Call of Submission

It has been over a decade since the economic crisis that caused the establishment of HIVE, a superpower alliance between the world’s oil-rich nations. Ghost, an international special forces unit of super soldiers, is the last stronghold preventing HIVE from global domination. Carter and the other remaining ‘ghosts’ have been dispatched on a black-ops mission to track down and terminate Striker, an ex-member of Ghost, who had been captured and brainwashed by HIVE years prior.

Time: 00:05  |  Year: 2056  |  Location: HIVE Oil Rig, Mexican Gulf

It was those piercing blue-green eyes staring back at him through the darkness that made Carter sure: Hive may have maimed his mind and named him Striker, but his brother-in-arms Gabe was still in there somewhere. What had meant to be a simple get-in and get-out operation had just got a whole lot more complicated and personal, as he now tasked himself with another mission: to get his friend back. He had lost him once and wasn’t going to let that happen again. Striker, however, under the mind control of Hive, had a much more straightforward mission: eliminate Carter. So, there they stood, two super soldiers suited and ready – one facing his foe, the other facing his friend.

Carter readied his stance, and Striker clenched his fists, each taking a step closer as their eyes locked. Carter braced for impact as Striker charged towards him, and with a clash of strength and agility, the two engaged in combat. The deserted oil rig was now a battleground for their passion and conflicting desires, and the intensity of their fight was matched only by the intensity of their history. At first, Striker fought relentlessly, driven by the commands of his programming. His punches came with fury-driven power; left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook. Ducking, jabbing, dodging, stabbing. The way they were moving together almost in sync, each predicting the other’s move seconds before execution, reminded Carter of how they had once trained together as young recruits for Ghost – more often than not, ending with clothes being torn off and secret nights of erotic release. It felt familiar and yet different at the same time. This time around, he was limited to defence, skillfully evading the Striker’s deadly attacks but never fighting back. His heart pounded, torn between his call of duty and the burning desire to free Gabe from his brainwashed state.

But as the fight continued, Striker’s attacks grew less calculated and more desperate, sensing that Carter’s unwavering determination threatened his mission. As the fight peaked, a moment of weakness presented itself, and Carter seized the opportunity. Tackling Striker to the ground, he pushed his legs open and back with his knees, pinning him down. “I’m not gonna fight you!” he cried out, longing for a breakthrough. But as he forced himself on top of Gabe, he could feel his cock beginning to grow, pushing against Gabe’s clenched cheeks. The smell of his hair, the sweat of his skin, and the muscles of his thighs were hitting Carter like a déjà vu. “Don’t you remember this too? This feeling? My body?” he asked, searching deep into Gabe’s eyes for an answer. “You were my partner… my Gabe.” His words seemed to work because Striker stopped his struggle for a second, and his icy blue-green eyes flickered with a glimpse of realisation. But a cold and distant expression quickly masked the look of vulnerability. “Gabe?” he replied, his voice devoid of emotion, “Who the fuck is Gabe. My name is Striker!” he continued, “And you’re not my friend; you’re my mission.” And with that, Striker’s arm reached up and grabbed Carter by the neck. As if he weighed nothing, Carter was flung back into a window on the other side of the rig, where they both came crashing down with a thud.

“OK, Carter, quit playing down there. You’ve got ten minutes before these mother fuckers start raining down bullets. If you can’t contain him, I’m sending in the other ghosts, and we’re taking him out,” a voice came in over the comms. He paused to listen, and out there in the night sky, he could hear the fleet of helicopters circling above, eagerly awaiting to open fire on order. But Carter could see past Striker’s violence and attacks, recognizing the fear and confusion buried within. And the moment of breakthrough they’d just had, as brief as it was, fueled Carter’s resolve and gave him an idea. If words weren’t enough to bring Gabe back to his senses, a more hands-on approach might. Enough of playing defence, he thought; it was time to put his money where his mouth was and show Gabe what they had once meant to each other. And if he had to use force, so be it. With that, Carter pulled himself up from the shattered glass and reached for the closest bit of debris. With a grunt of anger and release, he sent it flying at the back of Gabe’s knees, causing them to buckle. In a heartbeat, Carter was at him again, grabbing his wrists and somersaulting off the side of the rig, twisting the metal around Gabe’s wrists.

With one hand, Carter ran his fingers through Gabe’s hair, yanking his head back as the other hand pried open his lips and started to push his cock in until it hit the back of his mouth. In and out he went, with long, wet, languid strokes, until his cock had grown to full size and was stuffing every corner of his mouth. Carter looked down at Gabe, watching intently as Gabe’s eyes rolled back and tears gathered in his eyelashes. He knew this view all too well and recognised the moments of pleasure that flickered through Striker’s look of anguish. His plan began to work, only encouraging him to be more forceful. “Remember who you are now?” he shouted down at him. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he spat down on Gabe’s face, rubbing it before registering an angry backhanded slap. “Oh, OK, we’re still playing tough, are we? Maybe this will help you remember,” he said as he got up and walked around to take him from behind. “This is going to hurt, but good thing you’re all jacked up on whatever Hive has been giving you, so you should be able to take it much harder than I ever gave it to you before,” he chuckled and pushed his throbbing cock deep into Gabe’s hole.

Carter was certainly not lying about going harder than ever before. Striker let out a muffled groan and felt his muscles starting to shake involuntarily. His escape attempts became futile as his body gave in to Carter’s control. With his hands held in place by the metal structure wrought around his wrists and his hips gripped by Carter’s big strong hands, he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape this one. So, biting down on his lip, he stared straight ahead and let Carter have his way. It was somehow releasing to be restrained like this – giving his mental imprisonment a more tangible, visceral form. By having something else to focus his attention on, he felt his racing mind starting to clear. And then there was the physical side of it that he couldn’t deny; being tied up and used like this was sending currents of ecstasy straight to his cock. He was already stiff as a rock, the tip weeping pre-cum so thickly that he could feel it soaking a wet patch into the front of his leather pants.

Carter was picking up pace, throwing himself forward ferociously whilst pulling Gabe’s full weight back to meet him. On he went, pounding in and out, as his balls swung and slapped Gabe’s from behind. Each forceful jerk jogged Gabe’s memory and brought them both closer to an almighty explosion. “This right here, submitting to me… this is your call of duty,” Carter said as he leaned forward and whispered in Gabe’s ear. Gabe’s eyes shot open, and as if coming from deep inside him, he let out an uncontrolled “FUCK… Carter!” Knowing he’d succeeded, Carter gave one final thrust with all his super strength and shot his load – his cock pulsing jet after jet of warm jizz inside. “Speaking of our call to duty”, Gabe grinned, “You may have completed this mission with just your cock, but if we’re going to get to Level 3, we need to find ourselves some other lethal weapons!”


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