Looking at these images, you can almost hear the captive military prisoner scream as his sadistic captors crank up the juice connected to his ’nads.
These “military torture” images are by the erotic artist Sparkie Shock. This artwork is shared here with the permission of the artist. You can learn much more about Sparkie Shock and support him at his Patreon page.
Meet Master Marc. He viciously pounds a feeble faggot recruit’s mouth and anus. The powerful Master humiliates the runt and does as he wishes with the fag’s body and arsehole!
See more at Brutal Tops
Here are more images depicting military POW-style torture, from the erotic artist Sparkie Shock:
These images, called “The Tease” and shared here with the permission of the artist, are part of a new comic series he is doing.
Support Sparkie Shock at his Patreon page
Our friend Cutieboy90 got into the Veterans Day spirit recently with some military-themed self-bondage! Check him out:
Also check out the many stories by Cutieboy90 by clicking here
By Mister-X/Spartan
I was never in the Marines, but I’ve always been fascinated by them. In particular, I love their uniforms and their discipline. I purchased various of their uniforms on e-Bay which I wear at home.
I also have been interested in being bound and dominated. It was at the local bondage club that I met Jerry. He had been a Marine drill sergeant, and liked topping guys, as well as reliving his drill sergeant days. I invited him to come to my home on weekends to relive his favorite times. He was only too happy to do so.
Sometimes others with my desires would join us, and sometimes some of his Marine buddies would join us as well. He always wanted me to dress in my Marine uniforms at home, uniforms I had to keep in spotless condition, standing at attention for his arrival, saluting him when we would meet. He would, of course, inspect me and start yelling orders into my ear. I wasn’t allowed to relax from attention until he told me to. Any shortcomings, real or imagined, would be punishable by bondage. This suited both of our desires.
Some pictures from the vault:
By Tommy Guns
A few hours after my young Corporal left, I again heard footsteps coming down the passageway. The key went in the cell door, and it was opened by the Brig Commander. I jumped to my feet and stood at attention, but he told me to sit back down again and relax. He pulled out his pack of Camels again and offered me one. I couldn’t take one since my wrists were still shackled to my waist, so he unlocked my cuffs and lit my cigarette with his Zippo. He then told me that he had made some phone calls about my case, and that he thought I might be released back into the custody of the Special Rehab Unit.
It seems that the SP, whose nose I had apparently broken, had been counseled by some of my fellow rehabbers, and had wisely decided that it was all a big misunderstanding and he did not want to pursue any charges. That effectively knocked out both the assault and resisting arrest charges. All that was left was the catchall charge of conduct contrary to good order and discipline, the one they use when they just want to fuck with you and can’t figure out how else to do it. It could still spell the end of my career, but the likelihood of a long stint in Portsmouth Prison was effectively gone.
