues. It may take a little time yet, but I assure you, we will find out from you exactly what we want to know. We intend to win this war game and no little pervy faggot like you will stop us! Your choice, spill the beans now and you will be sent on your way, otherwise be prepared to suffer the consequences. We have time on our side and all day to, let’s say, persuade you otherwise,” he said with a hint of menace in his voice.

I felt my heart thumping as I realised the position I was in. I really had no idea who these people were other than knowing they were part of this war game exercise in which Nick and Mark were involved. I just wanted to get out of this place and head back for the safety of home. Even my dick was now soft in its caged prison. “Please, please,” I begged, “I am telling you the truth. I know nothing of any war game; I’m not a member of the Territorials or any other branch of the military. I demand that you let me go!” “Shut up, faggot!” the guard shouted, “we searched through your wallet. We know your name, age, and occupation. We also know that David Baker, (that is your name, isn’t it?), is part of intelligence for the green army. So why keep up the pretence?” “That’s not true”, I shouted back beginning to get annoyed. “You’ve got it so wrong”. “Have it your own way, faggot, I cannot waste any more time on talk, we need to make some progress”. As he said that, the other guards grabbed me by the arms and led me outside.

There was a lot of activity going on with many guys in full combats engaged on various activities that I suppose is normal in any army camp. Once again a feeling of total humiliation came over me as several guys stopped to watch the spectacle as I was led stark naked but for the cb still locked in place on my cock and balls, towards what turned out to be the shower block. Although I was still trying to work out in my mind how I had got into this situation, I could not help but notice some of the fit looking guys taking a shower before kitting themselves out in their combats. And once again, I felt my cock beginning to swell in its plastic prison. My thoughts were interrupted by one of my guards telling me that I had five minutes to use the toilet if needed. I was grateful for that as I realised I badly needed to piss. As I stood at the urinal, a guard on either side watching me closely, a soldier buck-naked emerged from a nearby shower, carrying his clothes and then threw down his jockstrap in front of me. I was unable to avoid pissing on it as my bladder was in full flow. One of the guards said, “pick it up, prisoner!” I hesitated for a second and he shouted at me again, “I said pick it up, prisoner!” I reached down and picked up the piss soaked jockstrap wondering what I was supposed to do with it. I didn’t have long to find out as I was grabbed by two of the guards while the third one tried to force it into my mouth. I resisted keeping my mouth tightly shut. But one of them grabbed me by my balls causing me to shout out in pain and the jock was pushed into my open mouth. I tried to spit it out but my guards were quick to lock on the muzzle gag securing the soaking jock in place. I felt disgusted, but noticed that my cock swelling once more. In spite of my confusion and apprehension I had a desire to cum. But that, of course, was impossible.

Very quickly, demonstrating that they were well practised in this, my guards locked a steel collar around my neck. This was followed by shackles on my wrists, which were then secured, to a belt also locked around my waist. My boots and socks were pulled off and shackles locked to my ankles which were then connected by a short chain to the belt. The guards then led me out of the shower block towards a rectangular wooden structure a few metres away. It was surrounded on three sides by a wooden platform accessed by a set of steps.

As I shuffled up to this structure, the third guard, (that I had come to regard as the chief interrogator), went up to it and opened the front of it. I then saw there was a round hole in the top of it. I was pushed to the ground and ordered to crawl in. I had no alternative and as I crawled in, the guards began to close the front of it around me. The dimensions were such that I quickly realised I needed to position myself so my head protruded through the hole in the top. Padlocks secured the box shut and I found myself imprisoned in this box. While this was going on, many of the soldiers around the camp had gathered to watch. One of the guards then walked up the steps on to the platform. He knelt down so that he was level with my head, pulled a black spandex hood out of his pocket forced it over my muzzled and immobile head. I could no longer see anything and as I tried in vain to shout out I just felt a few drips from the piss soaked jock trickle down my throat. “Just a further softening up process, faggot”, said a voice I recognised as the chief interrogator, (chief tormentor more like!), a little more time to consider your situation. Hopefully you will agree to co-operate and no further, shall we say, persuasion, will be necessary. But don’t say you weren’t warned!” I shouted into my gag but my unintelligible mumblings were just greeted by laughter and shouts from the guys watching.

I tried to see if there was anyway I could break out of my restraints but I knew it was useless. My wrists were so closely chained to the belt around my waist, I could not even reach my now very hard, but imprisoned dick. I could only move my head a little but that was of no purpose. I sat there listening intently hoping to hear the familiar voice of Nick coming to my aid and explaining that there had been a mistake. “Where was he”, I thought, as time passed and I felt it getting warmer as the sun rose in the sky. All around me I could hear activity but see nothing. It continued to get warmer and I could feel sweat running down my chest and back, enclosed as they were in this box. My mouth began to dry out so I found myself sucking on the soldier’s jock soaked in my own piss. On the one hand, I felt disgusted and humiliated by this, but on the other, I was aware of my now extremely hard dick straining to break out of its plastic prison.

I realised I was feeling tired. The previous night had not been very restful and although unaware of the time, I thought I had been woken up very early. I began to nod off coming to every now and again. Suddenly I was aware of the sound of footsteps and could feel the vibration as somebody mounted the platform surrounding my prison. I heard voices, two maybe three I thought. “Bet it’s hot in there, pervy boy”, said a voice, “probably needs cooling down I reckon”, said another. “Well let’s see what we can do!” The next thing I was aware of was a warm wet stream hitting my hooded head. I realised these guys were pissing on me! My spandex hood quickly became soaked and I could feel rivulets of water running down my face and into the muzzle gag where it soaked into the now dry jock stuffed in my mouth. I tried to shake my head but my protest was only met by more abuse and laughter from the guys on the platform. After a few minutes they left, but soon afterwards the same thing happened again. Sometimes, it seemed to be a couple of guys, other times a lone visitor. My hood was now soaked and I could feel the piss dripping down through the hole in the box and on to my naked chained body. As the sun continued to climb in the sky, I began to sweat more and the perspiration on my body mixed with the piss that dripped down into the box from my now stinking hood.

Of course, there was nothing I could do to prevent all this. Nick’s words to me regarding the standard of drink available at the weekend now took on a completely and very different meaning! I was hating this or so it seemed initially. This was an entirely new experience for me as I have already said. It was never one that I had fantasised about or had considered for a moment but I realised strangely that although very apprehensive about what lay in store there was no ignoring the fact that I was sexually aroused by my situation.