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Disabled Cadet
Part 2 – Raw Recruit

by Navy Cadet

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 16 Feb 2018

Downton lay in the bottom of the boat as rolled over the waves. They had been chugging out to sea for what seemed like a very long time. It had not been a comfortable trip. The steady beat of the engine and the icy water whooshing passed on the other side of the hull just inches from his face had been the only sounds. Neither of the cadets in the boat had dared to speak without their officer’s permission, and he was not in a talkative mood.

He had tried sitting up a couple of times only for the lighthouse keeper to shout at him to stay where he was. The second time he had tried the man had ordered Able Cadet Clay to make sure that he did not try again, which was why he now had one of the lad’s boots resting on the side of his head. He could smell the delicious scent leather polish seeping out of its mirror like toe cap, even over the reek of diesel which seemed to have penetrate every inch of the boat.

Eventually, a low roar began to make itself known above the sound of the engine. It was the sound of waves surging into rock. The sound was getting louder. The engine spluttered to a stop, and Downton heard the Keeper shout:

Grab the bow line Cadet West, and make sure that you tie it up properly this time.

Dowton heard a smart Aye, aye, Sir! called back over the sound of the surf, and the cadet’s on board burst into motion. Moments later they bumped gently against something solid, and Able Cadet Clay hauled him to his feet.

Welcome to your new home, boy.

Looking around, Downton found himself standing on a concrete platform a couple of feet above the waves. Other than the island he was standing on, there was nothing other than a handful of rocks to break up the vast expanse of water that surrounded him. The island itself was little more than a rock sticking out of the ocean, and dominated by the massive white tower that soared towards the clouds. He could see the cadets running cargo from the boat into the lighthouse, and soon found himself being hustled inside along with it. They pushed him up ladders until he stood panting on the level that had been set up as the corps dining room. The Keeper was the last to arrive.

Strip him. the man ordered.

He heard the Cadet’s boots drumming against the floor boards as they took their positions. One lad was so close that Downton could feel the warmth of the cadet’s breath on the back of his neck.

Don’t move, boy. the Cadet said, as he grabbed a fistful of Downton’s shirt. He pulled at it until Downton could hear the fibers starting to give way. Then there was a metallic click behind him. He felt a blade touch the back of his neck. The metal was like a shard of ice against his skin. It carved through the tight fabric, all the way down his back, and then onwards down his trouser leg to his ankle. As soon as the knife had done its work, the other cadets tore away the tattered remains of his clothes, until, all that remained were his boxer shorts.

It looks like this boy must have enjoyed watching that demonstration of naval discipline earlier. Clay laughed, as he pointed to the way they had been glued to the boy’s belly with his own dried spunk. But I wonder, is he is going to enjoy it so much when it is him on the receiving end?

With that he tore them away leaving Downton standing naked in front of them with his cock was sticking out in front of him like the bowsprit of a Man’o’War. He tried to cover himself, only for Able Cadet Clay to slap his hands slapped away.

Don’t you dare move, boy. You are being inspected. You need to stand to attention when you are with your superiors, but I don’t just mean that. The Able Cadet added giving his cock a flick, before stepping back to let the Keeper started to examine his body.

As the officer approached Downton tried to stand a little taller, worried what he would think. He felt the man’s fingers pressing into this throat. First up under the jawbone, and then beside his Adam’s apple. The Keeper held his fingers of his left hand there to check the boy’s pulse, while his right combed through the boy’s hair.

The man’s hands then swept down the boy’s neck, and across his shoulders. Downton felt them sliding down his loins. They roamed over his body with complete authority. The man’s confidence was magnetic. It pulled at him in a deep and primal way that made his dick so hard that it could have been made from rock, but his lust was laced with fear. He knew that if the man went any further he was going see the way his damned foot was twisted, and the scars from all the times the doctors had gone in to try to straighten it. There was no way he could miss it, and then what was he going to say?

For all of his life Downton had been made to stand and watch while everybody else did everything that he wanted to do. You cannot possibly do this. You cannot possibly do that. He felt he had spent his whole life being told what he was not be able to, when they had never even let him try; all because of his damned foot. He knew that they had the best intentions, but it felt like he was being smothered by the cotton wool they had wrapped him in. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Was it going to be the same here? Were they going to reject him in the same way? Was he going to find himself dumped back on the beach, rejected because of his foot, just like all of the other times?

He held his breath, unsure as the whether he wanted that or not. But the man moved on without even mentioning it. His hands retraced their journey back up the boy’s legs, until they were hovering around his crotch. Downton felt a strong hand circle around his balls.

Bend over, boy.

Downton obeyed before he realized he was doing it. He bent down and grabbed hold of his ankles in order to present his naked backside to this stranger that he had never met before. A few hours ago he would never have dreamed of doing that for anybody. Now, it seemed unthinkable not to obey. He felt the man’s finger touch the entrance to his most private place. Instantly, it clamped shut, but that was not enough to prevent the man from forcing his way inside.

Does it hurt, boy? the Keeper asked.

Yes, Sir.

Good. the man replied, and pulled his finger out. You may stand.

Then he turned to his waiting cadets.

His hair will have to be dealt with in order to make him presentable. Other than that, he will do. Prepare the boy for training, and then bring him down to the drill square.

Aye, aye, Sir! the cadets replied.

Able Cadet Clay pulled a pair of clippers from a draw. He swept the unguarded clippers through his hair. As each clump fell away Fenchurch swept it up and threw it on the flames, until there was nothing left but stubble. Next the Able Cadet did the same to his clumps of black pubic hair, but that was not enough. Downton heard a click as clay re-opened his knife and soon felt the cold steel gliding across his body. When he was done, Clay snapped the blade closed and stepped back. While he was admiring his work Cadet Fenchurch threw the shredded remnants of Downton’s clothes into the fire, along with the remains of his hair.

Right, all done. Go on, boy, have a feel.

Downton touched himself, and did not recognize what he was touching. His skin was as smooth as a newborn. The cadets had turned him back into a boy and tossed any sign that he might be anything else into the fire. While he watched, his old life curled up and turned into smoke in front of him. By the time that Cadet West returned with his new uniform there was nothing left but ash.

You are to be a cadet and so your body is now ours. I expect you to keep it as neat as the uniform we are about to issue you. There will be no more of those ugly civvies for you, boy. You will wear the uniform, or you wear nothing. Able Cadet Clay told him. Once you have decided which it is to be, Cadet West will show you to the drill square so that we can begin your training.

With that Clay strode away towards the ladder. When he reached it he turned around to add: And donít get any filth on it, or this time it will be your backside that gets caned.

Then he was gone, leaving Cadet West behind holding a bundle of uniform. There was a jockstrap on the top of the pile. Downton pulled it on, and stuffed his rock hard cock inside.

Don’t just stand there, West, help me to dress. he ordered.

Aye, aye, Sir! nervous boy replied.

Downton like the sound of that. He liked it even more when he felt the lad’s warm hands on his body as West helped him to slip into his blue shirt. Able Cadet Clay wore three stars on the epaulets of his shirt, but this one had a plain set more like those that Cadet West wore. West then knelt in front of his fellow cadet and opened up Downton’s shorts ready for him to step into them. Downton promised himself that this would not be the last time he was going to have the junior cadet on his knees in front of him, as he tucked the shirt’s long tails into his shorts. A pair of long blue socks came next, followed by his boots and beret. Then, all too soon, he was in uniform and down on the concrete platform that acted as their drill square.

As he lined up with the other cadets Downton felt full of confidence. He had seen soldiers marching on television, and it just looked like walking in step with a bit of stamping thrown in. Even with his twisted foot, how hard could it be?

The Keeper called them to attention, and the other Cadets stepped off in perfect unison, parading effortlessly around the drill square. Their movements were so perfectly times it was as if they shared a single mind, and this made his own bumbling efforts seem even more clumsy. It was not just walking, as he had imagined, it was walking as re-imagined by some committee that could not agree on anything. The pace was too short. The arms swung too high. Then on top of it all his damn foot refused to move the way he needed to.

Each time he made a mistake the Keeper shouted at him to get back into step, and that only made him more flustered. The more he tried to concentrate on what his body was doing the harder it got to control it. Until in the end the Keeper’s face had turned red from screaming at the terrified recruit. He ordered the boy to step out in front of the rest of the squad, and bend over.

Downton felt the man’s hands slide around his waist. He felt the fly buttons of his shorts pop open, one by one. He felt them slither down to his ankles. The Keeper flicked back the boy’s shirttails to reveal the pink buttocks that he was about to turn red.

Able Cadet Clay! I want you to hold the recruit down while I cane him. I doubt those buttocks have faced the cane before. I expected he will be screaming by then end, but we wouldn’t want him on report for failing to accept discipline on his very first day with the Corps, now would we?

No, Sir!

Clay strode forward and clamped Downtown’s head between his thighs. He heard the Keeper’s shoes crunch on the hard concrete as he took up his position behind them. The man stopped, and so did everything else. It was as if everybody was holding their breath. Even the sound of the waves seemed muted. He felt the soft cotton of the Able Cadet’s shorts tighten around his head. He felt the cadet’s fingers press to his side. He heard the cadet take a sharp intake of breath as the keeper pulled back his cane. The cane who whooshed down towards him, and bit into the soft flesh of his backside. Pain rushed through him. It was far worse that he had expected. He jerked upwards and yelped, but the Able Cadet’s firm thighs kept him in place.

One cut delivered, Sir!

The second cut was even worse. He tried to keep cries inside him, but it still managed to force it’s way out between his gritted teeth. Pain was part of life as a Cadet. He had to accept it, if they were going to accept him.

Two cuts delivered, Sir!

Downton knew were the next cut was coming. He could feel his buttocks tingling with anticipation. He heard the cane cut through the air, and then he felt it cut into his backside. The new welt burst into flames exactly where he had expected it, and his head still jerked up only to be stopped by the Able Cadet’s tightly packed crotch.

Three cuts delivered, Sir!

The pain burned through him. He grunted and took it. He knew that he deserved it. They had taken him in, and he had failed them.

Four cuts delivered, Sir!

The next stroke arrived moments later and stoked the lines of flame across his backside. The burning pain in his backside made him feel like a boiler that was about to explode from the pressure of holding it inside, but only a hiss like the sound of escaping steam managed to get through his gritted teeth.

Five cuts delivered, Sir!

One more to go. Only one more, Downton thought. He knew he could take it. He would take it. He would show them that he had what it took to be a Cadet, despite of the body that he had been cursed with. He tightened his grip around his ankles and willed the stroke to come so that he could show them that he could take life as a Cadet.

He heard the cane whistling towards him. He screwed up his muscles to prepare for the pain to come. The cane hit, and time seemed to slow down. He could feel it biting into his skin. Pain blasted through him like an electric shock. He could feel his body succumbing to the force of the blow. He could feel it squeezing the blood out of his flesh giving a moment of cool. Then it rebounded, and the blood flooded back like a wave of fire.

Everybody must have been able to see how much it hurt. They could see every muscle in his body straining as he struggled to stay in position. They were waiting for the scream that they knew was coming and ... silence.

Six cuts delivered, Sir! Punishment complete, Sir.

Clay released Downton from between his thighs letting the lad stand up and rub is throbbing backside. The pain of the caning had been unbelievable, but it was no different than the one he had seen the other Cadets take the day before. Then it hit him. He was being treated no different from the other cadets, because he was no different from the other Cadets. For the first time in his life he was not being marked out as the one that needed special treatment because of his damn foot. He threw up a shaky salute and walked back to his place in the line.

Squad! Squad, ho! By the right, dismissed.

The cadets came to attention and filed off the parade square. They marched smartly up to the Lighthouse, but once they got inside broken into a run to get back to the quarters as soon as possible.

Downton was the last up the ladder. By the time that he had arrived, painting, the other two cadets had already fallen in in front of Able Cadet Clay.

Right lads, watching a flogging always makes me horny. You know what to do.

The junior cadets dropped to their knees in front of their superior, who stood like a colossus towering over them. They unbuttoned his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles.

Downton watched Cadet Fenchurch kowtow to his idol so that he could kiss the Able Cadet’s boots. He watched the lad’s tongue lapping at the hard leather. Fenchurch planted a kiss on each bootlace, and then all the way up Clay’s long blue socks until he reached the lad’s muscular thighs. He paused for a moment to enjoy the smell of his superior’s sweat, and then carried on up until he had disappeared under the Clay’s shirttails.

While Fenchurch was working on the Able Cadet’s front, West was at his rear. He lapped at the moist space between his superior’s buttocks. Then took the straps of Clay’s jockstrap in his teeth and pulled it down to allow Fenchurch to get at the meat that it contained. Clay let out a low groan as he penetrated the moist warm of his subordinate’s throat. But other than that, he accepted the lads’ worship without a word. Pleasure was his right, and he knew it. It came with the three red stars that he wore on his shoulders.

Downton slipped out of the mess. He did not wear any stars, but his cock was still eager get out of his shorts and into one of the kneeling cadets. If this was an Able Cadet’s privilege, then he wanted it. He wanted to have a couple of his own cadets worshiping his boots. He wanted to feel their devotion to him. He had spent his life being told what he could and could not do, but with those three little stars, he would be in charge. He could order his cadets to do anything, and they would jump to obey.

Up in his own quarters the Keeper was looking out to the dark clouds approaching. Had he made a mistake? When he had been observing the new recruit had had seemed a bit clumsy, but now he had observed him on the drill square it was obviously more than that. Would it even be possible for a boy like that to reach the standard he needed? And if he didn’t, what then? Having brought the boy out to the Lighthouse he could never be allowed back to shore again if he was to keep his little Corps.

The winds were swirling the sea to foam besides their boat, and besides it he could see a solitary figure in blue. It was the new recruit. He saw the recruit was looking at the boat. The Keeper’s fingers tightened around his cane. Was the boy going to run? Was the boy going to run back to shore and destroy the Corps that had taken him so long to build?

The boy stood their contemplating his chance at freedom, but then he turned around. He brought himself to attention, and he started to march. The Keeper knew what was going on down in the Cadet mess below him. He could hear them. The other Cadets were indulging in all of the pleasures that their hard young bodies were capable of, but this lad had decided that he would rather practice his drill so to become a better Cadet.

The sky darkened, but Downton kept trying to march. Rain started to fall, but Downton kept trying to march.

The Keeper could feel his cock straining against his trousers as he watched his recruit struggle. He could see the rain soaking through the lad’s shirt. The lad’s long blue socks became heavy with it. Eventually the weight of water dragged them down to his ankles, but he only paused long enough to pull them back up before setting off again.

The recruit was not the only thing becoming moist. The Keeper wrestled open his trousers and his cock sprang out as hard as a bar of iron. He called for the duty Cadet. Cadet West appeared moments later, still tucking his shirt back into his shorts. A mistake like that would normally have earned the boy a belting, but this time all of the Keeper’s attention was directed out of the window at the recruit on the drill square.

Cadet West saw the state of his master’s rod and knew what he was expected to do. He knelt before the man and started to suck as outside, under the lashing rain, Downton finally found the marching cadence. Left, right, in, out, the man thrust his fleshy pace stick down the Cadet West’s throat in time with his new recruit’s footsteps. Left, right, in, out, Recruit Downton marched on into the teeth of a gale, and high above him his commanding officer filled his cadet’s mouth with spunk.

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