Deshpande cycled off, but his mocking laugher still seemed to hang in the air.
"Those bastards are making us a laughing stock with the other NCOs," hissed Guruswamy. "The little _f_u_c_k_ers are going to have a long hot afternoon." Despite his genuine irritation with the recruits and his discomfort at looking a fool in front of Deshpande, Guruswamy was simultaneously aware of his _c_o_c_k_ springing eagerly to life at the prospect of torturing his miscreant platoon.
"Don't you have an appointment with the Major?" asked Jayachandra.
"Oh _s_h_i_t_. You are right," cried out Guruswamy regretfully fidgeting slightly to try and make his rampant _c_o_c_k_ settle down in his tight military trousers. "You will have to teach the _f_u_c_k_ers."
"Ah," said Jayachandra with a mocking grin, "The life of an NCO is a difficult one. How am I going to find the strength and patience to punish those boys?"
"Think hard of Bharat Mata (Mother India)," said Guruswamy in tones of mock piety. "Be sure to think hard. I didn't say get hard. Oh, by the way, I need Akhtar to clean out my office while I am visiting the Major. I will take care of his punishment myself."
Jayachandra had no objection to letting his superior's pretty catamite off the hook. It would have been fun marking up that girlish Muslim faggot, but he was off limits as Guruswamy's chosen bumboy.
Jayachandra strode off toward the parade ground. Ferociously he yelled at the platoon that was some way off, "COME HERE. DOUBLE TIME!"
Then he strode back to the small maidan (field), informally known as "the punishment maidan" since mass punishments of platoons were carried out here while the drill was usually carried out on the main parade ground.
The soldiers began jogging toward the maidan, counting out the cadence, "Aik dho, aik dho (one two; one two)."
"Aalt," barked Jayachandra. The soldiers halted. "Akhtar, go to Guruwamy sahib's office and tidy it."
"Ha sahib," cried out Akthar smartly, forcing himself to control his smirk. This was turning out marvelously. Not only was he getting a grade A _f_u_c_k_ing from Guruswamy, but he was escaping the punishment of his squad mates.
"Mark time," barked out Jayachandra.
The soldiers began jogging again. "Eighk dho, eighk dho, eighk dho." Clouds of dust rising in the air.
The recruits were savvy enough to raise their knees high, but in the interests of terrorizing them, Jayachandra pushed roughly into their ranks and at random, grabbed Sachdev by his collar. "Raise your knees you _f_u_c_k_er."
"Ha sahib," gasped Sachdev, half strangled by the NCO's ferocious hold.
"Oopur (up), oopur, " screamed Jayachandra while the boy desperately strained to raise his knees higher. "That's no good. Kneel _f_u_c_k_er."
Sachdev dropped to his knees, in the midst of clouds of dust and pumping boy recruit feet, the yelling cadence swirling above him. Jayachandra grabbed the boy by his ears and twisting them savagely pulled his head forward, so the delicate white nose of the Punjabi boy was buried in the folds of his NCO's crotch. Sachdev, in the midst of the pain from his tortured, ringing, reddening ears, gasped with horror as he felt a hot, aroused bulge brushing against his nose. Could Jayachandra be planning to _f_u_c_k_ his nostril? Then Jayachandra jerked his head out of his crotch and still holding one ear with one hand, he savagely cuffed the boy's head with the other.
The other terrified recruits raised their knees as high as humanly possible, sweat trickling down their cute black, and brown, and golden brown faces. Butterflies fluttering in their stomachs as they waited for the even more severe punishment that lay ahead.
Ah, the enduring joys of military sadistic phaggotry?