While Guruswamy and his catamite Akhtar were enjoying their painful pleasure (pleasurable pain), the other recruits got ready for the night. They were allowed a little free time, and at first they were quiet, cowed by the events of the day. But soon noting that neither Guruswamy nor Jayachandra were around, they began talking louder, after all they were eighteen and nineteen year old boys. Jayachandra in fact was lurking just around the corner, just hoping that they would fall into his trap.
One of the boys' was giggling at another' joke and someone else was talking in a whisper when the barracks door banged shut with a violence that made several of the boys jump out of their skins. Jayachandra strode in, his eyes blazing, his lips thinly pursed. He was a good actor, of course. In fact, he was anything but mad; actually he was more than a little satisfied that the recruits had fallen into his trap. "Stand up baanchooths, " he shrieked. The recruits leapt to their feet and stood at attention. "Outside, " screamed Jayachandra. The boys rushed out of the barracks.
The parade ground was quiet, the moon high above in the sky. "Run around the parade ground till I am tired, " said Jayachandra sitting down comfortably under a tree. The recruits began jogging around the enormous parade ground. It was eerie jogging along silently in the dark. The first few rounds were not a problem, but soon there was a stink of boy sweat, and some of the recruits began gasping for breath. Around the eighth or ninth round, some of the recruits began to lag behind, gasping furiously for breath. And finally, Ramesh collapses wheezing to the ground.
"Aalt, " screamed Jayachandra. The recruits stopped huffing and puffing, trying to prevent themselves from holding their aching sides. Sweat streaming down their faces, sweat soaking through their white vests, sweat trickling down their crotches inflaming their crotch rot. Jayachandra strode over to Ramesh's recumbent form. The recruit attempted to struggle to his feet.
"No, no stay there, " said Jayachandra with mock gentleness. "Take all the rest you want. While you are down there though you need some entertainment. Everyone down." All the recruits dropped to a push up position. Ramesh struggled to his feet. "Now, "said Jayachandra. "You will do push ups for me and Ramesh, and we will keep time." Then swinging his swagger stick back, he hit Ramesh smartly on the arse. "Aighk." The boys dropped to the ground from the upright push up position, "Aighk sir." Crack, yelp from Ramesh, "Dho." "Dho sir." Menezes unable to hold himself up on his aching arms, and completely winded by his run collapsed to the ground.
"Oh, oh, " said Jayachandra. "That's not good. Let's do it again. "Crack." "Dho." "Dho sir." Crack. "Theen." "Theen sir."
Picture poor Ramesh standing in the dark, sweat streaming down his face, his sides aching, having difficulty catching his breath, waiting for the loud crack an instant hefore the biting stinging pain of the swagger stick, and just barely able to see in the dwindling light the figures of his fellow recruits grimly rising and falling.
After twenty push ups, the recruits hobbled back to their barracks and after getting a welcome drink of water, they were allowed to go to bed, at this point stinking of sweat. But they were not allowed to shower. By this point, Akhtar was back in the barracks, looking smugly pleased with himself. Like some of the other recruits he limped slightly. But he was not limping because of being made to run around the parade ground, he was limping because of the pleasurable pain of Guruswamy's _c_o_c_k_ being rammed up his soft, tender boyish asshole
The next morning the recruits went on their usual run and then came back for calisthenics. Noticeably this time at calisthenics there was far less arbitrary, random punishment. The soldiers shouldn't have been too sanguine though. The NCOs hadn't begun to lighten up yet. They enjoyed being unpredictable, varying from day to day from irrational violence to relative lenience to keep their recruits anxious and on their best behavior. While they were in the middle of their calisthenics, Captain Bose came up and called Guruswamy over.
Guruswamy strode over to him and saluted smartly. Bose said, "I'm sorry Guruswamy. There has been a hitch in getting all of our recruits. There was a bus strike. And Futardo, one of your recruits was held up in Goa. He's at the barber's shop at the moment. I hope his arriving late doesn't throw you off schedule." Guruswamy inwardly cursed. "No sir, " he said, but he was thinking this baanchooth is going to need special attention, he's going to be out of sequence with the rest of the recruits. The Captain thought for a moment and then said, " I know what I will do. I will ask Deshpande to train him. Deshpande had asked for time to visit his mother, but I'm sure he will agree to stay for a couple of days till Futardo caught up with his fellow recruits."
"Yes sir, " said Guruswamy, his good mood returning. It amused him to think that this baanchooth recruit was going to _f_u_c_k_ up Deshpande's plans. Deshpande was a tall, handsome Marathi NCO, and his sick mother was a standing joke among the other NCOs, code for the whores he enjoyed _f_u_c_k_ing when he was on leave. To please his officer, he was definitely going to stay, but Futardo was going to pay dearly, if he was going to be alone in Deshpande's supervision learning the basics of drill. The NCO would not forget that the innocent boy had caused him to postpone having his R and R (to shift incongruously from Indian to American military argot).