As I continued on my way, I suddenly saw an enormous parade ground (another parade ground from the one that was visible from the street), and my _c_o_c_k_ tented up sharply and my heart began to thump as I saw about two squads of jawans in formal uniform running across the parade ground.
In my youth, I had witnessed these jawans doing drill. Somehow they belonged to a different outfit from the boys who wore khaki shorts. These jawans wore olive green shirts and long olive green trousers with the same black berets that the khaki jawans wore. They seemed taller than the khaki jawans. Maybe they belonged to some kind of crack or elite group in the military because I seemed to remember that the discipline visited upon them by their NCOs was even more hairraising( or _c_o_c_k_ raising for the perv) that that visited upon the khaki jawans.
I scurried forward. Evidently, the jawans had been made to run across the parade ground. One jawan was grinning and joking as he raced across the parade ground with his fellows. I was too far away to really see his face, but the white teeth gleamed against his dark soft features. A Tamilian probably. Yum, yum, yum. The two squads rushed back to where their rifles lay and their two NCOs waited. I hurried toward a closer observing spot.
By the time I got there, the two NCOs (dressed in the same uniform as their charges) had ordered the jawans to run in the opposite direction. One jawan was being punished - - he had probably arrived last in the last run. He had been made to assume the push up position but on only one hand. The other hand was raised above his back holding his rifle high. Unfortunately, I was too far away to see his face which must have been flushed from the exertion and humiliation. (In my hopeful fantasy, he had gotten a blow or perhaps a boot in the arse before assuming his yummy position, but I must confess I did not witness it.)
Another jawan, I think the same one who had been grinning as I approached, cheekily seemed to be pleading with the NCO that his leg was aching, and he couldn't run any more. He rubbed his leg, grinning. The NCO swung his swagger stick in his direction, but the boy sprang away, holding out a protective hand, still grinning. Unlike the other soldiers he got away without doing his run and without further punishment. In my pervie way, I couldn't help speculating whether he did special favors for the NCO with whom he was flirting. I was too far away to see the jawans' faces, but those sweet black features and white teeth could have coaxed any favor from me, I must say, after I had slapped that black face hard of course and whipped that cute, perse black arse.
When the jawans returned from their run. The two squads formed two long rows. They were told to take their distance. One jawan must have been slower than the others. Suddenly without warning, one of the NCOs swooped down on the jawan in the first row. He grabbed his hand which was touching the shoulder of the next man in the row, pulled it roughly toward him, and violently swatted the soldier's arse with his swagger stick. A report like a bullet sounded across the parade ground.
Unfortunately, I was too far away to see the jawan's face, but I speculate he allowed some expression to cross his face -- anger? surprise? pain? Anyway, the NCO pointed an angry finger at him and barked furiously at him to take his distance. Hastily the soldier took his distance again from his fellow.
I could only speculate on the terror of the two boys on either side of him, having to look straight ahead while they heard the bullet like crack of the stick making contact with jawan arse. Also, a turn on for me was imagining the boy who had been hit, eyes filling with tears of pain and humiliation, arse burning, ears still buzzing with the infernal crack of that stick, having to look ahead, trying to appear expressionless like a good soldier, attempting fiercely to concentrate on the commands, rather than the biting, burning, glowing pain emanating from his behind.
Sadistic faggotry for ever!