Mitchell's Art for October - Captive Soldier Milked

Mitchell - Captive Soldier Cuffed, Gagged, Milked

When Corporal Tom Culver had been captured he'd expected to be grilled for information, but not like this. Nothing in his training had prepared him for this. He 'd been stripped to his underpants in his prison cell before they'd brought him here. Then they'd led him through the enemy camp, hands cuffed behind his back and the opposing soldiers they'd passed had stared at him, amazed at the sight of the scantily-clad captive passing amongst them and nudging each other knowingly.   

The Guards left him in the Interrogation Room, standing at attention as nearly as he could, with just this single Officer there with him. He sat behind his desk and looked at him, without saying a word. Culver was anxious anyway and feeling as if the man's eyes were scanning every inch of his body, he soon began to fidget uncomfortably, shuffling his bare feet on the wooden floor. To break the silence he recited his name, rank and number as military regulations required him to do, respectfully finishing with the obligatory "Sir!". 

It brought no response at first, then the Officer smiled thinly and got to his feet, chair creaking as his weight lifted from it. The Officer's leather boots creaked too as he skirted the desk and came to Culver's side, so close that Culver could smell the leather of his shoulder belt.

"Thank you Corporal". The Officer spoke quietly with a distinct accent, "but I will let you know you when I want you to speak ....or to make some other noise" he added with a strange smile. He rifled in his pocket and said "Open your mouth". Culver hesitated, starting straight ahead, then as the silence lengthened, he obeyed. "Very good Corporal" the Officer said and stuffed a wad of fabric into his open mouth. It was still warm from his pocket. Then he tied a strip of fabric round the Corporal's head to hold the gag in place. "There, that should remind you" he said, "Now is not the time for talk".

He put his arm round the back of the Corporal's shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. "Let's get to know each other first. I expect you feel a little nervous, but there's no need to be". As he spoke his free hand began to trace across across the contours of Culver's chest. "You're a fit soldier, I approve of that" he said, his fingers working their way down across his undulating abs until they reached the depression of Culver's navel and gently pressing on the wrinkled knot invoked a penetrating sensation Culver had never felt before. Further down he followed the waistband of Culver's underpants left and right then slipped a thumb just inside and plucked it gently. "A manly garment" he observed, "functional and modest". Culver quivered as his hand drifted across his rounded pocket framed by the branching Y-seam and gently stroked it. He wanted to break away but did not dare, he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten. "Don't be frightened" the Officer cajoled him.

Suddenly the roving fingers poked into fly opening of his pouch, questing within, Culver twisted away but the arm across his shoulders had dropped to waist level and pulled him back, lifting him almost off his feet and denying him leverage. While he hesitated about resisting more actively his cock was winkled out of his haven with surgical efficiency and soon drooped forlornly out in the open. 

The Officer released him. "Thank you Corporal" he said and began to remove his jacket. Draping it over the desk, he unbuttoned and rolled up his shirt sleeves. "My colleagues would have you in agony by now" he said "but I use other ways". He flicked open the top two buttons of his shirt to reveal a glimpse of muscular, hairy chest. "Both ways are hot work" he smiled and Culver quailed as the restraining arm snaked round his waist once more pulling him into an aura of manly sweat.. 

Over the next ten minutes the Officer's quiet voice coaxed Culver into a completely relaxed state. As his fear of pain receded, his determination to resist faded with it and soon the hand gently manipulating his manhood began to elicit a response. Once that had started there was no stopping it. Released from the shackles of fear and drunk on the warmth and comfort of close physical contact, Corporal Culver gave up much more than he had ever intended to.

Only then did the Officer return to his desk and pull from his top drawer a riding crop.

~ 

This is a picture that reflects my long-standing passion for underwear, particularly in traditional, white formats like the Y-fronts seen here. It's been rekindled by the ongoing Amalaric Art Series which features an unending parade of undergarments of this type. In captivity it's shaming and creates a sense of acute vulnerability - as Corporal Culver will testify if he ever gets the chance.

~

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