WARNING - contains language that may be considered offensive and/or derogatory.
Hailing from the Hardcore Marine-corps is beefy Sergeant Tank. The sergeant adorns the mantle of dirty drill instructor today. Flaming hot, ginger trap trouble Charlie Evans is in for the lesson of his life. “Drop down and show me what you got,” demands an imperial Tank. The automatically assigned position of authority imbues the already sadistic heel with access to further corridors of dark fantasy. Tank loves being in charge, as evinced by the vicious testicle play that Damien Rush suffered at his hands. Evans is such a compliant little bitch boy; it’s a tall order suspending sympathy for the twink, his earnestness practically gushing from his rose red cheeks. Charlie’s bashful blushing is met by a direct order from his superior, “Get down there and tie my boots!” Evans professes his willful resolve to join the Hard-corps Marines at any cost and obliges his grinning tormentor.
One fuck up from Charlie is all it takes to propel Sergeant Tank to delve into a series of severe disciplinary maneuvers, the persuasion of which is typically reserved for the naughtiest, rowdiest recruits. Evans can hardly be faulted, other than for his palpable naivety. Seeking to serve the order of marines is merely the symptom of a deep-seated desire to please a master of a man. All too pleased to fill the military boots of that master is the sexually charged, sadistically inclined, real marine bad boy, Tank the Tormentor!
Tank takes the lesson to closer quarters, mounting Evans, giving the virginal lad the briefest of reprieves to ask one simple question, time and again: “So, you still want to join the Corps?” The sick part / totally fuckin hot part of all this, is that a choked Charlie can only whine the word yes. Tank’s treatment of Evans is a huge turn on for the ginger. Even with his cute face buried inches into the mat, Evans can think of nothing more than to keep taking his punishment like a good little bitch boy.Tank’s determination to make the boy his bitch is fed by Charlie’s resolve to suffer through every choke, squeeze and coil his sergeant can dish out. Evan’s efforts are not for nothing, because sweat soon coats the Marine master from his shaved head, all the way down to his now tightly fastened boots, courtesy of the ginger initiate. As with any good hazing, the fresh meat is compelled to worship the hand that beats him. Evans may never be able to wash away all of Tank’s indiscriminately dripped sweat from his hands and body, but then again, the redhead slave is probably perfectly happy to receive any bodily fluid that Master Tank imparts. Evans may not be cut out to be a Marine, but the corrupted twink might just please Tank enough to be worthy of a tiny lodge space in the secret base of the Hard-corps Marine Corps.
