Say a silent prayer

“Guess you’re all mine now, cub.” His hand withdraws itself from between your thighs, moving to clamp down hard on your shoulder. “Turn around and get on your knees”.

Your legs almost give way from underneath you as you comply, sinking down into the sand. The trooper towers over you, your neck hardly reaching his waist at all, you’re left to peer up at him, his durasteel pelvis haloed in ouch sticks.

He lifts you by the head until you’re level with his helmet. Your toes drag on the sand.

“Be good, cub”

You can feel his hot breath through the helmet's exhaust ports. Rancid and sweaty. He eases you down towards his bulge. Your mouth feels dry and tinny, as your desire starts to boil over. You can see a sizeable erection pushing against his codpiece, inflating and exaggerating the shape of his armor. His rough hand and cold command have succeeded in making you steel-hard.

He eases you down, pressing your face against the armor sheath of his crotch.” You smell his cock flesh, cooked for days beneath the plate. Without releasing his grip from the back of your head, he loops his other wrist around the ass of his uniform and lets it drop to the ground. Your lips slide against bare skin. You’re nearly knocked out by his cock as it falls from its cradle, a massive shaved log, greasy with built-up oils.