After their game of kabbadi, the jawans were marched off to supper, and Akhtar thankfully joined them. Dinner was plentiful and good, and once again the NCOs mercifully left the troops alone.
While eating, Venugopal's eyes kept straying to the table in the middle of the room, where the soldiers of the second squad were sitting. He could see Baliga. Baliga paid no attention to the Tamilian soldier gazing at him so hungrily across the room. He had enjoyed groping Venugopal during kabbadi, but he was aware that he was pretty and fair skinned (considered highly desirable in India but not necessarily by the hairy perv who fetishizes black boys) and had several jawans and NCOs pursuing him.
After supper, the soldiers marched back to their barracks, but Akhtar went over to Guruswamy's office. He knocked at the door, and Guruswamy barked, "Come in."
Akhtar stood at attention in front of Guruswamy's desk. Guruswamy was sprawled in his chair. "Come closer, " he barked.
"Ha Sahib, " said Akhtar. He still had his rifle because he had not returned to the armory with the other soldiers, and he had awkwardly carried it with him to the mess hall.
"Now, " Guruwamy said, "I am going to inspect your rifle, and for every flaw I am going to punish you."
Akhtar's heart sank. After kneeling out in the hot sun for several hours, he was in no shape for punishment. Just standing in front of Guruswamy's desk, his tired legs were trembling. But he managed to yell out, "Ha Sahib, " in his best military manner.
"What is the worst punishment one man can inflict on another?" Guruswamy demanded.
"I don't know sahib, " said Aktar feebly.
"He can kiss him, " said Guruswamy.
Akhtar realized that some sort of game was being played. Guruswamy unable to acknowledge his desire for men would treat it as a form of punishment. He was more than ready to play this little game.
"Is there any worse punishment, oolo?" demanded Guruswamy.
"He could stick his susu part up the other man's arse, sahib, " suggested Aktar.
Guruswamy menacingly added , "Or his fist or the end of that rifle till _s_h_i_t_ and blood gushes out of the bastard."
Akhtar flinched. He didn't think he liked the variations that Guruswamy was suggesting to the desirable pleasures of being _f_u_c_k_ed.
Guruswamy snatched Akhtar's rifle away from him. "Baanchooth. Here's an uncleaned spot. Come here and sit on my lap."
Akhtar perched on Guruswamy's lap. The NCOs thick hairy hand enfolded him tenderly against pressing him against his stomach. He leaned forward and softly and tenderly kissed Akhtar on the lips. Akhtar's dick leapt up and pressed urgently against the rising tent in Guruswamy's trousers. Then, Guruswamy's tongue thrust invasively into Akhtar's tender boyish mouth, tangling with his sweet soft tongue. NCO and jawan spit and precum, yum yum.
Suddenly, with an unexpectedness that Akhtar found erotic, Guruswamy switched from tender to rough. He bit down on Akhtar's lip, hard enough to make the private yelp, but not hard enough to draw blood. Then, he pushed the jawan off his lap, swivveled the slender boy around, and drawing back his foot, kicked him hard on the back of his thigh. With a cry of protest, the Muslim boy fell forward, displaying his balls and his winking ass hole. Guruswamy with his thick index finger thrust deep into that ass hole, and he then yanked his finger out, exhulting in Akhtar's yelp of mingled pleasure and pain.