By Alex Ironrod
It was not a good night’s rest; the hog-ties prevented that, but finally they both slept, exhausted from the day’s torments.
It was evidently morning when they were kicked awake by a group of warriors and their rawhide ties removed. There was no sign of Red Feather, but the interpreter was there to explain: “You will be taken out and purged, then taken to the stream for washing and cleansing. You must be prepared for this evening’s ceremony when the chief will fuck each of you in front of our community to show your slave position as his new squaw men. Now to work.”
They were taken outside again, loosely tied, and led to the sewage pits. Here they were forced to bend over, Tom’s plug was pulled out, and the nozzle of pig’s bladders pushed into their holes. The bladders were emptied into them until the interpreter was satisfied as he patted their stomachs. After ten minutes they could hold it no more, and a mix of soapy water, their own shit and the cum of the previous night poured out of them trickling down their bare legs. Three times they were forced to be filled and emptied.
Then the interpreter was satisfied and the prisoners were led to the stream that flowed through one end of the village. They tugged their boots off and jumped into the water. It was cold and they had no soap, but the water felt wonderful after two days of dirt and grime. At first they worked separately, then the lieutenant came over to check the sergeant’s shoulder and to remove the last of the thorns from his back. Bright returned the favor, and they began to play in the water, forgetting for the moment the rawhide hanging from their wrists and the Indians on the bank.
But the warriors did not forget them. After allowing the soldiers to splash around in the soothing water, they pulled them out and led them back through the village, now also roped around the neck. The men stared at them, or spat at the ground, while the women ignored them. Tom had his first chance to look around and saw the corral off to one side, full of ponies grazing and playing.
“So the path at this end near the mountain track is the only way out,” he thought. “A fast pony might make it with a quick getaway.”
Then they were jerked back to the chief’s tepee. A thick wooden frame had been erected to hold two men. But first the interpreter started covering them with a herb-scented oil, smearing it into Tom from head to just above his rebooted feet, paying particular attention to his genitals. Another man was doing the same to the sergeant, who was enjoying the attention, if his erecting cock was any indication. It soothed Tom’s body, making him feel alive again, and he only groaned when the man took out an even larger plug with a horse tail attached, and with difficulty gradually worked it into his hole.
He only howled when the Apache reached to pull down and separate his balls, tying them off with rawhide, which he went on to wrap around his growing prick. Further groans showed the sergeant was undergoing the same treatment. Then he was led to the frame and tightly spread-eagled within it – the arms fully stretched and legs pulled wide and the rawhide had no give.
Finally the interpreter reached up and wound bands of rawhide around his eyes, blinding him completely. Tom couldn’t even struggle, the bondage was so tight, but his dick was responding excitedly. Even more exciting was the presence of another man tight against him – the sergeant was being forced into place, with their pricks pushed up against their stomachs and beginning to leak pre-cum. Spaulding could feel Bright’s breath against his cheek and Billy’s thick brush of chest hair against his own dark pelt. They could feel each other more intensely, but could see nothing. He heard the Indians leaving quietly, and the two men hung together waiting.
“I think we’re alone, Billy. Can you talk to me? Can you see me?”
“No, I can’t see anything, but I think I can reach down easily to kiss you.”
“Shit, that feels good – and I want more – I need your tongue in my mouth. This is all we can do together to show how we feel – able to just touch and able to do so little to show our real physical feelings.”
“Sir, Tom, you sure taste good, and your prick feels even better down there, juicing mine.”
“I think there’s some kind of aphrodisiac in this oil that’s turning us on, but we can’t do anything about it – and I’m glad. This thicker plug keeps hitting my sphincter muscle, and that tail brushes my ass cheeks, which makes my cock jump even harder.”
“They want to get us fully excited before we become this evening’s main attraction. We might as well enjoy ourselves while we wait. With your permission, Sir, I’m going to fuck your mouth, rub up against you and push my pole onto yours.”
“Go ahead, sergeant. I’d say we deserve it.”
And so they made love together, sliding in and out of each other’s mouths, trying to rub their bodies against one another, enjoying their pricks playing and leaking together. After all their torments, it was soothing and relaxing, yet exciting and invigorating.
“When we escape, and we will escape,” murmured Tom, “I’ve seen the horse remuda, and we could steal a couple of mounts. I want us to be together.”
“If only one of us gets the opportunity to get out of here,” replied Billy, “I want you to take it. You’re much the better horseman, and, frankly the chief seems more interested in me for his stud-squaw. Maybe I can keep him distracted long enough for you to make a break for it.”
“Not without you, Billy.”
“Be quiet, I think there’s someone in the tepee listening to us.”
And the sergeant was right. There was a sudden movement and Tom felt Bright being unbound and dragged away. There was a rapid succession of grunts and groans of pleasure pain. The rawhide was unwrapped from Spaulding’s eyes and he was surprised to see the chief grappling with the still tied and blind sergeant, whose nips and cock were being forcefully manipulated, and whose head was tossing from side to side as he growled and grunted with excitement.
Red Feather seized his hair and thrust his tongue fully into Bright’s mouth, fully as excited and aroused as his prisoner. The two hung together, panting in lust, bodies grinding against one another. Then the Apache broke off and turned to Tom.
The lieutenant was teased and turned on too, the chief seizing his body and twisting his nips hard and vigorously. He pulled the right one by its brown tip and suddenly forced a clamp onto it, while Spaulding gasped; the right was similarly clamped with a horsehair chain forcing them together. Then the chief took a pot of oil and began to paint the soldier’s face, tits and genitals with the warm aphrodisiac. Tom began to pant, cock fully erect, lusting for the chief who was applying some oil to his own cock and balls and the rest of his body.
Red Feather moved behind the lieutenant still tightly bound in the frame and pulled out the horsehair tail plug, applying oil liberally to the leather before ramming it hard back into its hole again. Spaulding moaned, on fire and sweating, the sacrificial victim waiting to be taken, as a small bell was strapped to his rigid rod, which rang at every motion of his quivering cock. Finally, his tongue was pulled forward and looped round it was a hackamore rope, the typical Indian horse bridle, with reins attached. He had been prepared for initiation, for whatever ceremony the chief had prepared.
At a signal, his frame was raised by a group of warriors; Red Feather checked that the bells and tails now in both men were fully in place, picked up and jerked the reins dangling from Tom’s mouth and the procession left the tepee, marching through the village as the sun was slowly sinking towards the hills. Spaulding felt fully exposed, yet fully excited as he was marched through the village and watched by the chanting Indians. His gaping mouth was gagged with the hackamore, his chest hurt from the clamps tugging at his enflamed nips, his dick was belled with a constant ring and leaked its precum steadily, and the plug and tail jolted him at almost every step.
“Courage, Tom, remember who and what you are,” called out Billy. He could feel the sergeant being carried behind him, but couldn’t turn round to see him.
In the center of the village stood a raised platform of wood and leather in the shape of a horse. Spaulding was unbound from the frame and stretched over the platform, which forced his ass higher into the air and his belled cock under his thighs. His legs were wrenched apart again and anchored to rings on the post and his arms were stretched over his head and similarly restrained. The hackamore reins were jerked back, and he looked up. There directly in front of him was Bright bound to a separate frame, with his rawhide blindfold still in place. He too glittered with oil, and the constantly ringing cock bell showed his excitement.
Then Red Feather appeared, now fully naked and oiled, prick up and erect, with the glint of a drop of precum at its tip. He moved close to his helpless prisoner, waving his penis in Tom’s face, smearing his cheeks with precum, and then laying his cock-head on the top of the tongue bound with the hackamore rope. He barked a command; Tom realized he was supposed to lick the twitching head and he tried his best to add some saliva as he received some drops of precum. The chanting reached a climax.
The chief grunted, withdrew his dick and slapped the tortured mouth hard. Then he moved out of sight, and Spaulding felt the plug being pulled from his now well-used hole. For a moment or two he felt empty until he felt the moist head demanding entry. It slid in much more easily- the hole had been kept stretched and well-oiled, but the chief was big and thick and the soldier shuddered as he was gradually penetrated inch by inch. Then the hackamore reins were gathered up, his head was jerked up and two more inches of the massive cock forced their way up his narrow passage.
Red Feather chanted and shouted until he was fully home. Tom grunted and snorted in response, pain, excitement and increasing pleasure kept his body tingling and sweating. He felt the chief pulling out until only the head remained in him and then shoving fully back up the chute. The cock turned and twisted, enflaming his innards and he began to push back in response, as the excitement and pleasure grew. He felt the chief jerk on the reins in one hand and pull on the horsehair chain, agitating his clamped tits. His body rose in response, as the chief plunged in once more; his own cock rang its bell and leaked yet more precum onto his stomach; his voice through the rope gag echoed the shouts and grunts of the chief whose body was now pressing into his. Their oiled torsos slid across one another, as master and victim thrust at one another in lust, wanting more.
Red Feather increased the pace, his well-oiled pole rising and sinking more rapidly, and his breathing rasping and quickening as the excitement intensified between the two men.
Tom felt completely filled and mastered, responding to the chief’s moves as much as his bound body would allow, head in the air, gazing at the taut musculature of the panting and straining sergeant bound in front of him.
The Apache approached his climax, balls slamming against the lieutenant’s ass cheeks, sweat dripping and mixing with that of his prisoner, and his voice hurling his mastery and pleasure to the open skies. Finally, with a full final thrust, his man-seed poured up Spaulding’s passage, and, in return, he half-rose and his cock released a full stream of hot jism onto his chest.
Both men lay there, joined together fully and panting from exhaustion. Finally the chief pulled out, slapped the lieutenant’s ass, pushing back in the horse-tail plug and ordered him released. Warriors pulled him off the platform, and he collapsed in the dirt.
Red Feather marched around, receiving praise from his men, but silence from the women, and drinking from a cup of some strong brew, which seemed to give new life to his cock. Spaulding was pushed aside into the crowd, as the sergeant was brought forward, tall, proud, still bound and blindfolded, with a prick that was quivering with excitement, and a ringing bell.
The chief grasped him fiercely, working their dicks together and then demanding in Spanish that Bright get down on his knees and worship the waving, dripping rod. Bright hesitated; he couldn’t see where he was to go until warriors forced him down and he could feel the chief’s body. He willingly took the pole, swallowing it expertly in his mouth, and obviously enjoying the taste. When Red Feather was satisfied, he pulled out and had the sergeant’s mouth waded with leather and then bound shut. Bright’s face became a series of rawhide strips with only the nose to breathe through.
Spaulding shrank back into the crowd who were pressing more closely and watched as Billy was laid on the platform, but on his back, legs and arms draped to the sides. Suddenly the chief started lashing him with his quirt, focusing on the broad chest and tenderized nipples, then moving down to the inner thighs, the bound balls and finally the great hairy bouncing cock. Bright was clearly in pain, his body arching and groans escaping through the heavy gag. Then the chief clamped the beaten and enflamed tits, and the body visibly jumped in torment. He took a much longer horsehair chain, wove it round the reddened but still vibrating penis and pulled it up to the nipple clamps, so that he was painfully connected. The sergeant’s large body was then pulled up, with grunts from the prisoner, turned over and roped down fully, cock squeezed up and under, ass in the air, ready to be impaled.
Spaulding had had enough; he didn’t want to see his comrade brutally fucked and he realized no one was paying any attention to him. The crowd was focused on the men on the platform, as he worked his way backwards. He released the clamps carefully, gritting his teeth, pulled out the ass plug and undid the hackamore bit and reins in his mouth, but held on to them. He had a use for them.
He walked slowly towards the horses, not wanting to draw attention to himself or to disturb the animals. He was in luck – there was a saddle blanket on the rails. He moved quickly and quietly into the corral, focusing on a strong, but docile looking gray gelding. He was able to put on the hackamore and blanket, and to lead the horse to the gate at the far end.
They slipped out without too much trouble, as the crowd was building up to the climax of its chanting. He could hear the chief howling as he was fucking the sergeant, and shuddered as cold cum trickled out of his own abused hole. But he knew he had little time, so he leapt onto the gelding, hoping to find the path down the mountain, as the rays of the sun started to sink beneath the rocky hillside.
He was soon on his way, loping as fast as he could, with the air cooling his naked body. He didn’t remember how far he had to go down the mountain road, but hoped to reach the telegraph poles before it was fully dark and relying on his sure-footed mount. He heard the faint echo of a final chant of triumph from the camp, and knew his comrade and friend was now fully mounted on Red Feather’s pole.
He hoped Bright was getting some pleasure from it and sent up a silent prayer that the sergeant would not be too abused by Red Feather and his warriors when his own flight was discovered.
Lieutenant Tom Spaulding rode back towards the fort and his civilization, a different man from the soldier who had left so innocently a few days ago. His violated ass could still feel the power of Red Feather’s prick, and his cock rose from the pleasure and pain of the tortures he had endured. What would he find to replace them at the fort, and how could he rescue Sergeant Bright? Or would Billy be happier serving as stud squaw to Red Feather? The two seemed to be developing a strong if dangerous relationship. He sighed as he saw the dim outline of a telegraph pole. He’d think about his problems tomorrow, as he urged the horse forward towards an uncertain future.
Copyright © 2021 by Alex Ironrod, alex-ironrod.com. All rights reserved. Posted here with permission of the author.
The SEQUEL NOVEL
NEVER PUBLISHED BEFORE
“RED FEATHER & THE SERGEANT”
By ALEX IRONROD