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!
Aquadude
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THE CAPTAIN AND THE CORPORAL
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
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CHAPTER 1
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. Continue reading →