The Captain and the Corporal (Complete) – by Ragnar


On behalf of the Site, I want to express appreciation for sharing with us this superb, quintessential hero-in-distress story.

Thank you, Ragnar!





by Ragnar1963

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This was inspired by a photomanip done by Amalaric, entitled The Captain and the Corporal. He used, for his Captain, the face of a man who had long been a fantasy figure of mine. (I won’t mention him here, in case he self-Googles, but I borrowed his last name for my character’s first name.) I took Amalaric’s premise further, with his permission.

Our heroes:

Cpl Rick McGann, 19

Capt Stann Hardman, 33



Cpl McGann was stunned at the sight of his handsome commanding officer, Capt Hardman, handcuffed with iron manacles to an iron ring embedded high in one wall of the interrogation room, the muscles of his torso clearly outlined through the thin, sweat-soaked tank top he wore. The naked young jarhead was paralyzed both by the sexiness of the muscled Marine in bondage and by fear of what would happen to them both.


“Strip him!” McGann was jolted from his frozen state of shock by the sharp voice of an officer. He looked incredulously at the man barking the order: dark-haired; sharp, cruel features; well-muscled himself under his uniform. The officer smirked at the young Marine’s hesitance and fear. Tossing him an old knife with a rusty blade, the officer repeated his cruel order–and added ominously, “Don’t try anything stupid.”

McGann held the knife and looked at his commander, breathing in the manly musk of his exposed pits. Capt Stann Hardman at 33 was already a scarred and toughened veteran of many special-ops missions, and had chosen McGann especially for this dangerous mission as the Academy’s most promising young recruit. But the 19-year-old rookie and former football QB never expected to be captured by the enemy and ordered to rip Hardman’s clothes from his muscled body. The square-jawed, steely-gazed Hardman looked back at the naked young man and whispered through clenched teeth, “Do what they say. It’ll go easier.”

So McGann had no choice but to slice through the cloth of Hardman’s T at the neckline, grasp it on both hands, and tear it down and away from from Hardman’s body, suddenly exposing the sweating muscles of his bare chest, his dogtags dangling between his pecs. He yanked the shreds off Hardman’s shoulders, leaving him stripped to the waist, ripped torso exposed and vulnerable.

He hesitated only a half-seond before the officer barked, again with a cruel smirk, “The shorts too.” McGann looked at Hardman, who nodded–and the corporal grabbed the waistband of Hardman’s briefs and sliced them off with a flick of the knife. Hardman’s generous endowment, the thick shaft and heavy hairy nutsac, flopped out from the pouch that had held it.

The Captain’s body, arms shackled overhead, now stood nude but for his boots. The expected order came: “Now the boots.” McGann knelt, his face at the level of his CO’s impressively large cock and balls, the scent of his sweaty crotch filling his nostrils, and unlaced Hardman’s black leather combat boots. He pulled them off one by one, then peeled the sweaty socks down from the Captain’s ankles, over his heels, and off, baring Hardman’s size 12 feet, which stood flat on the cold cement floor.


“Take him!” the officer shouted as soon as Capt Hardman was stripped completely naked. McGann had no time to react as three guards surrounded him, yanked him up off the floor where he knelt in front of his CO’s naked body, pulled him to a heavy oak chair, thrust him into it, and began to rope his body. McGann’s wrists were pulled roughly behind him, crossed, and tied together; his ankles and calves were roped tightly to the chair’s front legs. In seconds the guards had him bound inescapably, naked, facing his naked Captain cuffed and dangling from the wall.

Then the officer walked over to McGann, roped and helpless. With a sadistic grin, he reached down and grabbed the 19-year-old’s cock and balls. McGann gasped in fear at having his manhood grabbed as the officer pulled the package away from the Corporal’s body and slipped a padlock around the base, snapping it shut. The ring of the lock squeezed tightly. “That is to keep you aroused during your ordeal,” he sneered as a guard stepped up, took the end of the rope binding McGann’s wrists, and wrapped it under the chair and up around the front. He tied the end of the rope to the young Marine’s cock lock; McGann now could not move his arms without pulling on his cock painfully.

The two Marine special-ops agents were now bound helplessly, facing each other, stripped nude. The officer paced slowly as he spoke. “I am Colonel Tong,” he said. “You have been brought here to provide valuable information about your mission and the other men involved. I trust your vulnerable situation will persuade you to cooperate fully.”

“You’re gettin’ nothin’ out of us,” sneered Hardman. “We’re never gonna fuckin’ talk, no matter what tortures your sick fuckin’ mind has thought up.”

Tong smirked. “This young man is not so confident.” McGann glared defiantly at his captor, but his muscled body trembled slightly at the word “tortures.” Rick had been trained extensively in torture-evasion techniques at the Academy–the young jock’s strength and ability to endure pain was one of the main reasons Hardman had chosen him for this dangerous mission–but he had never yet been interrogated by an enemy, much less one as ruthless and sinister as Tong, in whose captivity he was now tied helplessly.

“And that is why we will focus our efforts on him,” Tong continued. “Yes, my boy,” he said, stroking McGann’s cheek. The young Marine yanked his head angrily away. “Yes, I believe we will find you easier to break.”

“Fuck you,” muttered McGann, summoning all his bravado to try to keep the fear out of his voice. “I can take pain. I don’t care what you do to me.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have been trained to take a great deal of pain of all kinds,” Tong said, admiring the jarhead’s ripped body and thick muscles, fully on display as he sat tied and naked. “I can see how strong your young athletic body is. But is your mind as strong?”

Tong paused ominously. “You see, Corporal McGann, we are not going to torture you. Not yet. We will, however, force you to watch the torture of your beloved commander.”

McGann felt a jolt of cold fear at these words. “Fuck you, Tong,” Hardman spat. You can fuckin’ give this body all the pain you want, I’ll never fuckin’ talk.”

“No, I’m certain you can survive days, weeks of torture. We are well aware of your record of strength and bravery in past missions. But this young man,” he said, gesturing toward McGann, “may break under the mental torture of seeing you suffer. Yes, Corporal, there are many hellish tortures we can inflict on the body of your Captain. He is tough, and his powerful body welcomes pain. But you will watch him writhe in agony before your eyes. You will hear him scream. You will see him weep and beg for mercy. Perhaps this agony will convince you to break and give us the names we want?”

McGann again was frozen with fear. “DON’T FUCKIN’ TALK, THAT’s AN ORDER, CORPORAL!” Hardman barked. “No matter what they do to me–even if they kill me–don’t tell them a fuckin’ thing!”


Part 2

Tong smirked at Capt Hardman’s bravado. “I hope that will not be necessary. Such a valuable source of information. We must keep you alive.” Tong eyed the hard, ripped body of his naked captive, sweating and hanging by his wrists from an iron ring in the dungeon wall, lustfully and hungrily. “Information… and entertainment.”

“I must explain,” continued the sadistic officer. “You see, Tong was not my birth name. It is a–what is the American term?–nickname. Given to me by former guests in my interrogation room. I found it appropriate. So I have adopted it as my own.”

Tong paced before his two nude, roped prisoners. “My interest in methods of interrogation–in inflicting pain on the muscled male body–has led me to make discoveries. Insight into the art of torturing men.” An assistant now brought Tong a metal case and laid it before him on a table. Tong snapped the latches open and lifted the lid. “Years of research on unwilling victims has enabled me to perfect my methods.”


Out of the case the captor drew a pair of metal tongs. About a foot long, they were shaped not unlike medical forceps, but instead of rubber pads, the tips of the arms ended in sharp corrugated teeth. McGann’s heart began to pound harder in his bare chest, though Hardman did not blink on seeing the cruel torture tool–even as Tong plugged a cord into one handle of the tongs and his assistant plugged the other end into the wall.

Tong smiled evilly. “You understand now how my nickname came about. With

this device I can not only crush, but at the same time electroshock, the most intimate parts of a man’s body.” The tongs glistened in the light of an overhead bulb as Tong stepped close to Hardman. “Now, Corporal,” Tong hissed, “you will begin to provide us with names, dates, details, all the information we require. Or your Captain will suffer most needlessly.”

Hardman braced himself, even seeming to thrust out his chest defiantly at the approaching officer as he muttered to McGann through a clenched jaw, “Don’t… fucking… talk,  Corporal.”

Slowly Tong reached his tongs toward Hardman’s bulging right pec. He held the metal teeth over the erect nipple and closed them….

“mmmmghhhphhhrrrrrAAAAAAAAGHHH!” A growl of pain rose instantly from Hardman’s throat and a second later became a roar as the metal tool shocked and crushed his hard pink nip. The Captain’s body thrashed in the overhead cuffs as Tong tightened the device around the tender tit, holding it in his grasp for five seconds that felt like a week before releasing it. Gasping for air, the tortured Captain felt anger replace the pain, and he yanked wildly against the cuffs shouting “FUCK YOU!!!!”

Impassively Tong moved the tool to Hardman’s other pec and crushed the military stud’s left nip, sending agonizing voltage through the naked, dangling prisoner’s chest as he bucked and roared in pain and fury.

“NOOOOOOOOO!” yelled McGann, roped helplessly in the chair and forced to

watch his Captain’s torture.

“I SAID DON’T FUCKIN…… AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Hardman roared as Tong again grasped and squeezed his right nip. The Marine’s body convulsed, screams torn from his throat, as Tong held the mangled tit in his tongs for a full ten seconds. Tong smiled cruelly at the sight of the hard-bodied, nude soldier thrashing in agony and yanking uselessly at his bonds.

Hardman’s tortured chest, glistening with sweat, rose and fell as he gasped for breath after the tongs released his nip. “YOU…. FUCKER!…” he shouted hoarsely. McGann’s muscles also bulged and strained as he tried to no avail to loosen himself from the ropes binding his naked young body.

Meanwhile Tong returned to his case, unplugged the cord, and brought out a

second pair of tongs identical to the first… Both McGann and Hardman began to breathe faster as Tong’s assistant plugged a two-headed cord into both torture devices, then into the wall… Hardman jerked and thrashed from side to side, but his nips could not escape the approaching torture as Tong clamped the tongs onto both his tits at once, causing the shock to tear through his pecs and drawing a long, hoarse roar of pain from the throat of the chained, chest-tortured soldier…


Part 3

Tong left his nude victim, Capt Stann Hardman, dangling from his wrists against the brick wall, dripping with sweat, gasping for breath from the convulsions of his chest electrotorture. The cruel interrogator walked over the innocent young Marine, Cpl. Rick McGann, also naked, his ripped, muscled body roped helplessly on a chair from which he was forced to witness the brutal agonies of his commander.

Tong stroked the nude soldier’s cheek. “You see now what will happen if you do not cooperate,” Tong muttered icily. “You will watch as your Captain is reduced to a screaming, writhing painslave. As his muscular body convulses and thrashes in agony. But his suffering will end if you only tell us what we want to know.”

“NOOOOO!!! FUCK YOU!! DON’T TALK!!!!” Stann shouted hoarsely, gathering his last ounces of strength. The naked torture victim’s face was red with anger. “I CAN TAKE MORE!!!”

McGann trembled with anguish as he imagined his CO’s stripped, chained muscles thrashing under further electrotorture–his captain’s hard pecs, rippled abs, broad shoulders, football biceps, even his thick dangling horsecock all suffering the tortures of the cruel interrogator’s electrified tongs.

“Very well, then,” Tong smiled. “I see I shall have to step up the treatment.” He pulled a larger set of tongs from his case and plugged the wire into one handle. The jaws of the tongs each ended in a square of metal about two inches wide. “You see this implement is designed to attack an area somewhat larger than a nipple. Now will you talk, or do we continue the interrogation?”

“McGann… ” Hardman muttered warningly.

His heart pounding, the young Cpl spoke the words Hardman both demanded and feared: “Fuck you!”

Tong said nothing, but only smirked coldly and walked back to Hardman–holding the electrified tongs in front of the Captain’s eyes to give him a good look, then lowering them slowly… and, as if he had read McGann’s mind thinking about his CO’s cock, grasping one of the balls in Hardman’s dangling nutsac and squeezing….


BASTARD!!!!!!” Hardman’s nude body thrashed maniacally in his chains as Tong crushed the soldier’s nut, sending agonizing voltage into his manhood! The sight of the naked sweating stud yanking at his wrist cuffs and writhing in pain, his muscles rippling, dripping with sweat, aroused the sadism in Tong even further. He released Hardman’s right nut only to press the left one harder still in the jaws of his torture tongs.

Hardman screamed and bucked as the shock fried his crushed ball. McGann thrashed in his chair too, frantically but futilely trying to break free, working up a sweat himself watching his handsome Captain being tortured.

“TALK, DAMN YOU!” Tong yelled over the shouts and screams of his muscled victim.

“LET HIM GO, YOU BASTARD!!!” McGann shouted in response.

Suddenly the angered interrogator let his prisoner’s tortured testicle loose and advanced on the Corporal. “You will SPEAK!!!!!” he roared in fury as he pushed the young jarhead backward in his chair. “AAAAGHHHH!” yelled McGann as he fell backward to the floor, crushing his muscled arms beneath him–but then he screamed even louder as a bolt of hot pain shot through his leg–Tong grasped the big toe of McGann’s upturned bare left foot and squeezed it in the tongs, sending torturous current up the boy’s hard-muscled leg.

“AAAAAGGGHHHHH!!!!! NOOOOO!!! AIIIEEEEEEEE!” the teen Marine screamed as the electrotongs crushed his big toes, first the left, then the right, his big bare feet wriggling wildly roped to the chair legs, his head thrashing from side to side from the pain as lightning shot up his legs all the way up to his groin and his own impressive manmeat.

Hardman screamed as loud as he had when Tong was electroshocking his nutsac. “NOOOOOO!!!! FUCKER!!!!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!!!!” His balls ached hellishly from the double torture, but watching the young jarhead tortured was just as agonizing.

“WHO WILL TALK FIRST???” Tong yelled as his victim writhed on the floor beneath him, his bare feet tortured by the crushing tongs. “Continue with the cane!!!” he barked at a guard as he released the Marine’s toe and moved back to Hardman…

The screams torn from Stann’s throat by his crushed, shocked balls were soon joined by new shrill yelps of pain from the naked McGann, whose helpless tied bare soles were now being lashed and beaten, stroke after stroke, by a stiff rubber cane wielded by the guard…


Part 4

Nearly maniacal with anger, Capt Hardman thrashed and yanked at his wrist shackles uselessly as he was forced to watch his young colleague suffer the torture of bastinado. The corporal rolled and writhed on the ground as the guard, with an evil grin, slashed his helpless tied bare soles over and over with the cane.

“I must tell you about this torture, Capt. Hardman,” said Tong suavely over the wild screams of the lashed soldier. “Having your feet beaten is a favorite method of interrogation in many parts of the world, though perhaps you personally are not familiar with it. I had a special cane made–a core of steel cable wrapped in rubber. After much experimentation on American captives such as yourself, I determined this device provided the most painful stroke. With it I have broken many strong soldiers… and crippled the most stubborn ones.”

Hardman’s breath came in wild gasps, from anger and from the agony of his own torturous ordeal. He could not speak, only thrash like a caged animal as he watched the young jarhead’s bare feet struggle wildly, toes wiggling, to escape the blows of the cane.

“Harder! HARDER!!” bellowed Tong, who had to shout to make himself heard over the crescendoing screams of the foot-tortured, naked soldier, still bound tightly to the chair as he lay on his back on the floor, his beaten feet high in the air and vulnerable to the rubber/steel whip.


“You see now that you must tell me what I want to know,” Tong said to Hardman. “The agony of the bastinado is indescribable, especially at this level of intensity. The pain of even a light blow on the sole of the bare foot travels all the way up into the victim’s core. Men have been driven mad by it.” Hardman, dangling naked from his chains, watched each slashing blow on McGann’s naked feet in horror.

“Fuck you! FUUUUCK YOUUUU!!!!” Hardman shouted in impotent rage, yanking so hard on his wrist cuffs as to bruise them severely.

The stubbornness of his torture victim enraged Tong in turn. Furiously he grabbed the bastinado cane from the guard, and without warning he lashed Hardman’s bare pecs with it! swishhhhCRACK!!!! swishhhCRACK!!!! swishhhCRACK!!! Again and again the savage blows landed on the Marine’s muscled chest, who roared in pain as the rubber torture tool raised welt after welt.

Now it was Hardman’s turn to scream. Each blow on his hard muscled chest–and now his abs–felt like fire, like a bolt of lightning had struck him across the torso. “TALK!!! TALK, DAMN YOU!!!! TALK!!!!” Tong shouted in a sadistic frenzy. At last, after 30 or 40 blows, Tong, dripping with sweat from the exertion, threw the cane aside and bellowed, “CLAMP HIM!!!”

Guards moved swiftly to attach jumper-cable-like clamps to Hardman’s right thumb and left big toe. The teeth of the large clamps bit down hard on his digits–he could not shake them off, though he writhed frantically in the attempt as Tong clicked a dial on the black box to which the clamps were attached by wires…. then pressed a button…

Suddenly all was silent in the room save for two sounds–the soft gasping sobs of the foot-tortured corporal and the low sinister hum of the black box… Hardman was stunned, unable to speak, as the voltage slammed through his naked muscled body… he only convulsed inhumanly, his staring eyes blank, as his dangling body felt the torture of the current from finger to toe…


Part 5

Every sweating muscle in the ripped body of Capt. Stann Hardman, U.S. Marine, writhed and flexed as the current slammed through them. Tong was mesmerized by the spectacle of rippling masculine muscle in spread-eagled bondage before him–so mesmerized that he nearly forgot to release the button before he gave his prisoner a lethal dose. The current stopped and Hardman’s body immediately began gasping for breath–convulsing almost as violently as he had under the unimaginable agony of the electrotorture.

His head hung limp. Slowly he lifted it, his eyes focusing until they bored into Tong’s with a fury that belied the exhaustion of the rest of his body. Tong reached for the button again. . . mustering all his remaining strength, Hardman whispered one word. . . “fuck….”

“AAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!!!!!!!”–before the current again racked his muscled body! Writhing and spasming, his naked body thrashing in his chains, Hardman felt the inhuman agony of the near-fatal blow of electricity flowing from thumb to toe. . .

The torture stopped and Hardman’s body went limp. “NOOOO!” screamed Cpl Rick McGann in anguish as he watched the torture of his CO from his position on the floor, tied tight into a tipped chair, ankles roped, his bare feet reddened, stinging, and throbbing from the hellish bastinado. Tong’s assistant inspected the Captain, lifting one eyelid. . . “Unconscious. Not dead.”

McGann’s despair turned to fury. “YOU FUCKERS! YOU GODDAMNED FUCKING BASTARDS—AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!” Another slash of the rubber-wrapped cable across his helpless bared soles stopped the young soldier’s rant. His toes wiggled in agony as a tear of anger and agony trickled from his right eye.

“We can do no more tonight,” Tong barked. “We will resume the interrogation in the morning. Take them to the pit.” Guards quickly unbound the prisoners and dragged them off. Hardman, out cold, and McGann, unable to walk on his bruised feet, put up no resistance as they were manhandled out of the room and into the courtyard of the enemy compound.

McGann watched in horror as the guards dragged Hardman to the edge of a pit, its opening about five feet across, and dumped him in. A second later he heard a dull thud as his Captain’s body landed on what sounded like solid ground, and a second after that McGann himself was dragged to the edge and pushed in. He could not prevent himself from falling onto Hardman’s unconscious form. There was barely room in the bottom of the pit, roughly eight feet deep, for both naked prisoners. Overhead a heavy iron grate was being pushed into place over the opening of the pit. “Sleep tight!” shouted one guard. “We will have more fun with you dogs tomorrow!” and the others laughed as they walked away.


As Capt. Stann Hardman’s eyes slowly opened, he had no idea how long he’d been in the bottom of the pit, how long he’d lain unconscious… he could only tell his naked body lay tangled in a heap with that of Cpl. Rick McGann. He could feel the shallow breathing of the younger soldier’s body, still out cold, against his bare chest. The closeness of the muscled jarhead, the weight of his inert nude body, stirred his memory–even as it stirred something else, an involuntary twinge in his groin, a slight shift and thickening of his cock…

Hardman’s memory relived the nightmare ordeal of the past hours… the capture… the forced march back to this POW camp… the interrogation and brutal tortures of him and his hardy young comrade… the descent into the pit just before all went black… now his body ached from the twisted position he was lying in… he could see through the iron bars at the top of the pit it was still night…

The captain tried to shift into a more natural position that would relieve some of the ache of his joints–but his first move jolted McGann awake. “Whaaa….” the younger prisoner gasped–and Hardman could see his eyes open and the memory of the hideous torture come flooding back, the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness destroyed by the realization of their captive state…

Frozen in horror for a brief moment, McGann’s face relaxed into surprise as he realized his naked body was collapsed on top of his CO’s. “What the fuck”–His gaze sought Hardman’s as if to ask forgiveness for this involuntary, embarrassed intimacy–and the feel of Hardman’s warm, protective, paternal hand on the back of his neck was all the forgiveness McGann needed.

“Try to sit up, Corporal,” Hardman whispered in the dark. But McGann’s first move was halted by a wince–a sharp pain shot though his bruised foot as he put weight on it. “Careful,” said Hardman as McGann grimaced in pain while trying to maneuver his naked body into some more comfortable position, disentangling his limbs as best he could from his Captain’s in the tight space at the bottom of the pit.

“Hang on,” said Hardman as he found McGann’s large bare feet near his face. “Lemme take a look”–and he gently held and stroked the bruised soles, tortured by bastinado in the interrogation room. Every spot Hardman touched was tender, but the Captain’s soft, caring strokes helped ease the pain.

“Here–try not to put weight on it. Lie on your side,” said Hardman, and slowly McGann eased into a fetal position, lying on his right side on the floor of the pit, naked body folded in two. There was only enough room for Hardman to assume the same position, lying on his right side and “spooning” his corporal. Hardman extended his right arm and placed it under McGann’s head, then gently pulled the corporal back until his back was pressed against Hardman’s broad, muscled chest.

The two soldiers lay close together, naked, the Captain’s strong arms enfolding the Corporal, both men trying to find comfort after their brutal ordeal.

“Captain?” whispered McGann.

“Yeah, Rick?” The younger Marine, slightly startled by the first-name intimacy, felt his CO’s warm breath on his ear.

“What next?”

A pregnant pause. “More torture, buddy.” Was it just because he was being held close by a strong muscled stud–or did Rick’s cock twitch at the thought of further interrogation? “Those bastards are gonna keep torturing us until we talk or get rescued or… ” Hardman’s gruff but soft voice trailed off.


Part 6

Trapped in the bottom of the pit, the two captured heroes fell into a fitful doze. The cold night air and their nakedness left them no choice but to huddle together as best they could.

They were harshly awakened the next morning by laughter. Several of Tong’s guards stood around the lip of the pit, pointing and jeering at seeing the two American soldiers, naked and dirty, curled up fetally next to each other. Mocking kissing sounds suggested that they were taunting McGann’s and Hardman’s masculinity.

“Get out!” one of the guards barked. A rope was thrown down.

“Fuck you!” yelled McGann.

The click of a pistol. Tong appeared suddenly at the mouth of the pit, posting his weapon at the two men. “Climb up now,” he ordered coldly. “Or I will shoot you each in the leg and leave you to die.”

Glaring in fury, Hardman grabbed the dangling rope and climbed up hand over hand, his biceps and pecs bulging. Momentarily intimidated into silence at his astonishing upper-body strength, the guards watched as he emerged from the pit. Two of them grabbing each arm, and Tong’s pistol aimed point-blank at Hardman’s head, kept the Captain from making a break for it.

The guards held him tight as McGann scrambled up the rope. He too was grabbed and held by Tong’s guards. “So,” the commandant sneered. Perhaps a night in the pit has persuaded our prisoners to change their minds and cooperate?”

“We’re still not fuckin’ telling you a goddamned thing.”

Tong smirked. “Then your suffering will continue. I only wish I could be here to witness it.” Tong motioned with his gun, and the guards dragged the two men to the center of the compound’s open space. The sun blazed overhead.

Four iron pegs were driven into the hard ground, forming a square about eight by eight feet. In the middle a 50-gallon drum lay on its side. McGann was forced to lie down over the drum, its curve in the small of his back. His arms and legs were spread-eagled, and the Corporal realized he was going to be staked out, his back arched over the drum.

Then he saw one guard lift something dripping out of a bucket of water. They were leather straps of some kind… he distributed them to the guards holding down McGann’s arms and legs. Each wrist and ankle was bound tightly with what the young soldier now realized were thick strips of rawhide three or so feet long. His limbs were pulled taut, and the strips’ other ends tied securely to the bottoms of the pegs…. the naked Corporal was spread-eagled, nude, his back arched uncomfortably over the drum, his hips thrust into the air… facing up, he felt the brutal glare of the midday sun on his exposed skin.

Then the guards holding Hardman took more soaking-wet rawhide strips and tied his wrists and ankles tightly. Four posts were driven into the ground, in a square like the pegs that held McGann but perhaps five feet tall. Hardman was lifted and moved to the center of the square. The strips were pulled taut by four men, and each one tied it securely to the top of a post. He too was spread-eagled horizontally, naked–but face down and suspended in the air like a hammock.

It was then Hardman saw the ashes and charred fragments of wood on the ground underneath him…

“Perhaps you have figured out by now what will happen to these wet straps as the sun’s blazing dry heat begins to work on them?” Tong taunted.

“Yeah. They’re gonna fuckin’ shrink,” muttered Hardman furiously.

Tong chuckled. “Oh, yes, indeed, Captain. They will shrink quite severely–to half their current length, in fact–in this intense dry heat. And as they do, of course, your already painful stretch will become most excruciating.”

He stepped closer to Hardman. “Naturally we have an additional refinement for your slow torture.” A gesture brought three guards laden with logs…

Hardman looked up defiantly at his sadistic captor, who sneered back as the logs were placed upon the ashes directly beneath the prisoner’s naked dangling body.

A match struck… the logs were lit.

“As I said, urgent business calls me elsewhere. I will not be able to remain and witness the agonizing stretching of your bodies, racked by the shrinking rawhide. Or your slow roasting as you hang helplessly over the fire pit’s red-hot coals. But the anticipation of returning to see two strong men weeping, begging me to allow you to tell me everything, will be quite delicious. Something to look forward to indeed.”

“GUARDS!” Tong shouted. “I shall return in three days. The prisoners are not to be touched!” For he knew that left to their own devices, the thugs would inflict the crudest brutalities on the well-built captives–very possibly accidentally killing them. And that horror Tong could not risk. No, these brutish men had none of the Commandant’s learned appreciation for the refinements of torture. For the beauty of rippling and writhing masculine muscle; the grimace of agony on a handsome face; the display of superhuman strength and will under cruel duress…

“No, let sun and flame do its cruel work on the male body.” He knelt to stroke McGann’s cheek. “Slow… slow torture.”


Part 7

Hour after hour, the slow torture of the two soldiers continued.

The hundred-degree jungle sun beat down on McGann’s front and Hardman’s back. Their nude bodies found no relief, either from the blistering heat of day or the chill of night. And the slow-burning logs in the firepit over which Hardman hung face-down ensured his chest, legs, and dangling cock would be just as painfully seared and reddened as his back and ass.

And the rawhide thongs that bound both heroes’ wrists and ankles… slowly drying in the heat, they shrank by infinitesimal degrees… pulling ever tighter, like a cruelly slow medieval dungeon rack, the outstretched muscled limbs of the captured soldiers… By noon of the second day, McGann’s hands and feet were lifted off the dirty ground, pulled so taut that he lay supported only by the metal drum in the small of his back… while Hardman’s stretch lifted his body, dangling like a hammock, closer to the horizontal, though that offered no relief from the smoldering logs below…

The guards knew what punishment awaited them if they disobeyed Tong’s orders. They had seen their comrades in the prison camp bullwhipped into unconsciousness and worse for rousing their commandant’s anger… but their sick minds devised ways to torment their captives without “touching” them. They laughed cruelly as they pokered the logs smoldering red-hot underneath Hardman, sending sparks into the air that landed with tiny burning stings on his thighs and abs… even his dangling cock and balls… they tormented McGann by pouring precious water on the ground near his head, just out of reach of his parched lips…

“Our master said we would be well-rewarded if we broke you,” one guard taunted. “So perhaps you will talk now and we will dump you back in the pit?”

“No . . . “ McGann moaned, his strength waning, driven nearly delirious by the relentless sun.

“Fuck off and die, assholes!” barked Hardman.

The guard knelt and looked up directly into the suspended soldier’s face, nose to nose. “Perhaps it is your young friend who will ‘fuck off and die’ first,” he taunted.

Hardman attempted to spit in his tormentor’s face, but the cruel sun and flame left his mouth too painfully dry. Enraged by the gesture nevertheless, the guard picked up a burning log with a pitchfork, carried it to where McGann lay spread-eagled, and, to the horror of both captives, placed it inside the metal drum…

The pain grew rapidly as the log heated the drum over which the bound jarhead lay agonizingly stretched. The guards smirked and laughed as he moaned, his handsome young face grimacing in agony, his body writhing, muscles rippling, squirming to the extent that he could as he lay nearly immobilized by the ever-tightening stretch of the torturous shrinking straps…

“Fuck you… FUCK YOU….” Hardman groaned in fury, helpless as he hung slowly roasting over the firepit, his muscles and joints aching hellishly, his skin burned above and beneath.

Hour after hour the torture continued. The two military heroes lay in agony, racked by the rawhide pulling their muscled limbs in four directions, naked flesh parched and reddened by the searing heat…

Beside himself with the slow cruel torture, McGann could not prevent a moan of suffering from escaping his lips… “Please…”

Hardman barely had the strength to respond: “Don’t beg… soldier… you’re a… Marine…”


Part 8

Hour after hour, the slow torture of the two soldiers continued.

The sun’s blazing heat had baked the wet rawhide strips, shrinking them and pulling Hardman and McGann’s naked muscled bodies taut, stretched, aching, immobilized. Inch by inch the straps increased their agony, digging cruelly into wrist and ankle with hideous relentlessness under the 100-degree sun. The bodies of the two brave military men were baked from above and below, skin reddened to rawness, their musculature dehydrated so as to make their awesomely fit bodies even more ripped. Even suspended face down over the firepit, kept well-stocked with slowly smoldering logs by the sadistic guards. Hardman refused to talk, refused to beg for mercy. His young comrade, McGann, now balanced atop the barrel in the small of his back, his limbs stretched up off the ground, his back arched exposing his torso to the punishing sun, also would not break.

Midafternoon of the third torturous day, Tong drove back into camp to find the prisoners near-delirious with pain and dehydration—at once angry that the American soldiers had given up no intel yet and glad that he had not missed that glorious moment when they broke and were reduced to begging Tong for mercy.

He stepped out of the jeep and strode to where Hardman hung spread-eagled. He roughly grabbed the Captain’s chin, lifted his face, and stared into the naked torture victim’s bleary, unfocused eyes. “I see the dogs have cruelly denied you water,” Tong muttered with a sadistic smirk.

Hardman would have spat in his captor’s face had his mouth not been parched.

Tong drank in the arousing sight, staring into his captive’s handsome helpless face, letting his gaze play over his chiseled body, savoring his agony. “And not a word from you yet, I hear. Oh, well. It is only a matter of time until you will be begging me to allow you to talk.” He released Hardman’s head; it dropped limply.

Tong stepped to Hardman’s side and held out his hand. A guard handed the commandant a two-foot length of rubber hose.

wssssshTHWACK!!! Without warning Tong lashed the hose with brutal strength across Hardman’s bright red sunburned back.

An inhuman growl of pain collapsed into choked sobs; the lash felt as though a white-hot iron had been laid directly upon Hardman’s bare flesh, but his bone-dry throat turned his scream of pain into something strangled, animalistic.

“Ah, it hurts even to scream….” Tong whispered, obscene notes of joy and lust in his voice. He picked up the end of a twig that lay among the coals… and ground the red-hot ash at the other end into the sole of Hardman’s naked foot…. the Captain’s muscled body writhed and twisted in its taut rawhide bonds, more inhuman growls torn from his throat.

Tong snickered, dropped the torturous twig and walked over to examine McGann. He found the young Corporal’s naked body stretched to its limit, his head dangling limply, his hips thrust into the air by the barrel underneath.

The sadistic torturer knelt to examine his victim’s 19-year-old face. Though McGann refused to beg aloud, his eyes could not help but reveal his desperation for relief from the torture.

“I believe American Marines have a saying: ‘Death before dishonor,’ ” Tong said coldly, admiring the powerfully muscled young body suffering so bravely under the blistering heat. “It seems the time is rapidly approaching when you must make your final choice…”

McGann tried to focus on his torturer’s face. Summoning all his strength, he managed to whisper… “You… bastard…”

Angered, Tong stood up and kicked the stretched soldier roughly in his ribs. “Aahhhh…” McGann moaned, feeling the jolt in his rawhide-wrapped wrists and ankles. Then Tong slowly lifted one leg and planted the toe of his black leather boot between McGann’s legs and onto the young hero’s nutsac, pressing… pressing… crushing his balls against the hot barrel… his victim’s face slowly twisting into a silent scream…

“Enough!” Tong shouted as he released McGann’s throbbing nuts. “If you choose not to talk, you will pay the ultimate price—as slowly and painfully as I can make it. String them up!”

The guards leapt into action. McGann was taken first; his rawhide strips were untied from the stakes and his groaning hulk was dragged to the area between two posts about 10 feet tall and eight feet apart. Chains ran through rings near the tops of the posts; to one end was tied the rawhide; the other was pulled; and McGann’s body was hoisted agonizingly into the air, his arms spread as if for crucifixion. His legs were spread and his feet tied off the the bottoms of the posts. If his horizontal spread-eagle had been painful, his vertical position, his weight now dangling from his raw wrists, was 10 times more so.

Hardman got the same treatment; he was untied from the posts, let down from his spread-eagle over the hot coals, and dragged to the posts. As two guards began to tie his wrist straps to the chains, another stepped up to Tong and whispered something, smirking as he did. “Oh, yes?” Tong said aloud. “Nestled together in the pit?”

The guard pointed to Hardman, lying on the ground, and made a rotating gesture with his hand. “Brilliant idea,” said Tong, a new light of cruel joy in his eyes. “Stop!” he barked to the guards tying the prisoner’s wrists. “Lift him by his feet.”

As realization dawned in the guards’ faces, they began to smirk, then laugh openly. They instead tied the Captain’s ankle bonds to the chains. When the chains were pulled through the rings, Hardman was pulleyed into the air—upside down.

The chains clanked as his ankles rose, his body pressed front to front against McGann’s. The cruel mocking laughter reached a climax as the chains lifted Hardman until his genitals were exactly at face level with McGann. Since the men were of similar height, of course Hardman’s head now dangled down with his face at the level of McGann’s cock and balls…

Hardman’s arms were quickly spread and tied off. The two men hung spread-eagled between the posts, front to front—both their faces pressed directly in each other’s groins. Even Tong laughed at the humiliation. “Perhaps you have long desired to suck your young friend’s cock!” he taunted, shouting at Hardman. “Here is your opportunity!”

“Revive them,” he barked, and guards threw a pail of dirty water onto each strung-up prisoner’s head. As they sputtered and shook it off, another guard opened a large leather case and displayed the contents to Tong. He studied it for a moment. “The bullwhip, I believe, to begin with.” He drew the torture instrument from the case and uncoiled it. “Let us see what effect 50 lashes will have.”


Part 9

Capt Stann Hardman of course had been lashed many times, and worse, while captured by the enemy during the course of various top-secret military missions. But even a torture veteran like him was not prepared for the explosion of pure pain as Tong brought the bullwhip down with full force on the muscled back that had been roasted bright red by three days of exposure to the blazing sun. The white-hot stroke made him feel like his torso was being ripped in two–like the sun itself was being pressed into the slashing wound.


It drew a gasp, a manly choked grunt from his parched throat… “UUUNNHHH…”

Another cruel stroke…. wsssshhhCRACK!!!


The third blow of the bullwhip onto the burned back of the naked suspended prisoner brought a smile to Tong’s lips, a sadistic smirk to his handsome face…. for it produced what no torture had yet evoked from the powerful muscled soldier… a full-throated yell…


A growing bulge in the front of the flogger’s trousers betrayed the sadistic lust he felt torturing his muscled victim, dangling by his ankles, his stoic resolve finally broken, at last giving full involuntary voice, louder and louder with each lash, to the unimaginable agony that racked his body…




In an even greater triumph for the unsurpassable expert in inflicting pain, the brutal lashing even forced Hardman, the jarhead hero, the awesomely built superhuman, sweaty, dirty, hardbodied, not only to scream but to BEG FOR MERCY….




Roped to his CO, McGann was driven nearly mad with the mental anguish of hearing Hardman broken by the brutal bullwhipping… had he not been dehydrated from his torturous three-day stakeout, a tear might have rolled down the young man’s dusty cheek at hearing his hero suffer such brain-splitting agony… but he was certain that Hardman, even though he was tortured into satisfying Tong’s hideous urges with his screams, would remain unbreakable on the more important point–not uttering a word about the mission to which Hardman had pledged his life… “Death before dishonor” was not just an empty slogan–McGann was certain Hardman would willingly accept even the most brutal death without talking…

But could McGann do the same?

The 19-year-old soldier’s heart throbbed in his chest as Tong ordered a guard to continue the assault on Hardman with a vicious-looking nine-stranded lash while he walked around to the other side of the frame from which the two soldiers hung, face to cock and cock to face, to stand behind McGann with his bullwhip…


Part 10


The first blow of Tong’s bullwhip on the rippling back muscles of the 19-year-old soldier knocked the wind out of him.

The evil torturer raised the braided rawhide lash again, whirled it around his head, and brought it down with all the force he could muster on the body of the young prisoner dangling painfully by his chained wrists.



Cpl McGann could not cry out, could not even breathe, stunned by the force of the blow and of the explosion of agony on his naked back.



Gasping desperately for air, McGann breathed in the musky aroma of the naked crotch, an inch from his face, of his Captain, who hung upside down and unconscious, his body pressed against the corporal’s.



Torture upon torture… the bullwhip wielded so expertly by Tong inflicted more brutal agony that even the bastinado or the blistering three-day stakeout had.



The young jarhead had seen his own CO tortured nearly to death… heard his screams… and now had to bear alone the pain that Tong was using to extract the vital information that would result in the capture of his comrades…

McGann pulled on the chains he hung from… saw his rock-hard biceps flex… knew he must endure rather than break… “Death before dishonor”… the vow pounded in his brain… yet each hideous stroke of the whip made it harder and harder to focus, to keep control, to resist bursting out with the information that would stop the torture…




He thought of Capt. Stann Hardman, his hero, who had endured far worse agony on his roasted back, far worse as his naked chained body was tortured with the electric tongs… and knew that nothing mattered, not even his own life, more than protecting his platoon and honoring the Marine Corps oath…

20, 30, 40 strokes of the bullwhip, Tong growing angrier with each lash at his prisoner’s silence… until…

“ENOUGH!” Furious that he had failed even yet to torture the information out of his prisoners, Tong threw his bullwhip to the ground. “It is time for you dogs to pay for your silence with your lives! Prepare them for the final ordeal!!!” he shouted.

The two soldiers, one unconscious, the other barely alive, were lowered from their chained spread-eagle. Quickly they were turned back to back, their wrists each handcuffed behind them, and McGann, too weak to resist, his back bloody with the rawhide’s lacerations, was flipped over so he too hung by his ankles.

A bucket of cold dirty water revived the prisoners as they were hoisted back into the air, heads four or five feet off the ground. Sputtering attempts to struggle made the muscles in their ripped bodies ripple, but breaking free was impossible as they dangled by their bare feet. A leather strap was placed around their powerful thighs to cinch their bodies together, ass to ass.

A wide trough was brought and placed directly underneath the two. A hose filled it with water while another guard brought a thick power cable connected to a large generator. The free end of the cable was ripped open, exposing a cluster of bare wires.

As the cable’s end was placed into the filling trough and the generator switched on, McGann and Hardman realized with a chilling jolt what Tong had planned for them…

Though weakened, they began to thrash and struggle in their chains as Tong laughed. A gesture from the sadistic commander, and the chain from which the two dangled was lowered… they writhed and thrashed more frantically as their heads approached the water’s surface… they bent their necks as they neared the water…

“Yes, my heroes!” Tong taunted. “You have guessed correctly that the voltage will kill you instantly if you were to contact the electrified water in any way…” To avoid touching it as they were lowered even closer, they bent at the waist… lifting their backs higher and higher as they were lowered… Hartman and McGann grunted with the effort as they were forced to hold their backs above and out of the water, their shoulderblades and arms only inches from instant electrocution, using only the strength of their steely abs to keep their bodies bent at right angles at the waist…

Tong’s sadistic laughter rang out as they struggled. “How long can you hold out???” he taunted. “How long, my victims, until you tire, collapse, and fall back into the trough? I hope you will last at least until your captive platoon arrives, so they may watch you fry!”

Grunts and groans burst from the prisoners as their tortured, already exhausted bodies strained to remain above the fatal water… “Fuck you, you bastard….” Hardman muttered as his sixpack rippled with the near-unendurable strain.

A guard handed Tong a long bamboo pole. Hartman steeled himself for the blow he knew was coming…

THWACK!!! Tong raised the pole and brought it down brutally onto the Captain’s abs! Strangled moans from the suspended man as the taut muscles holding him aloft from instant death were beaten!

THWACK!!! A blow for McGann, the 19-year-old soldier, whose handsome young face grimaced with the agony in his abs…

THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! Hideous stinging blows on the abs and bulging pecs of each prisoner in turn as the commandant beat them mercilessly, hoping to force each man down into contact with the electrified water…

THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! Brutally bruised and afire with pain, each man’s torso was beaten again and again as he hung inches from death, with the superhuman strength of his abs all that was keeping him alive…

Their faces twisted in pain, grunts torn from their beaten guts, both soldiers had no choice but to endure the cruel blows of the potentially fatal torture… a moment of weakness from their hard-muscled bodies would be their last…

THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! They both knew Tong would keep up the thrashing of their abs and pecs until they collapsed and perished in the electrified water…

“Be…” THWACK!!! “…strong…” THWACK!!! “…Corporal…” THWACK!!!

Hartman knew that any of these words might be his last…

“Damn…” THWACK!!! “…right…” THWACK!!! “…Captain…” THWACK!!!

McGann resigned himself to dying a hero side by side with his Captain… THWACK!!! …but he’d never broken… THWACK!!! …”Death before dishonor… ”

But then…

a distant shout…

a spray of gunfire…

a guard near Tong now whipped out a pistol and pointed it at the commandant as guards all around them dropped dead from bullets fired by unseen gunmen…

…troops rushing into the camp… shouts… “We made it!” “They’re still alive!”

Tong dropped his bamboo pole and lunged at the pistol-wielding guard, who fired into the commandant’s shoulder… Tong dropped to his knees as five or six men from Hardman’s platoon rushed up… “DON’T MOVE!” the guard barked at Tong as the tortured bodies of Hardman and McGann were caught up by strong friendly arms and released from their bondage…

Tong, enraged at being deprived of his prisoners, got to his feet roaring with anger… but another bullet found his left thigh… he staggered… and Hardman, gathering his last ounce of strength, lashed out and kicked the wounded commandant into the trough, where the current killed him instantly, his juddering body splashing and thrashing in the fatal water…


“So you’re the mole who saved our lives.”

“Sgt. Matt Rayne, sir.” The pistol-wielding guard–or so Hardman and McGann had thought–saluted his Captain as the two naked, beaten men were helped into the back of a truck. Enemy bodies littered the ground of the camp, but the two soldiers who thought themselves seconds from death were laid out to rest on stretchers as medics tended to the scars and bruises of their torture. “Sorry you had to go through all that, but I couldn’t do anything until backup arrived.”

“I understand, Sergeant. I’m sorry you had to watch it.”

“I wanted to be on hand to ensure that Tong wouldn’t escape. So they sent me ahead to infiltrate.”

“Brave move, soldier.” Hartman looked admiringly at the 25-year-old. “They would have tortured you too had they found you out.”

“I knew you’d hold out until the rest of the platoon got here, Sir. This kid too.” Rayne placed his hand gently on McGann’s shoulder as the Corporal smiled weakly. He was already thinking what a great story this would make–how it would awe and impress the other guys to hear of the tortures he and Hardman had survived.





1 thought on “The Captain and the Corporal (Complete) – by Ragnar

  1. You’re more than welcome! It’s awesome to have a community with whom to share these fantasies. Makes it even more arousing that just writing for myself is. And thanks to Amalaric for the image that was my inspiration, and to the MMA fighter/Marine who was Amalaric’s inspiration!

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