How I bacame a tin-plated warrior, part 2

By Enchanted squaddie published July 9, 2016
Category: hypnosis   Tags: #uniform #hypnosis #military
Things worse after my failed attempt to escape

Corporal John Leyland reporting for duty. You may remember in part one I was dumped by my girlfriend, comforted and hypnotised by my Captain, then enrolled to a special training unit, I had a medical and then saw things I shouldn’t have seen, so I tried to escape, but things didn’t go quite to plan and I was trapped, captured and chloroformed by the military police. This section picks up where the story left off.

  1. Summary hearing by Commanding Officer

I open my eyes and it takes a minute or two for the room to come fully into focus. There’s a table ahead of me, three chairs lined up at it and in the centre is the officer I saw when they were fucking around with Steve. On one side of him there’s another slightly older officer, strong looking and clean-shaven, who I guess must be Colonel Kirkpatrick. And on the other the chaplain for the camp, dressed in his uniform, standard dress uniform apart from the black shirt and white cellulose dog-collar and the silver cross hanging round his neck, he gives me a broad smile which is comforting.

However I’ve been seated in some sort of throne-like chair, my wrists bound tightly to the arms and my ankles bound to the feet, so I’m helpless and can’t move. I try shifting around and the noise attracts the officer’s attention.

“Good evening,” he says, and despite everything he seems to be friendly enough, “I’m Colonel Mountstewart your commanding officer, this is Colonel Kirkpatrick the other senior officer in the camp, and finally the Rev Jeremy Finch who looks after our mortal souls.”

He stops and looks at me, I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. “Okay, so this is a summary hearing to discuss a number of complaints I’ve heard and a number of things you’ve been observed doing, JL1209MS, so we’re going to go through the charges and call witnesses in to confirm what’s been going on, do you understand? And the vicar here,” he nods at Finch, “will act as your advocate and make sure we do things by the book.”

I nod slowly. “There’s really nothing to worry about,” chips in the padre, “we’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

Again I nod.

Mountstewart shuffles his papers, “The charges are: insubordination, accessing a restricted area without the correct authorisation, theft, actual bodily harm and attempted desertion.”

The padre interrupts with a soft cough, “Ahem. Colonel Mountstewart, if my understanding of the Armed Forces Act is correct matters pertaining to desertion are out of the scope of a summary hearing and would entail a full court martial. Now none of us want to prolong the hearing, so could I suggest we commute the final charge to a lesser grade, such as attempting to leave without leave of absence, as otherwise any judgement might be deemed invalid and open to challenge.”

Mountstewart turns and gives the padre a withering look, holding his eye for a full minute, obviously unhappy with the interruption. But then he suddenly smiles and agrees to the lesser charge. One-nil to me and the padre.

“Let’s deal with the charge of insubordination. Call the first witness,” shouts Mountstewart.

  1. The first charge

The Welsh military policeman, walks in with the guy who had driven me to the camp in the morning.

The driver stands to attention and salutes Mountstewart the other Colonel sidles up beside him to place a pair of dark glasses over his eyes.

“You are Unit PH0505KP, right?” booms Mountstewart.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And this morning you were ordered to bring JL1209MS from Camp Richmond to join the experiment here weren’t you? Could you tell the court what happened next?”

“Well, Sir, I brought him here alright, but when we’d stopped in the compound and I got his kit out he tried to tell me I’d brought him to the wrong place.”

“What did you do next?”

“Sir, I had been given his trigger word by Captain Smith so I used it on the accused to make him obey me.”

Mountstewart smiles, “Good, that was the right thing to have done,” he turns to the chaplain, “Do you have any further questions?”

“Yes,” replies the padre, “I don’t think this charge is quite so clean-cut, could the prisoner’s actions not be as a result of a desire to join his new unit without delay? Surely all he was doing was checking that he’s been transported to the right place?”

“Sir, all I know is that I was following orders and he didn’t do what I told him,” replies the driver, “it’s not for me to decide what his motives were.”

They dismiss the driver and confer. Eventually the chaplain looks up and smiles at me, “The charge has been dropped, we’re going to move on to the charge of accessing a restricted area without authorisation.”

  1. The second charge

The MP fiddles with some cables to attach a projector to a monitor and suddenly CCTV footage of the courtyard appears. I watch myself trying to distract Steve Hartley and then watch as I peer over his shoulder as he entered the access code on the keypad. Moments later I reappear and calmly punch in the number and sneak inside.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” declares Mountstewart, there can’t be much doubt about that one.

“Excuse me,” interjects the padre, “are there are any signs on the door to indicate that the accused was entering a restricted facility.”

Mountstewart shows a bit of anger, “Don’t get me started, vicar, obviously the area is restricted or else it wouldn’t be protected by a keypad. That’s a bit like saying we should put up signs in the Heads telling the men not to crap on the floor.”

“Yes,” continues the chaplain, “I agree that the men should infer if a door is locked and protected by a keypad that they should only open it if they have been told to. But isn’t there a point here that everyone who knows the keypad number has a duty to keep it secure? I would see the fault as lying more with SH0706MS than the defendant before us.”

“No,” Mountstewart growls, “Unit SH0706MS was in his treatment cycle, he simply can’t be held responsible under the circumstances.”

They glower at each other, it’s Colonel Kirkpatrick who breaks the impasse, “Why don’t we call in the other unit and get his account of what happened?” He asks.

They call for Steve and moments later the MP leads him into the room and once again Kirkpatrick places dark glasses on his nose. He talks rapidly giving his account of our meeting and how I had hung around afterwards, my eyes wander up and down his body and I can’t help noticing that his cock is semi-hard and clearly outlined by a bulge in his fine cotton uniform trousers, and then I can’t help thinking back to when I was watching him being shafted and milked earlier in the afternoon. And I wonder if his cock is still slightly hard all these hours later from the treatment.

Mountstewart interrupts his account to ask him a bit about his treatment and whether he enjoyed it, “Yes, Sir, obedience is its own reward,” he replies and I can see his cock twitch when he says that at get slightly harder.

The MP marches Steve out of the room as the officers confer. The padre makes a pouting face at me, “I’m afraid we lost that charge, son. But not to worry it’s quite minor, and we’ll now move on to the charge of theft.”

  1. The third charge

They usher in my roommate, Unit HS0704KP, and this time it’s Mountstewart who slips the shades over the witness’s eyes.

Kirkpatrick questions the soldier, particularly interested in the point that I had tried on the glasses before my attempted escape. I watch him as he talks and I don’t know if my mind is playing tricks on me but I would swear that he’s getting turned on as he gives his account. I stare at his crotch, what is wrong with me today?

He’s burbling on, “And then as soon as I entered the billet, Sir, he came up to my side and whipped the glasses off my face to try them on,” the wretched Unit lies.

“No,” I cry out, incensed by the untruth.

My noise shocks the court and Mountstewart turns to me and asks angrily, “Who asked you to speak JL1209MS? We are questioning a witness, not asking for your account,” he nods at the MP, “gag him.”

The military policeman descends on me with a ball-gag he pinches my nose and as I open my mouth to breathe roughly forces it in place, strapping it tightly round my head.

They return to questioning Unit HS0704KP, and he continues with his mendacious account, he claims that he was only pretending to be asleep and had watched me as I got up, stealthily dressed and then pinched his precious shades.

“Why didn’t you raise the alarm?” asks the padre.

“It all happened so fast, Sir, and I was making my way to the guardroom when I heard the commotion outside.”

The padre nods and gives me a sobering look, this time they don’t even confer, they just announce that the charge of theft is upheld.

They dismiss the Unit and move onto the charges of Actual Bodily and attempting to leave the compound.

  1. The final charge

There are two witnesses this time, the sentry and the MP, both are sworn in and have glasses fitted to their faces.

The questioning lasts longer than with the previous witnesses as the charges are more serious and every gory detail of my ill-fated attempt to escape is described, checked and described again. I can tell things aren’t going well.

My judges examine the scrape on the sentry’s face, noting the damage and praising him for doing his best to stop me getting away. Praise is also heaped on the MP for detaining me and sitting on my chest.

I try to catch the padre’s eye, but he doesn’t look me in the face, instead he’s sitting there, arms folded and a grim frown on his face. When he talks it’s to the Colonel, “This all looks pretty damning but I think we need to review the evidence in greater detail and question the prisoner when we’ve done so.”

Mountstewart nods and calls out to the MP, “Take the prisoner away and get him ready for interrogation.”

The MP takes a bottle out of his pocket and tips some of its contents onto a rag and then walks over to me, “Easy, soldier,” he mutters as he undoes the ball-gag but then he presses the rag hard against my nose and mouth. I look up, my eyes swimming, he’s smiling down at me, “Sweet dreams, boyo,” he says and I see him blowing me a little kiss as darkness descends.

  1. They prepare me for interrogation

When you’re fucked stay fucked. It’s one of the first things you learn in the army. If you get captured it’s no time for heroics, relax go quietly, don’t let your stress levels show, remember your basic training.

I open my eyes and I can’t see nothing. They’ve put a hood over my head, standard practice before beginning an interrogation, disorient the prisoner. Okay, I can feel they’ve taken my clothes off as my skin is touching the cold concrete floor. That’s a bit unusual but not unknown, you get the prisoner and you humiliate him, make him feel small. I don’t like it, but I’ve got to get over it, just go with the flow, just go with the flow. My hands, or more accurately my wrists, are bound together, but not my ankles, that means I must be in a secure facility with little chance of escape, helpless really, yet again it’s fairly standard procedure let the prisoner know how defenceless he is, it’s all done to establish control. I can hear voices, deep masculine voices, sharing a joke, they must of realised I’ve woken from my drugged sleep, as one of the voices breaks off, “I think the unit is awake.”

Footsteps, I can hear footsteps, feel the warmth of another body crouching near to me, “Ah, you’re back in the room,” he says and I recognise the distinctive lilt of the MP’s Welsh accent. And then he’s pushing me around, putting me flat on my back, raising my knees and placing my feet squarely down on the floor. “Keep this position till I say you can move.”

Things could be worse, I’m lying on my back on the cold concrete floor, my knees are bent upwards and my feet flat on the ground, it’s not an uncomfortable position. I shut my eyes, can’t see anything out of the sack over my head anyway. Try to relax, let my training kick in, try to sleep. Time goes by and nothing happens, more time goes by and it feels like I have been lying still for hours. More time goes by and as I lie there I discover little areas of discomfort, bits of grit pressing into my back and the pressure of keeping my knees up like that is getting harder and harder. I can feel the tension in my legs keeping my knees raised, I’d love to stretch my legs, and suddenly all I think of is my desire to move. Perhaps I’m on my own, but the moment I start to gingerly glide my foot forward I can hear a man growl, “I said keep the position until I say you can move.”

Then without warning there’s loud metallic banging near my head, first a sort of hollow clanging like someone has thrown a car exhaust system onto the floor very, very close to me. Minutes tick by then a sound like a heavy metal chain being dropped. Quiet again and then a deadened thump, like a scaffolding pole hitting the floor near me, heavy and loud, I can feel the concrete floor trembling from the shock. I’m on edge waiting for the next unnerving noise, sleep, relaxation impossible and somehow the silence, the waiting, is every bit as stressful as the loud noises.

I try to think nice thoughts, of the guys back at Camp Richmond, but then I can’t get the picture out of my mind of what they were doing to Steve when I was watching him tied to that bed. It’s the one thing I know I shouldn’t think about and what happened to him may not happen to me, “yeah,” says a little voice in my mind, “it may be worse for you”. Then again he didn’t seem to find the experience unpleasant, he didn’t fight it, he seemed to enjoy it his cock was still half hard hours later, “yeah”, says the voice my head, “you keep telling yourself that”.

My mind is racing, going over and over again what I’ve seen, what I think will happen to me. Demons are coming at me from all sides as I remember sitting in the court room watching Steve getting excited as he testified against me, watching his lumpy, bulging crotch as he answered the questions of cruel, hard Colonel Mountstewart. I suddenly wonder if every bloke in that court room was getting turned on and horny apart from me. And something dreadful happens, I can feel the blood rushing to my cock, can feel it heat up and lengthen and slowly raise itself upwards. So there I am flat on my back, naked, tied up and hooded with a great big hard-on jutting up for the world to see.

The Welsh military policeman is back at my side, I feel the rough underside of his boot graze my cock and balls. “Getting turned on are you? I’ll give you a nice little shower to help you cool off,” he says and can hear a zip being pulled down. It’s warm, the liquid that he spills on my body, warm and fragrant, and comforting. Far from cooling me down my mind is suddenly racing with new possibilities. Is he pissing on me? Why aren’t I disgusted? The idea sticks in my head, I’m a sick pervert who likes being pissed on.

My thoughts are interrupted by another voice, further off, “Stop pouring your cold tea over the prisoner,” it says, and I think it’s the voice of the padre, “bring him through, we are ready to start questioning him.”

The military policeman helps me to my feet and places a hand firmly on the small of my back and another on my rock hard cock and leads me out of the room.

  1. I confess to things I didn’t do

I blink as the hood is taken off my head as I take in my surroundings. It’s an interrogation suite harshly lit by a bare light bulb in the ceiling, Mountstewart is there and so is the chaplain sitting across a narrow desk and staring at me, the doctor’s there with a small black leather case and the Welsh Military Policeman is somewhere behind me, I can sense his presence but can’t see him. I am lead to a dentist’s chair and told to sit and swing my legs round, then they undo the binds on my wrists and I’m told to place my arms on the arm-rests of the chair and I watch as they are strapped in place bound with wide black leather cuffs, I can feel another leather strap being tightened round my neck keeping my head flat against the head rest, then two polystyrene blocks are strapped to either side of my head, holding it in place, and finally they bound my ankles in place.

There’s one of their screens attached to a mount which gets wheeled round and tilted so it’s directly above my head and it gets switched on, firing it’s bright, exotic swirls down at me. It’s nice and I would love to let myself be drawn into its hypnotic pulses, would love to let it take me off to la-la land, but I know I need to keep my wits about me so I screw my eyes shut.

“Eye-drops,” barks Mountstewart. And the doctor is suddenly at my side prising my eyes open and squirting a few drops into each of them. It paralyses my eyes, I can’t close them, can’t move them, can’t look away, I’m stuck there helplessly on my back, unable to move my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the throbbing screen. All I can do is lie there letting the spirals suck me in. They wait a few minutes.

“Do you know why you’re here JL0912MS?” Asks the chaplain.

I pause trying to remember, but I can’t think straight, my body feels like it is floating upwards towards the brightly coloured screen.

“I said, do you know why you’re here JL0912MS?” repeats the padre sternly.

“Yes, Sir,” I manage my voice seems small and hesitant. I want to float up, lose myself in the cooling colours of the spiral on the screen.

“Well, tell us then JL0912MS.”

I know the rules of interrogation, give them something, make them like you, let them think you’re cooperative and submissive, but don’t give them too much, answer questions with statements and gently steer the conversation to a neutral place.

I start talking, “I was identified by Captain at Camp Richmond as suitable for your special training programme and was driven here yesterday lunchtime, Sir.”

Mountstewart responds, impatience rising in his voice, “Yeah, we know that, we organised that. But what we’re asking is why you’re in here now being interrogated, do you understand the crimes you’ve committed JL0912MS, do you?”

“Sir, I understand that I have been accused of crimes but I don’t know why.”

“Okay, well just think about it for a moment,” he says.

I can hear them shuffling out, which suits me fine. You see the longer you gaze at the spiral the better it makes you feel, and now that I’m alone I can really focus on the screen. The beautiful swirling patterns draw me in like I’m floating upwards, weightlessly towards the pattern, my body is wonderfully relaxed, my head clear of thoughts, even if I could close my eyes or look away I wouldn’t, it’s just a lovely, peaceful sensation.

I’m distracted by a bit of noise as a couple of them come back into the room. And then someone switches the monitor off and I can feel the bands around my head and neck being unbuckled, I look up and see Mountstewart and the military policeman have returned.

“You’ve switched the screen off, Sir,” I mutter, feeling disappointed by the interruption.

“Very observant,” replies Mountstewart, “we’ve come to ask you a few questions but don’t worry we’ll let you watch the display again later, if you’re a good boy and give us the answers we want to hear.”

So that’s the deal, answer quickly, give them the answers they want, and I’ll be left in peace again to quietly stare at the spirals.

He starts asking me questions, starts asking me to confess. And you know what? I quickly agree to everything they say, I know it’s all bollocks but this way I can return to doing what I want, get back to staring at the screen.

Mountstewart gives me that crooked smile of his, “So you admit to everything, do you JL1209MS?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay then, can you sign here, here and here,” says Mountstewart handing me a form and a pen.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply and sign where indicated. Then he chucks me my boxers and the MP unfastens my hands so I can pull them on.

“Take him to the doctor,” Mountstewart commands the MP, “and get him ready for his treatment.”

“I thought you were going to let me watch the screen again, Sir,” I say, feeling let down.

He bends down, his square jaw next to my face, “Well you thought wrong, didn’t you? Aw diddums.” And then he sweeps out of the room.

  1. The Military Policeman offers to help me out

“Well boyo, you are in a pickle, aren’t you?” the MP asks, smiling sympathetically.

“What’s going to happen next?” I ask.

“It’s kind of inevitable you’re in the programme now, the Doctor’s going to do to you what he does to all the lads. Your best option is to relax, lie back and let it all happen, unless….”

“Unless what?” I ask, hope springing to my breast.

“Unless you overpower me and manage to escape,” he stops, gives me a wink and a broad naughty grin.

I look him up and down, he’s big, he’s strong, how am I supposed to overpower him, and how am I supposed to escape?

He picks up on my hesitation, “There’s a storeroom in the south-east corner of the camp, and say I’m carrying the key to the room in my pocket here, and all you had to do was take the key from me and scarper, that would work, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I say, “but how am I supposed to get the key from your pocket in the first place?”

He puts a hand on his belt buckle, “You’d have to think of a way to distract me and pull my trousers down, any ideas?” My eyes are drawn to his crotch and I can see the outline of his heavy cock pressing against the cotton fabric.

So that’s the deal, all I have to do is to agree to suck him off and when he’s got his hard cock in my mouth and trousers at half mast, I can quickly pull the key out and escape. It’s a simple plan but quite effective. But still I feel suspicious.

“Why are you helping me? What happens if I get caught again?”

He grins and cups his cock in his hand, “Well boyo, I need somewhere to shoot a load, don’t I? It’s not too late for us to be friends if you’re not too proud. And as to the consequences, look if I take you off for processing you’ll be brainwashed turned into a zombie like all the other units, so what have you got to lose?”

I take a good long look at him, weighing up how bad this is going to be. He’s a right thug, with his shaven head, broken nose and strong jaw in his sweaty face, his strong, hard body, tattoos scrawled down his arms, not a pretty sight, not someone you would want to meet on a dark night.

I hesitate, “So how’s this going to work? Won’t they get suspicious if I don’t arrive at the Doctor’s facility soon?”

“No problem, it’s lunch time and the Doc likes to give his orderly a nice long fuck over lunch with Mountstewart and the padre watching, we’re going to stop by the guard-house where I’ve got my office, you’re mine for at least half an hour before they come looking.”

“But I’ve only got a pair of boxers on, how I am going to survive without any clothing?”

“Look, boyo, weren’t you listening? You’ll be leaving through the storeroom so it’s stocked with kit, all you have to do is find some clobber in your size, get dressed and go.”

“Okay,” we trudge on in silence as I consider what I have to do next. We get to the guard-house and he lets me into his office and stands with his legs apart leaning his backside against his desk. I hesitate uncertain as to how this works. He’s such an ugly brute I’m not sure if I can go through with this.

“Got cold feet have you?” he asks smiling at me, “The Doctor gave me a little something, says it works like a love potion, you slip it down and whoever you’re with suddenly becomes the sexiest most good-looking guy in the world. Take this tablet it’ll make things easier.”

He holds out a small white pill and I grab it thankfully and swallow it down. The effect is pretty immediate, my chest feels tight and I can feel my nipples getting hard, my cock’s burning, my mind racing. I look at him again, he’s smiling at me with a crooked grin, but he’s being friendly and that’s making my stomach churn with excitement.

“On your knees boy,” he commands.

My knees, already weak, give way and I slip down and bury my face in his trousers feeling his hot hard cock against my cheek. “Good boy, good boy.” My mouth is watering and I slide my tongue along his rigid tube, chewing his trousers to get at his knob. “That’s right, done this before haven’t you?”

I feel his hand on the back of my head and let him take charge. He pulls my head back slightly and tilts it up so he can spit on my face. I should hate that shouldn’t I? But, no, he’s so strong and so handsome I’m happy to let him spit at me like that. And as I’m savouring his drool he pulls his fly down and gets his cock out.

It’s meaty and long, it’s hard and throbbing, red and hot. Fuck when did he become so sexy? All I can do is worship, gingerly slip my lips around the bulbous head, giggling with joy at the privilege at being allowed touch him.

He looks down at me, “Oh yeah, boyo, that’s what you want isn’t it? Nice big, juicy cock between your lips?”

My face is getting hot, I can feel myself flushing as I am overtaken by something. I can feel myself nodding, can hear myself slurping.

“I bet you want me to slide it down your throat now don’t you?”

My eyes meet his, my mouth is too full to talk but I hope he can see me pleading to be fed more of his length. He smiles, laughs at me and then presses his hand against the back of my head forcing himself in, inch by inch.

“Careful, boyo, if you get too much of a taste for this you probably won’t want to leave tonight.”

It’s too late for the warning to sink in. My mouth is now completely full and I can feel his cock pushing against the side of my cheek. He shifts a bit and his cock grazes my gullet and snakes down my throat. I’m gazing up at him with wonder and delight, and then it strikes me. I love what he’s doing to me. It doesn’t matter that he drugged me or that he’s forcing me, that doesn’t make it any less real, I love what he’s doing and I don’t want it to end.

“It’s a shame you’re moving on, but it’s never too late to change your mind. If you decide to hang around there’s more I can teach you, more games to play, wouldn’t you like that, wouldn’t you like that?”

I gaze up at him lost in admiration, it’s like he can read my mind.

“They’d let me have you, they’d let me make you my pet, they’d let me teach what you need to know, they’d let me get you ready for the experiments they’re going to do to you.”

My mind is lost in a fog of lust. It wouldn’t be, it couldn’t be so bad to let myself surrender, get myself prepped so I’d enjoy the experiments.

“Tell you what boyo, I’m going to stick the key to the storeroom on my desk top here, and next to it my whistle, then I’m going to step out for a moment and you can choose. You can escape by taking the key or you can turn yourself in by blowing the whistle. It’ll be your choice, you can go and never see me again or submit to my custody, be my prisoner and take whatever comes.”

With that he pushed my head away and tucked his fat, dribbling cock back inside his trousers. He smiled down at me as he placed the items on the desk. “Choose wisely, boyo, choose wisely,” he says as he walks out of the guardroom.

  1. I am on the horns of a dilemma and need some advice

I’m sorry to see him go and watch his back as he leaves in the guardroom, there are these lovely little curves where his shirt meets his webbing belt, mouth-wateringly lovely little concave curves on each of his flanks that make me ache with desire. By pulling out early before our sex game had reached its conclusion he’s made my choice tougher, I’m panting for more.

But with him out of the room, with his magnetic presence removed, perhaps I can regain a bit of sanity, perhaps I can rouse myself from the magic he was woven over me. I force myself up and examine the two little metal articles on the edge of the desk.

The key looks perfectly normal, it’s not unusually big, just a rounded Yale key such as I have seen in all sorts of places. I rub it’s cool carved edge across my hand, feeling its weight. The whistle is a small round of tin with a mouthpiece drawn out. The mouthpiece must of been between his lips, perhaps there’s a bit of his saliva still on it, I examine it careful, lick it and then put it in my mouth just in case I can suck some of his juices off it.

I weigh up the objects one in each hand. The key offers me a chance at freedom to escape and somehow find my way back to the normal world become Corporal John Leyland again. The whistle offers me something different, something which I don’t fully understand. Perhaps it’s a doorway into a world where the extraordinary feelings I have for the Military Policeman are common place. I keep coming back to what I saw them do to unit SH0706MS and try to work out how I’d feel if they do that to unit JL1209MS.

I wish I had someone there to advise me. A friendly but impartial onlooker, what would he say? Would he tell me to grab the key and escape before it’s too late? Or would he tell to blow the whistle, tell me to just blow the fucking whistle?

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