Date: Tue, 19 Feb 2002 13:59:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Training The Marine, Part 12 (Concludes)

Here is the 12th and final part of my story "Training
The Marine" that you are posting in "Authoritarian"
and "Military".

Thanks!

Pete

TRAINING THE MARINE - Part 12

By Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

As you are reading this memoir, I suppose you have
guessed that my putsch against the old King and his
worthless sons was a complete success.  Had it not
been, all  traces of me would have been eliminated
from the record and I would by now be long dead, my
body broken in the mines, or, even though it is in
magnificent condition, nevertheless sold to the
Brazilian organ banks as an act of revenge against me.

I can't remember whether I ever did fuck the marine
again - certainly he was a pleasant plaything in my
Jacuzzi, and I remember the admiration of my friends
at having such a decorated slave for our pleasure - an
admiration that turned to astonishment when I told
them of his background and how I had "broken" him.
But one has so many slaves to fuck, that their bodies
tend to blur into one "composite slave".  It's not
really all that relevant, I suppose - after all, you
will remember that he was begging to be fucked again
by me, and this was the ultimate statement of his
complete domination.

My plans for my "army" were well advanced when the
Lieutenant made a short visit to update me on progress
personally - there are some things that you simply
can't say satisfactorily in e-mails and on the
telephone.  Especially for someone like me, who is a
skilled reader of body language and all the subtle
gestures and movements that a man makes involuntarily
when he is speaking to you, it's important to have key
subordinates in your presence from time to time to
ensure that they are still loyal, and that there is no
concealment of any facts from you.

He was, if anything, even more handsome than when I
had first seen him in Washington.  His new authority,
and the need to treat with some of the world's
toughest and most independent men, had dramatically
increased his self confidence and feeling of self
worth.  When a man has that inner confidence, it shows
through into his whole persona, and he carries himself
straighter and taller, and his face looks more
masculine.  The experience had turned an above average
man into a real example of all that's most desirable.
I wanted to order him to strip his clothes off and
fuck him there and then, but my usual sense of "duty"
prevailed and we discussed progress on our various
parts of the plan.

He had recruited by then some 35 of the 50 men I was
going to use, and had plans to "offer" another seven
in the next couple of days.  He also had "leads" to
the remainder, and was confident he could easily
complete the recruitment within the time I required.
I told him how the physical arrangements were going.

It was important that nothing like an "army barracks"
should be constructed, for fear of alerting the
authorities.  So I had had part of the old stables in
my town house converted to hold the men, and one of
the slave barns out at my estate.  Whilst they were
not therefore extremely large, this was all to the
good, as my plan was that all these men would learn to
live with each other in conditions of the closest
intimacy.  Inside each of the living quarters there
was no privacy at all for the men - they had to work,
sleep and play together in the same confined space,
with no possibility of concealing any part of
themselves from their fellows.

The large room had 26 bunks arranged in a row 13 long,
one on top of the other.  There was only a minimal
space between adjacent bunks, just sufficient to allow
a naked man to squeeze in and get into bed.  You may
wonder why only 26 - I did not intend for the men to
sleep in shifts, rather that two men would always
share a bunk (and the odd bunk would be for an
occasional guest, or a slave to be fucked as the men
wanted).  My scheme was that there would be a
rotation:  on the first night, a man could sleep with
whom he chose.  On the second night, he was required
to sleep with a man whose number appeared next to his
on a list pinned to the wall - over a cycle, he would
therefore share a bunk with each of his fellows.  On
the third night, a PC just inside the door generated
random pairings for that night.  On the fourth night
the man could again choose his companion, and so on.
There was thus an excellent balance between the man's
need to be able to sleep with a chosen companion (and
I hoped that strong one-on-one pairings would
develop), the need that all the men should bond
together to some extent and thus needed to sleep with
all the others without exception, and the element of
surprise and excitement caused by the random pairings,
to prevent things becoming too predictable.

There were of course no walls between the sleeping
quarters and the open shower area, or that and the
lavatories.  These men had no need to be ashamed of
showering with and in front of their comrades, or,
indeed, of carrying out the natural functions like
defecation.

There was no need for lockers or cupboards, as the men
would have no personal possessions - once in my
"army", a man would have everything he needed provided
by me, and would replace the tawdry things with which
so many soldiers in other armies surround themselves
(stereos, cars, and other "boys' toys") with the true
companionship of their fellows.  Their only
requirement was to train, and train and train ready
for the tasks I had in mind for them, and to bond
together as a unit where each man could rely totally
on his comrades because he knew and trusted them
totally and intimately.

I intended that the men should stay in my town house
during the week, and move with me to my estate at the
weekend.  Five of the men would be my personal
bodyguards at all times on a rolling schedule, with
the remaining 45 continuing training.  Even though I
specified that all the men were to be virile and
strong (and it is of course unlikely that any slothful
or fat men would be in the groups from whom they were
selected), I did not intend to fuck any of these men -
desirable though they would be - as it was important
that their loyalties should be only to the group as a
whole, and that they should look only to their
comrades for all forms of companionship and enjoyment.

The lieutenant saw my plans for the modifications that
were being carried out, and was in full agreement.  He
was of course included in the 50, as I did not want
there to be any artificial distinctions between
"officers" and "men" - he would need to control these
individuals by the sheer force of his personality and
superior education and training, and not because of an
artificial set of rules said that he had to be obeyed.
 He would need to demonstrate his superiority in all
things - planning, tactics, the giving of sensible
orders, the administration of punishments when they
were necessary, and, or course, the comforting and
support of the men at all times if they were for any
reason depressed or upset.  He could not do any of
these things if he did not know his men intimately,
and I questioned him closely to ensure that he had
recruited men who would quickly adapt to the
conditions under which they were to live.

The lieutenant told me that I had been right in my
assumption that the men we were looking for would not
come just for the money:  when the concept of the
elite force, bonded together in manly pride, was
explained to them, they could not wait to join us.
Some had questioned whether they would have to fuck
and be fucked, and it had been emphasised that the
point of living and sleeping together in such intimacy
was so that the men had no secrets from each other,
all was totally open: there was no requirement to fuck
your bed partner that night, or even to jerk him off.
But you did have to sleep close together, in the
forced intimacy of two men in one standard bunk, else
otherwise how could you ever get to truly know the
other guy?  My personal guess however was that they
would all be fucking within a week or so - if you
sleep pressed close to another man, and feel his cock
thrusting at you when he has those inevitable
erections throughout the night as he dreams, how could
you not want to firstly touch it and caress it, and
then move on to do the more intimate things that real
me do with each other?

Actually it was all surprisingly easy - the men came
into the country one by one so as not to arouse
suspicion, and initially I "farmed them out" to luxury
hotels and the houses of friends - I did not want an
elite subgroup of men forming of those who were "here
first".

I told you that on my last meeting with the Russian I
had given special instructions about him to my slave
handler, and these, too, had paid off handsomely.  I
had said that he was to be taught English - not the
halting English that some foreigners acquire and that
is so tedious to listen to, but the almost completely
fluent English that some foreigners master (like my
own French and Spanish).  With the special method of
language instruction you can use for slaves, this is
not difficult - it is of course a "one on one" tuition
(but actually a two on one, as you need two teachers
to be able to keep up the pressure - they work four
hours at a time, turn and turn about, but the slave
works a full 16-hour day).  Usually it's used for
teaching slaves who have no English at all the small
subset of the language they need to be able to
understand their masters' commands - it's strange, but
somehow these are always given in English - all us
cultivated Arabs speak it fluently, as you will know
from reading this memoir, and it does seem the natural
language for giving commands and instructions to lower
forms.  But in the case of the Russian, he was to be
driven, intensively, to acquire the whole language.

The slave sits down at the beginning of the course and
a ring is strapped securely around his balls leading
to a shock apparatus and a large switch on the table
in front of him.  The size of the switch is
psychologically very important, as the teacher sits
with his hand hovering over it and the slave needs to
be able to see this and know the consequences of his
mistakes.  The teacher then says something, and the
slave has to repeat it back.   Any error - any error,
even the most trivial - and the switch is touched and
the slave gets an unpleasant jolt of current to his
balls.  The teacher then repeats the sequence.

Early on in the training there is a great use of the
switch, and some teachers find it difficult to keep
punishing the slaves for minor errors, and hence they
are rotated every four hours.  The slave has to do a
full 16 hours because the intention is to drive his
mind and his ability to focus and concentrate to the
limit:  the combination of mental exhaustion and the
possibility of constant shocks drives him into a state
of high receptivity and the lessons become easier to
learn.  He's not allowed to sleep for all the
remaining eight hours, of course, as he is still
required to do hard physical exercise for three hours,
and this too contributes to his being pushed into a
more highly receptive state.

When he had been taught by what some see as a harsh
method, but which is generally regarded as being
absolutely the best when you need to learn a language
to a high degree of fluency extremely quickly, the
Russian really was perfect.  I've told you what an
excellent slave he was in bed - superb body,
physically accomplished, liking the whole process of
sex, and full of fun and joy - and his only
imperfection was the need to speak to him in Russian
or French.  Now, absolutely word perfect, you could
not hope to take a better slave to bed - I had two of
the most pleasurable nights I have ever spent with any
slave.  The language had even sunk in so deep that as
I fucked him he cried out in pain/pleasure with those
guttural and almost incomprehensible sounds that were
now based on English, rather than Russian.

I believe I could have kept him with me for several
months (not every night, of course, but as a slave of
my chamber who would always be there if that night's
selection proved to be unsatisfactory). I also looked
forward to a few evenings of merry sport with him
making a third, or even watching him in action with
one or more of the other slaves.  A higher purpose
awaited him, however, and I had to make the difficult
decision to forgo his body in favour of improving my
army.

Whilst I had the utmost faith and confidence in the
lieutenant, he was, as you know, ambitious, trained in
the finest military academy in the world, and ruthless
in his pursuit of the implementation of orders.  There
were many of my own personality traits in him (and
perhaps that's one of the reasons why I liked and
trusted him), and I know that my peers and
subordinates can sometimes see my quest for progress
and perfection as being a trifle overbearing and that
sometimes I can be too zealous in pursuit of my
objectives.  To bind the army together he needed
"softening", but I did not want to turn off those very
attributes and abilities that made him such a superb
choice as the commander in the first place.  I do mean
 "Turn off", of course, as men like us find it all but
impossible to "turn down" our natural abilities.  The
only sensible thing to do therefore was to complement
the lieutenant's abilities with those of the Russian -
he would laugh and joke with the men, and it would be
he who would make them cry out with pleasure and joy
during sex.

I sent the Russian along to the marine's guest suite
on his first night at my house - a night when he had
told me he was too tired from his travelling to be
able to properly appreciate me in bed with him (and
indeed this was true - his globe trotting in my
service did seem to have left him extremely tired).
The following morning he was, as you say, "full of
beans", and there was a marked change in his
demeanour.  I summoned the Russian to kneel by the
table whilst I breakfasted with the lieutenant, and he
blushed deeply when he saw the Russian's magnificent
naked body in the room with us.

"So, lieutenant, recovered from your travels?  Had a
good night's sleep?"

"Yes, sir."

"A full eight hours of sack time, as I think you say
in the marines?

"Yes, sir."

"Well, it seems to have done you a lot of good!  I
always say that a good night's sleep makes for a
healthy body, wouldn't you agree, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

He was blushing furiously by now, and I could tell
that he knew that I knew that he was lying, but not
seriously (I won't tolerate that from any
subordinate).  He had almost started to grin back at
me in response to him, when the Russian, crouching
there, let out a huge guffaw.   We all three started
to laugh uproariously, as we were all in on the joke
(all my guest rooms do of course have concealed
cameras, and I had watched the lieutenant and the
Russian fucking away for most of the night. There was
so much laughter, so much shouting, and such a tangle
of limbs as they shifted from one position to another
with bewildering rapidity that it was almost
impossible to tell who was the top and who the bottom
- actually, it didn't mater:  neither of them cared at
all, they were having so much fun).

"Well, lieutenant, having 'slept on it', do you have
any recommendations to make to me for a second in
command?"

"Sir, a man on whom I could rely would be helpful..."

"Quite.  Are there any of the men who you have
recruited who would be suitable?"

"Oh yes, sir.  There are several sergeants and a
couple of the men with very strong personalities..."

"But would that cause you a problem - if you were to
pick one of these ex-sergeants and give him power now
over others of the same former rank?"

"I suppose it would, sir."

"A difficult problem, lieutenant.  May I suggest a
solution?"

"Of course, sir.  You always seem to have a solution."

"There's a Russian officer I know, of the same former
rank as you.  He's used to commanding men, and had
special interpersonal skills we might use.   Since
leaving the Russian Special Forces, he has however
fallen in rank greatly, so I don't think we need to
fear him as a rival to you, with the same  rank!"

The lieutenant was grinning hugely by now, as he
clearly understood who I was thinking of.

"Sir, do I know this officer, did I recruit him?  I
can't remember anyone with that background....?"

"Well, actually, yes.  You do know him - rather
intimately, shall we say!"

I then commanded the slave to stand up, and continued

"Here' the deal, then.  You will take the Russian
slave you enjoyed so much last night as your
right-hand man.  We will not tell the others that he
was formerly an officer, or that he is now a slave.
He will of course remain a slave, as there is no
mechanism for releasing men once enslaved - and
anyway, he cost me a fortune, and if I were to free
him, I would have to take an excessive write-down in
my books!  But in all respects he can act like a free
man - he can be clothed, and work with you as an
equal."

"If I were to tell you that you and he would be the
'special' partners who had to sleep in the same bunk
every third night, I assume that would not be a
problem, lieutenant?"

"NO, sir!  Only for the guys in the bunks on either
side - they do look awfully close together - and they
might not get much sleep being in such close proximity
to us.  I don't think Sergei's capable of keeping
quiet for more than one minute when he's fucking or
being fucked!"

How interesting, I noted to myself.  He had only slept
with the slave once, but knew his name.  I always
thought of him just as "slave", or "the Russian".  And
how good it was to see the lieutenant finally free of
those old prejudices he had had when I first met him -
I could not imagine him then ever talking about his
partner not keeping quiet whilst fucking!

To cut a long story short, my army came together
spectacularly well.  The combination of the lieutenant
and the Russian worked as I had hoped - the one calmly
planning and ordering, and the other chasing around
and keeping everyone on track with his supremely
pleasant nature.  Just as had been proven in the
ancient Theban Army, and the Masei, keeping a small
group of men in close proximity, sharing all their
waking (and sleeping) moments, turned them into a
fighting machine that was, when I finally needed to
use it, invincible.  They fearlessly swept away the
King's army at the key strategic locations in the
capital, and with the palace, TV station, telephone
exchange, and electricity distribution under my
control, my  take over was complete almost bloodlessly
within 24 hours.

Before then, however, I had a lot of personal pleasure
from this army.  Each weekend they would accompany me
when I went to my country estate, and whilst their
living quarters there were almost exactly the same as
those in the city, there was a lot more space for
recreation.  Regular training was suspended, and "team
building" sports were the order of the day.  In the
hot sun the men played nude soccer ( a small coloured
ribbon around their necks identifying the teams), and
nude volleyball - always a pleasure to watch as their
cocks bob up and down most engagingly.  Everyone
enjoyed the swimming pool most of all, though, and I
too had much pleasure not just from watching the 50
toned, hard naked bodies splashing around, but joining
them in racing and in rather rough games of water
polo.

But what of my marine, with whom the memoir started?
You last heard of him in my personal Jacuzzi, being
fondled by me to amuse myself as the bubbles relaxed
me and drove away the day's cares.  He learned to be a
god fuck toy for my friends, and when I held little
parties and suppers for them, very often one would
command him out of the water to fuck him at the side.
He was generally regarded as being a most excellent
spectacle, and many men just enjoyed casually fondling
his cock and balls as they stuck out in front of him,
without proceeding to fuck him.

I had had a late meeting with the lieutenant and the
Russian (I will keep calling them that, even though we
know they are Andy and Sergei - I prefer not to
personalise my relationships with those who are still
subordinates too much), and had invited them to stay
to supper and before that, join me for a little
relaxation.

We were all together in the Jacuzzi, and I could tell
that the marine had recognised the lieutenant,
although his training as a slave held firm and he said
nothing:  only my carefully tuned sensibilities
noticed the way he was trying to make some sort of
contact, without showing any overt signs of it).  The
lieutenant did not however  recognise the marine -
although he had  asked me to find out about his former
comrades all those weeks before no more mention had
been made of it:  frankly, I believe he was just too
busy with all the tasks he had to recruit and train my
army, and meld the whole into the fighting machine I
wanted.

As one does when there are a group of friends together
relaxing, our talk soon turned to who was going to
have sex with whom (as a preliminary discussion to the
interesting question of who would then be top and who
bottom).  I told the lieutenant that I wanted the
Russian, as I had not had him for several weeks
whereas the lieutenant had him every third night - it
was only fair, I pointed out.

"But you need not be left out, lieutenant.  Whilst I
fuck Sergei, you can amuse yourself with the Jacuzzi
slave here  - he's not just good to look at, you know,
he's very skilled at providing you with all the other
pleasures of the body."

Sergei and I hauled ourselves out of the Jacuzzi and
started to kiss and caress on the tiled side -
although it's not all that comfortable on a hard
surface, there's something extremely sensual about
feeling your lover all over you when you are both
soaking wet from the Jacuzzi.  We had an absolutely
fantastic time, and after a bout of the most athletic
and enjoyable sex I can remember for a long time,
enjoyed each other's bodies in the shower, too - I
even dismissed the slaves who usually wash and
minister to you, as I wanted the pleasure of Sergei
handling me there.

The Lieutenant joined us as we soaped each other down,
and told me that I was indeed correct - he had had a
most athletic bout with the Jacuzzi slave. I again
enjoyed the feeling of the lieutenant's hard, lean
body as all three of us continued to shower - he never
stinted on his own training, and was known to try to
do even more than the hardest of his men.  He truly
was a commander who led by example.

As we sat over our supper that night, lolling against
each other and letting our hands drift casually to
feel a cock, or just enjoy the warmth of having it
rest between the thighs, the Lieutenant said

"Sir, something's bothering me.  I'm sure I know that
slave in the Jacuzzi from somewhere.  He so reminds me
of someone, but I can't place him."

"That's good, lieutenant, as I know the slave
recognised you.  It's good because he did not break
his slave conditioning and tell you that he used to be
a marine - no, more than that, he used to be one of
the four marines that was in your own special unit.
He was he one survivor from that mission that you were
unable to go on...."

"But you told me he had been sentenced to life.  That
he was being trained... You said he had a new
uniform..... "

"Careful, lieutenant, mind your manners!  Yes, he was
sentenced to life as you put it - life servitude as a
slave.  You know that in this country we don't allow
prisoners to sit idly in prison cells, they're made to
work - it's so much better for them.  And he was
trained - trained to forget his old life as a marine,
and become the perfect slave to have around a Jacuzzi
- pleasing to the eye, and, as you yourself found out
earlier, a perfect fuck!  As for the uniform.... Well,
don't you find it rather eye catching?"

"But I've fucked one of my own men...."

"Forgive me, lieutenant, but isn't that what you do
all the time now with my private army?"

The lieutenant looked furious, and I suspect he needed
time to adjust and to think.

"Sir, I must beg to be excused now.  It's late, and I
have to be up early..."

"Certainly!  But meet me here for breakfast at 05:30."

Sergei and I watched as the lieutenant dressed in his
uniform - it doesn't take long, as they all have a
simple one consisting of black boots worn over white
gym socks, exercise shorts that are cut so that the
elasticated waist lies just on the hips, leaving the
navel and the top of the ass crack exposed, and a soft
black leather waistcoat, always open to reveal the
centre line of the body and the occasional glimpse of
nipple.

I know that armies are supposed to wear all those
uniforms with belts and webbing and so on, but for my
small elite force this was irrelevant - all the
fighting they would ever do would be with rapid fire
automatic weapons in the streets of our city, and the
uniform they had was perfectly adequate for that.  I
wanted them to wear something that would emphasise
their bodies, to further reinforce to them the fact
hat they were an elite, and that they should take a
proper manly pride in their physical development.

The shorts were cut quite tight around the ass, but
the legs were  relatively wide.  The men had a choice
of jock strap or G-string to wear under them if they
wanted, but most sensibly elected to wear nothing -
the air circulating up the wide legs serving to keep
them a little cooler in our climate.   There was a
subsidiary advantage in that the legs were relatively
short, so if the men sat down, or lounged around, one
got interesting glimpses of their cocks and balls.

This simple uniform only had to be available in two
sizes - medium and large (although each man had his
own individual boots) - and this vastly simplified
laundry arrangements and so on.  The men could simply
throw off their shorts and waistcoats when going to
swim, for example, and pick up any set when they came
out.  All that tiresome necessity of having individual
lockers and changing spaces was there fore eliminated.
When men are used to intimate contact between their
bodies, why should they be concerned with wearing each
others' clothes?

As the lieutenant had gone off in a huff, the Russian
and I were free to pursue a whole night of passion,
and I was in an exceptionally good mood when the
lieutenant joined me for that early breakfast the
following morning.

"Sir", he began, hesitantly.  "Sir, I would like to
buy that slave from you."

"Which one is that, lieutenant?"

"The slave in the Jacuzzi, sir"

"You mean your ex-marine buddy?  Let's not mince words
here!"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'm sorry, lieutenant, but he's not for sale.
And if he were, I doubt that you could afford him.  A
prime piece of man flesh like that, fluent in English,
and completely trained as a fuck toy, costs hundreds
of thousands of dollars.  If you'd like a slave, go
out to the fields on my estate and pick one of the
workers - there are many there of almost the same
general physical characteristics.  They're only worth
a couple of thousand dollars each, and you can get a
lot of fun out of teaching them English, and of
course, how to fuck properly."

"Sir, I don't think you understand..."

"Yes I do, lieutenant:  you are doing this because you
are loyal to your men, which is to be highly
commended.  But there's no need - he's perfectly
happy, and, as you saw last night, has accepted his
new situation completely."

"But I'm not happy, sir.  I still think of myself as
an officer in the Marine Corps, one of the best jobs a
man can have.  And us marines do not abandon our
comrades, with respect, sir!"

"I was only teasing, lieutenant.   You have served me
excellently so far, and I have long been looking for
ways to reward you.  The slave is yours, as my gift to
you.  But have you thought through how you are going
to deal with the situation?   You can hardly own a
slave, living as you do with your men in the barracks.
 If you had one, they'd all want one...."

"No, sir.  He will be one of my men.  We are one
short, and I can introduce him as an ex-marine.  He
was one of the best and bravest fighters we had, and I
know he will fit in well in the new army."

"And how are you going to deal with the interesting
three-way situation you will then find yourself in?
You are loyal to your ex-comrade, which is why we are
here this morning.  But your second in command and
lover is the Russian.  How are you going to resolve
that little problem?"

"It's not a problem, sir.  Sergei and I are the same -
both officer class.  As well as being an absolutely
terrific soldier, Sergei is my lover, and my friend.
He makes me laugh, and we can lie for hours and talk
as equals - we both have been well educated, and know
the difficulties of command."

"The marine Jay", he continued, "Was one of the men in
my command and I told you we were an elite fighting
group.  But I commanded those men, and there was
always a difference between me and them, and the way
in which they dealt with each other.  I was an
officer, educated and trained to command, and they
were all grunt privates:  good men, brave, the sort of
man you would want with you  on the battlefield.  But
not the man you could spend a weekend with as you'd
have nothing to talk about.  They are just not
educated, and not as intelligent."

"So Jay will fit in with all the other men.  He will
enjoy their comradeship, and with his skill at
fucking, he'll have  an excellent start in this new
life.  When he comes up in the rotation, or if we are
thrown together randomly, Jay and I will fuck, just as
I do with any of the other men.  But Sergei is the man
with whom I will continue to spend my 'choice'
nights."

"Finally, sir, in letting Jay join your army, you are
not doing anything new - Sergei is still a slave, but
you are happy to have him in the army.  Jay is in just
the same position."

And so it was - the marine joined my army, and fought
bravely when I mounted my putsch to secure power.
Before then, though, there was an interesting example
of group dynamics at work.

The lieutenant and Jay discussed his body
ornamentation, and the arm bands and heavy ankle rings
were removed.  But it turned out that Jay liked the
feel of nipple rings, and whilst the heavy ones then
fitted were impracticable for a soldier, when they
were removed he had smaller ones to replace them.  I
had assumed that he would want the large cinch erector
ring removed, but Jay said he liked that, too - he was
proud of his cock, and enjoyed the way it was now so
prominently displayed.  There seemed to be no reason
not to allow it, so he kept it, and when the men were
all lined up in their uniforms, you could tell him
from a distance as the bulge at the front of his
shorts was so prominent.

On our weekends at my estate, I started to notice that
other men in the army were acquiring my house mark on
their asses - they had seen the brands on Sergei and
Jay, and thought that they made them look more manly.
Both Sergei and Jay had acquired reputations as being
amongst the best in the army, and so I suppose that
their fellows wanted to copy such leaders.  Initially,
the men who chose to do it were tattooed (I allowed
them free access to the estate tattooist), but once
twenty or so had had it done, the "leaders of fashion"
moved on and insisted on being branded!  When I think
of the pain branding causes slaves, these men were
truly proving their manhood by having my mark made on
their bodies voluntarily.

Within two more weeks, every man was branded!  Such is
the power of group conformity, that none of the men
wanted to admit to his comrades that he could not take
the pain.

Jay also set a fashion for cinch erector rings, and
five or six of the men also had this done, although
it's true to say that this fashion was not universally
adopted.

Looking back on those days, I think I was really
happy.  I was in command of a huge global business
empire that I had built almost single-handedly from
the small enterprise my father had started.  I was the
master of thousands of slaves on my estate, and I was
acknowledged by my peers to be the most skilled
trainer of slaves the country had ever seen.  I had my
private army, and those weekends when I mixed freely
with those 50 hard, brave men, were the most enjoyable
times of my life.

All that changed when I became ruler of the country.
The actual details of the take-over can remain for my
memoirs, but it was relatively painless and only a
very few of my army were killed.  I had to have the
king executed, for "crimes against the people", but I
allowed one of his sons to ascend to the throne as
titular head of state:  he remains completely
powerless of course, but is useful when other heads of
state visit our country - like the Queen of England,
it is he who has  to attend to all the tedious
protocol whilst I get on with ruling.  I really do not
know why the American President bothers to do both of
these things - surely he can see one is merely out
dated and unnecessary, and that he should focus on
doing the thing he fought to get elected to do and
presumably enjoys:  exercising his power!

That's what it's all about, of course: power.  Power
to change men's lives by my business decisions; power
to change men's lives by enslaving and training them;
and power to change the world by being the ruler of a
country that still supplies 9% of the world's oil
requirements.  I like power, and I enjoy exercising
it.  It's what I fought for, and now I have it, I am
not afraid to use it.   However I have to think that
my life is also duller now, as I have so little time
for other pleasures.

There is no way I could now find the time - even with
my ruthless delegation style of management - to train
another marine as I did that Jay (or the father and
son pair who followed him).  Of course I fuck a slave
every night before sleeping, as you do need to in
order to keep healthy.  But there's no time for
uproarious sessions in bed with one of those men with
whom sex is pure joy, like Sergei.  You could say that
I am the embodiment of that old Chinese proverb -
"Beware of wishing for what you want, as you may get
it."

And what of those three men I have told you about?
The lieutenant, Andy, is of course now the premier
general in our nation's armed forces, and is
remodelling them to employ some of the lessons in
soldiering that my "private army" so brilliantly
demonstrated.  Sergei is still his loyal helper, and
has some rank or other, but it is known that he is the
general's confidante and lover and so this is
unimportant.  After ten years it is good to see that
Sergei has lost none of his zest for life, and I
believe my general functions so superbly not only
because of his initial training in the marines, but
because he has the devoted love and support of this
man.  On those rare occasions when we can all make
time to be together, we reminiss about "the old days",
and, fortunately, this always leads to really good sex
- it's about the only time now that I really enjoy it.


And my trainee, the marine Jay?  Well, he's still a
grunt private, of course.  I have kept my private army
and they are my loyal and devoted bodyguards.  Jay had
neither the drive to advance, not the capability to do
so.  He is the perfect soldier, however, and recruits
into my private army look to him for guidance and
support in their first few weeks of their new life.

If I have done anything in my life, I can at least
claim to have taken three men from their routine lives
and given them an existence they would never have
dreamed possible.  Each in his own way is completely
happy and satisfied.  There's not many men who can
claim to have done that.

The End