Cigar Night 03

Commander's Presentation

The music remained low, as the gathered Officers counted their spoils, and bragged to each other, as they multi-fukked the various ca$h$laves who had just presented tribute

Fresh whiskies and cigars were ordered in readiness for Sarge Muir's Commander presentation. This took the form of a live demonstration.

The partition opened again, the light almost completely blocked out by COMMANDER "CHIEF" SCHULZ's leathered mass. All Officers stood to attention, kicking their subs out of the way, and unsheathing their cocks out of the fuckstools.

The Station Commander walked through his command of saluting Officers, and shook gauntlets with his Sergeants. "At ease, men."

CHIEF made his way to the boxing platform at the back of the gym area, the steps creaked under his 300 pounds of muscle, leather and steel. CHIEF took his place on his throne which had been moved, from his private playspace in the basement, and signalled for a cigarslave.

Three naked massive muscleslaves climbed up to CHIEF, and knelt before him. The first offered CHIEF's box of custom-made, limited-edition 140 Bazukas for his inspection. CHIEF took one out, savoured the aroma, and handed it to a second kneeling slave, who prepared the end with an large-gauge gold cutter. Bowing its head, the kneeling slave offered up the trimmed cigartribute to its Commanding officer who, putting the cigar in his bearded mouth, signalled for the third kneeling slave to stretch up to light the thick stogie with double matches, as CHIEF rolled the costly cigar in HIS lips, puffing out noxious blue fumes.

With a single motion of a gloved finger, two slaves then dropped to CHIEF's boots, greedily licking the edges of his gleaming size 13s, as the third assumed its position, face-first between its COMMANDERS breeches, opened mouth ready, close to CHIEF's already tenting pouch bulge. Entirely through practised cock-control, CHIEF's bloated cockhammer fully pumped up and punched its way through the access slit in his leather cod-pouch, the cock-helmet fisting the waiting pussymouth.

CHIEF had spent hours side-by-side with SARGE FLEX in front of the gym mirrors practising cock control as part of their posing routines.

This cockslave had been purchased especially at the last Cellblock slave auction for the cock-capacity of its throat, gag-reflex control and fellation technique.

Cocked and loaded, CHIEF gestured he was ready for HIS presentation and what Sarge MUIR had devised for the entertainment of the Command.

SARGE 'WOLF' MACK ON CELLBLOCK DUTY DESK.