The MOSLA scout bags two more acquisitions...a pair of Army soldiers.

Modern Slavery - Chapter 4: Transit (Page 1)
by Amalaric
Series: Modern Slavery
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The MOSLA scout stuck to the local US Army base like a fly to a fresh turd. If the truth be told, his obsession was understandable, though it would have been frowned upon by those faceless bureaucrats higher up- a minor security risk; taking too many bucks from a single locale would attract unwanted attention…but the pickings were so damn rich!!! Even so, he was careful. Mindful of the job that paid so well and that he loved so much, snagging only a few now and then and, so far, things had gone well and no one at MOSLA had complained. He loved to sit in the car or, if feeling bold, get out and lean against the chain link fence, staring hungrily at the herd milling around the sprawling base on the outskirts of El Paso, hot sun beating down on the tortured hardpan, and the bucks most often stripped to baggy gym shorts as they ran their laps, jumped their jacks or just marched around with mindless zeal, in that case all sexily clad in crisp camo fatigues, white tees blazing in a bold ‘V’ under gaping collars begging for someone’s itchy fingers to fumble some buttons and get the lads acquainted with a taste of real discipline. The eager scout was happy to help things along but envied the snare who would complete the job and, far more so, the eventual buyer with the time and cash to enjoy the goods. Well, everything in proper order as he banked his money and hoped for eventual promotion to the status of snare.

He leaned back against the plush seat of his vintage Mustang and considered a couple of possibilities. Tracked for at least a month and surreptitiously researched, the scout was reasonably certain that a double take down was not only desirable, but imminent. That would put a fortune in his bank account, rate a much-deserved holiday at Club Med in Cancun, and (hopefully) flag his progress evaluation for the eagerly anticipated promotion. The set of studs were known buddies and that would go down well when their disappearance was reported, sort of a consensual deal, plotted together as the pair went AWOL for linked reasons impossible to fathom. Ethan Muller was the real score, all lean muscle and furry masculinity with handsome looks and a personality that would drive some abstractly militant Arab sheik flush with petro-dollars wild with pleasure. He was a flag-waving patriot and aficionado of classical music (on the sly), a veteran of advanced training in counter-espionage, including resistance to interrogation, and just plain killer good looking. At a mere twenty-three, Ethan was something of a rising star, and that was a little risky…but the hairy young buck was just too good to pass over, fairly begging a tag and eventual capture- he would provide days, and months, if not years, of intense pleasure as training progressed and his hard and hairy body was broken to the will of a determined master. Yeah, Ethan was a keeper and the scout was confident that the call would be appreciated…and then there was Ethan’s side kick, Tim Collins. Not quite as good looking, Tim, nevertheless, was no slouch; with a sultry, punch-me-please look of insouciant arrogance, aware that he was an eligible stud and reveling in it, kind of like Val Kilmer minus the bank account. Well, Tom Cruise would wait for another day- this pair would cap months of diligent stalking and the scout smiled as he made the final call, alerting the local snare to the details and, clicking off his cell phone, drifted back to dreams of the next scenario…if only he could score that coveted promotion.

Ethan Muller woke to another day that seemed like any number of others. He lived off base in some faceless lower middle class enclave on the outskirts of El Paso, good enough in the short run, functional and, besides, who gave a flying fuck if the grass died in the endless dry season? Ethan was a man’s man, hoping for a career in the highly competitive ethos that was the US Army and confident that he would succeed. He never considered any alternatives, but the strapping soldier was young and could, perhaps, be excused for his lack of imagination. He rolled over under the sheet, sweat slick already and vaguely lusting for a morning shower in the dry morning heat of summer time in the arid American southwest. Clad only in a pair of baggy plaid boxers, the tall stud stretched and contemplated the dawning day. He hadn’t heard the snare slip quietly into the apartment twenty minutes before and even now, as the still invisible sun began sending pearly tendrils of light over the eastern escarpment, Ethan unconsciously lived the last few seconds of precious illusion, assuming he was free and that all manner of things would somehow be well. The black clad figure looming in the bedroom doorway moved with the grace of a big cat; all coiled power and sleek silence, crossing the room in a couple of strides like a malignant, nearly imperceptible breeze. Ethan, for all of his vaunted training, was caught unaware in mid-stretch, casually scratching his crotch as the snare closed the gap behind him and a chemical soaked rag was clamped over his handsome face. No struggle, no drama- the hairy young soldier didn’t even have a last thought. ‘Back to sleep, big boy, we’ve got a ways to travel and, well, when you wake up…it’s going to be a brave new world you find yourself in. Are you brave??’ The snare sighed with pleasure and stripped the sheet off the boxer clad form of the unconscious buck, newly bagged and ready for wrapping.

Though MOSLA did everything in its power to ensure a smooth operation, a large part of that being an intense desire to remain well clear of the law and any unwelcome or uninvited scrutiny from the general public, there were certain procedures that represented unavoidable risks. These often depended on circumstances and nearly always occurred sometime in the first few hours as the newly captured bucks were taken down and brought into the anonymous safety of various levels of MOSLA enclosures. For this reason, the snares were trained carefully and paid exorbitant wages. Vetted largely for their instincts and ability to keep cool under pressure, the snare needed a sharp mind able to plan creatively and react to any number of unlooked for circumstances. The black van was parked, as unobtrusively as possible, in an alley behind Ethan Muller’s tacky apartment building. A back entrance had already been scouted and the snare knew he had to move quickly, crossing an incredibly dangerous few feet of open space between two doors- one the back entrance to the apartment and the other cold black metal with darkened windows. It was imperative to move before the sun lit up the scene and the concurrent pace of possible traffic sprang to life. Ethan was dragged limply from his bed and laid out on the carpet. The snare, thoroughly professional, nevertheless took a few precious minutes to scan his prize, stretching the unconscious stud on his back, hands over head and bare feet pointed toward the shadows of an open closet. Nice…very nice!!! Running a hand slowly over the ridge of stretched pecs- from damp, silky tendrils in the pits over the hard curve, lingering a while as a forefinger traced the perfect circle of one of Ethan’s nipples nestled in the short bracken of dark brown fur, down the arched rib cage to the taut belly; the long, supine form of the passed out buck, strangely passive as he slept all unaware, set the snare’s heart racing with lustful envy as he considered all that Ethan would endure in his new life. Knowing that precious minutes were ticking by, he nevertheless couldn’t resist the temptation to explore a little further, hiking the soldier’s boxers roughly down to his knees and whistling with appreciation as Ethan’s big cock and ample balls flopped out for quick perusal.


1 Comment

  1. scotts60143 - March 17, 2021, 9:12 am

    Another great chapter! An army base…just full of all those wonderful guys so ripe for the picking!! Also like the fact the snare gave into “temptation” and had to have a peek at that great hairy body!!

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