Dont Piss Off The Drill Sergeant

I'll be the first one to admit that I was nervous as hell when I enrolled in the US military basic training. On one hand, I was looking forward to the discipline in my life and challenging myself. I wasn't scared of the hard work. But on the other hand, I knew that being around other men 24/7 could be exhausting. I was never much of a man for the "guy talk". All the bravado, unnecessary swearing, and the way some guys talked about women... But I also knew that the army had a no-bullshit policy and that if you don't fit in, you're not going to have a good time.

So when I put on my uniform, I was prepared for the fact that once in a while, I would have to deal with shit like that. Maybe even learn how to pretend to be like that a little bit. And to my surprise, it wasn't that hard! Sure, they were a bunch of horny guys full of spunk with no women around, so sex talk was pretty much on the daily, but it didn't bother me as much as I think it would. I actually started getting into it after a bit.

One day, our drill sergeant ordered us to clean the common spaces of the barracks - my bunkmate and a bunch of other soldiers. It was a hot summer afternoon, so the work was slow and it felt like forever. Nobody wanted to be cleaning, so we spent every single opportunity we could to slack off. When we reached this remote corner of the hallway, we hid from the sergeant who came one in a while to check on us. We were just shooting the shit when one of the other privates pulled out his cell phone.

"Guess what, guys," he said, "Did you know that the sergeant has a wife?"

"No way," my bunkmate said, his tone surprised, "That big loud fucking hairy mountain of anger can get a wife, and I can't even get laid?"

"It gets better," the first one said when he finally scrolled to what he was looking for on his phone. He showed us the picture. Sarge's wife was about half his age, with long, beautiful hair and the physique of a model. It was also a very revealing picture - not THAT indecent when I think about it, but it only takes showing a little bit of skin to rile up a bunch of horned-up soldiers.

Guys were passing around the phone, whistling, laughing, making howling noises, saying shit like:

"Man, I wouldn't mind if she took his place!"

"That brute is fucking a beautiful thing like this?"

"Goddammit, I know what I'm jerking off to tonight..."

I wasn't that much into being so vocal about my sexual needs, especially since his wife - although beautiful - was not really my type, but when the phone got into my hands, I knew I had to pitch in my reaction as well. Peer pressure is a bitch. I knew that if I didn't say anything, or if I didn't react accordingly, I would probably get called a pussy or a cocksucker. I had to play my part - but I may have played it a little bit too well.

"Hah! Oh yeah, what a piece of ass," I exclaimed loudly, "Wouldn't mind getting some of that!"

I was so into the role, I didn't even notice the steps behind me, or the other soldier's grins fading from their faces.

"I would show her a good time," I continued, "A hottie like this? I'd give it to her seventeen times if I could - all night, she wouldn't even walk after."

"Dude, you should probably, sto-"

"I feel bad for her for having to fuck that neanderthal. Such a cutie and she has such a meathead sticking his cock inside her? I'd give her some good dick. She'd be begging for more."

"Private Jones!" I heard a gruff voice from behind interrupt me and felt another man's hot breath on my neck. I immediately stopped in my tracks. Was that...

I turned around slowly to face our drill sergeant. Sergeant Brockman - the meanest caricature of a drill sergeant you could find, like a walking stereotype from the movies. A huge man built like a brick house, probably in his forties or early fifties. His menacing muscles were filling his uniform in a way that would let you know that this man was well aware of how to protect himself without using a weapon. Enormous, broad shoulders, resting bitch face, scars on his face from who knows what hell of combat, and steel eyes that made you look even smaller compared to him. That was our drill sergeant.

"Hardly the language worthy of a member of the US military, is it?" he shouted at me - which was not uncommon. There were very few occasions when he would NOT be shouting.

"Erm... yes, sorry, sir, I just got carried away, um..."

I tried to hide the phone but of course, his eyes noticed immediately. He frowned - which made him look even more terrifying.

"Why don't you show me who you were boasting about?" he gestured at me to hand him the phone, "I'd love to see the woman who has the ability to make my men talk and act like animals."

I could feel the sweat dripping down my face. Every other soldier was silent, looking at Sarge and me. They all knew that he overheard everything I was saying... and that I was in deep shit.

"WELL?!" he shouted, "THE PHONE, PRIVATE! NOW!"

I guess I hesitated a little too long for his comfort. I knew I had no choice. My shaking hand slowly reached up and handed him the phone. I started praying in my head silently when his eyes looked at the screen - maybe a miracle would happen and the phone would suddenly die, or the app would crash?

Nope, fate was not on my side that day.

At first, he looked confused. Then, for a second, his eyes got huge. Hellish huge. Like he was going to cut me up on the spot. But only for a second - after that, his expression has changed to the calmest, most neutral face I've ever seen him make.

He put the phone into his pocket slowly and looked at me. His voice was cold and almost a whisper.

"Private Jones, I want to see you in my office. Today, thirteen hundred hours, sharp. You got that?"

"Y-Yes, sir..." I said, my voice weak and shaking.

He gave me what looked like a subtle death glare and then turned around and walked away. He didn't even scold anyone else for slacking off, which was very out of character for him.

"Wow... I've never seen him being so calm about anything like that before," the owner of the phone said, seemingly not being interested in being connected with it in any way anymore.

"Yeah," my bunkmate added, "I think you kinda pissed him off so much that a simple screaming wouldn't cut it. You're in it deep, Jones. Real, fucking deep."

***

The next few hours were probably the longest in my entire life. During the rest of the shift and the lunch, I was unable to think about anything else but what would happen in that office. I barely ate, and I was as pale as a sheet of paper. I heard the other soldiers whispering about me and how I was gonna get it. Nobody even wanted to sit with me, probably from the fear of being associated with me and somehow getting in trouble too.

When I was walking to the sergeant's office, every inch of my body was telling me to run away. But I knew I had to take my punishment like a man - otherwise, I would make it even worse. I didn't know what to expect when I hesitantly knocked on that door and I was just hoping it wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

"Come in, Jones," I heard the voice on the other side. He was expecting me.

I came in to find him sitting behind his desk, his hands together, staring at me. I closed the door, stood up straight, and saluted.

"Private Jones reporting, sergeant," I said, hearing my voice carrying an anxious tone. Usually, after saluting, he would say "at ease" and he would be very insistent about us keeping the posture until he said so. This time, he didn't, so I was forced to hold the posture.

He kept staring at me. His hands grabbed a cup of coffee that was sitting on his desk. Very, very slowly, he took a sip of that coffee before putting it back on the table. He knew that what he was doing was psychological torture for me, which was without a doubt part of my punishment.

"Tell me, private," he started, again with that unnerving neutral, cold tone, "If you were in my position and one of your men was saying the things that were said about you and your wife... how would you react?"

"Sir," I started, "I am deeply, deeply sorry for-"

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, PRIVATE!"

The sudden roar was loud enough to make my ears ring. I gulped.

"I suppose I would have to punish him, sir."

"And how would you punish him?" he was back to his silent tone.

"I... You usually have us do laps, extra cleaning shifts..."

"Does that seem like a fitting punishment?" he interrupted me, "Laps, Jones? Do you feel like that kind of punishment reflects the amount of disrespect you've shown to me and my spouse today? Do you think that a couple of extra hours of cleaning would make you remember that this is NOT what I expect from my men?"

I could feel the sweat dripping at the back of my neck. What was going to happen to me...?

Sergeant Brockman got up from his chair and slowly circled his table to get to me. He leaned against the edge of his desk, facing me, with his hands folded on his chest, while I was still saluting in an uncomfortable position. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking, and my heavy breathing. Was he gonna punch me? Start a fight or something? Kick me out of the training altogether?

I just wanted him to say or do something already.

"You said some very interesting things back there, private," he continued, "I wasn't sure whether to be angry or impressed. Seventeen times, huh? All night? I wasn't aware that one of my men was such a beast in the bedroom. What an honor it is to be your supervising officer."

His sarcasm burned, but I knew better than to respond with anything or break the silence. I just stayed quiet and held the posture.

"Such an impressive skill set... I can't help but be a little doubtful, private. That kind of sexual performance almost seems impossible. Almost makes me want to see it with my own eyes. Why don't we figure out if you were for real or if you were just talking shit, huh? Drop your pants, soldier."

That took me aback. I paused and then hesitantly asked.

"Um... sorry, sir?"

"Are you deaf or stupid, private?!" he started raising his voice again, "It's a SIMPLE, FUCKING ORDER. DROP YOUR PANTS, RIGHT HERE AND NOW!"

It was a weird, fucking order, but I knew better than to argue. I finally broke my posture and my hands shot down to my belt to quickly loosen it. I let my camo pants fall to the floor, revealing my white boxer briefs. Because I saw sergeant's mouth already opening to yell at me some more, I went ahead and dropped those to the floor too.

I was standing half-naked in front of my superior, my dick as limp as ever - not knowing what to do with my hands, I put them behind my back. I probably looked ridiculous. I was more of a grower than a shower, so it wasn't that much of an impressive sight. I could almost feel his eyes on my dick and I swear I heard a silent chuckle.

"That's it, huh?" he asked as he stepped closer, "That's the magnificent tool that's supposed to satisfy my wife so well?"

To my shock, he reached down and grabbed my dick in his fingers. Sergeant Brockman's huge, calloused hands were on my dick. I couldn't believe this was happening! My breathing was now twice as fast and I tried not to blush, which was an impossible task. It's hard to describe how it feels when such a giant like Sergeant Brockman starts touching your penis - a strange mix of fear and humility. My hands were still behind my back, but I could feel them shaking in nervous anticipation.

"You must be really good with it because frankly, I don't see much here that would be able to give my wife a proper satisfaction - at least at first sight."

Sergeant Brockman was roughly examining my dick. His fingers were tugging, pulling, squeezing, and also slapping my hanging dick. It was humiliating, but that's not even the worst part of it. Sarge was the first person who touched my cock after a really, really long period of sexual abstinence. I was in the army. The only hand my cock was accustomed to was my own, so it was reacting to this change in a way that was... inappropriate.

I tried to stop it. I kept telling myself that it's not a woman, but SERGEANT BROCKMAN who is touching my cock, and I had no reason to get hard! But, unfortunately, those thoughts didn't help, my body just did whatever it wanted. I wished he would stop but he just kept messing around with it, pulling back the foreskin and slapping my balls. Soon, blood started rushing down there, slowly making me hard.

Sergeant Brockman raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Look at that," he said, and his hand started focusing purely on stroking my cock and pulling back the foreskin. He was much harsher than me when I was jerking off, but it still worked. I started to be afraid of what was going to happen if he was to continue.

"Sir," I said meekly, "I don't..."

His hand squeezed my cock hard and his eyes met mine again.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, private," he said, this time just calmly. A warning. I let out a squeak and shut my mouth. He continued to stare into my eyes while his hand kept jerking my cock. I felt the blood rushing there faster and faster and a solid erection started to form in the sergeant's hand.

With horror, I stared down at my cock, fully hard, at the mercy of my drill sergeant. He went back to examining it and seemed interested in the newly found length and girth.

"Still pretty pathetic," he commented, "I guess if you were to fuck my wife, you should do yourself a favor and not do it immediately after I'm done with her. That would just be embarrassing for you."

My cock leaked a small bead of precum into his hand. I don't know what it was about the way he treated me and spoke to me, but my cock would just not get down. I felt so ashamed and was just trying to figure out how much further this humiliation would continue.

The answer I didn't know was "far". It was going to continue much further than that.

With his free hand, Sergeant reached into his front pocket. He pulled out a stopwatch and showed it to me.

"Well, I suppose it could PERHAPS satisfy a woman if it at least lasted long. You said "all night" before, right? Let's put that to a test."

His right hand started the stopwatch, while his left one started jacking me off in a precise tempo. I was trying not to squirm or moan - not only from the fact that he was using force unnecessary for jerking someone off but also from the fact that... I haven't been with a woman in a really long time. And feeling someone else touch my cock felt... refreshing.

I was standing there, hands behind my back, being jerked off by my superior, and feeling like the smallest man in the world. His handjob style matched his style as a drill sergeant - no bullshit, no messing around, and very rough and intense. No matter how I tried, soon it became hard to hold back the moans. It was just so much! Usually, when I jerked off, I didn't put so much vigor into it - I usually took my time and took it easy. Sarge did not.

"Aaah..." I let out, before remembering to shut my mouth. Sarge's steel eyes darted up from my cock to look into mine. He breathed out with his nose. Of course, this was funny to him.

"Do you like this, Private? Huh?" he asked me. After I hadn't responded to what I assumed was a rhetorical question, he squeezed the tip of my cock hard.

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!"

"Oh! Sorry, sir, I... umm..."

What was the right answer? I straightened my back and cleared my throat.

"No, sir, I'm just taking my punishment... sir."

"Your cock seems to disagree with you, soldier," he said, calmly again, as his hand returned to jerking me off, "It seems to enjoy that a real man's hand is milking it for once."

The man stepped closer to me and leaned over, putting his face to my ear. I flinched, I thought he was going to do something, but he was just intimidating me, without even breaking the tempo of beating me off.

"Insubordination is one thing, soldier, but disrespect is on an entirely different level," he whispered to my ear, making me feel his hot, heavy breath. Fuck, I could smell his musky sweat when he was so close. My cock started making wet sounds from the precum Sarge was pumping out of me. I started breathing harder.

"I'm not going to make you go through an ordinary punishment after what you said," he continued, "Because I really need you to remember what happens when a little shit like you starts talking crap about me and my loved ones."

"Sir..." I whimpered. His hand was not slowing down. I curled my toes and tried to think of something unsexy. It didn't work.

"And I'll make sure you remember it, even if I have to keep you here all day, doing unspeakable things to your dick because there are some things I will just NOT tolerate with my men, do you understand that?!"

"Sir... SIR! Aaah!"

"I ASKED IF YOU UNDERSTAND, PRIVATE!"

"AAAAAAH!"

I almost lost my balance when an overwhelming orgasm shook my entire body. Sarge's hand forced my dick to finally give up and about a week's worth of hot, potent cum was shooting out of my cock like fireworks - landing all over sarge's desk, his pant leg, and his shiny, black boot. It would just not end - the most intense and humiliating orgasm ever just continued and my cock just went on and on, creating an even bigger mess!

"Aaaah... I..." it was hard to speak for me because I was panting so hard, "I understand, sir."

"Good," he said, his hand finally leaving my dick, which was now all red and sore. I almost collapsed right on the floor, but I managed to stand on both legs somehow. Not for long, though! Sarge's huge hand, which just got done jerking me off, grabbed my head from the back, and forced me down on my knees.

"Now clean it up!"

Since there was no rag or anything like that in sight, I assumed he wanted me to do that with my mouth. I hesitated. I have never tasted cum, not even my own. I did wonder a little bit, but I never got the balls to do it - to be completely honest, I was kind of afraid that I would like it.

And now it was a command from my superior officer. I gulped and watched the string of jizz slowly dripping down from the edge of sarge's table. He was impatient and I knew he was about to say something, so I just leaned down and did it.

The tangy taste entered my mouth - I was disgusted at first, but doing it here, in front of sarge, kind of felt good. Was I feeling that guilty about what I said about his wife?

While I was busy obediently cleaning my own cum out of his wooden desk, he checked the stopwatch he was using to measure my performance. He gave me a disapproving nod.

"Seriously? So this is the superhuman stamina you were going to present to my wife, huh? I don't think she would be impressed..."

I didn't think it was a fair comparison - I mean, I usually lasted so much longer with women. Although, it also felt very different... I tried not to think about it too hard and instead focused on licking the table clean as new. Ass soon as I was done doing that, I saw his huge, heavy, military boot land on the table right in front of my face. There were splatters of my cum there as well.

"That's about the only thing you're good at - making a mess. Clean this up too."

Something in my mind besides sarge's voice was urging me to do it too - I don't know where it came from, but I decided to go for it. My tongue went down to worship the rough material of sarge's quality leather army boots. He made me work on them way longer than necessary, in my opinion - or was it me staying there for longer than I should?

"Okay, soldier," he said, finally with some satisfaction in his voice, "Good job on round one."

I froze in shock as he said that. Round... one?!

"Those things you said before, about the physical exercise as punishment?" he continued, "Maybe it was not such a bad idea after all - I mean if you're going to be the man to rock my wife's world, you should be in peak condition to do it, right? Get back on your feet! Fifty squats, with jumps, now!"