Date: Wed, 6 Feb 2002 13:48:57 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Training The Marine, Part 6

Part 6 of the epic, that you're posting in
"authoritarian" and "military".

Pete

TRAINING THE MARINE - Part 6

By Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

I did not usually go to the office on Fridays, and
that being the next day decided to devote all my time
that morning to really pressing ahead with the slave.

As soon as I arrived and had fed him, I got out the
pillory yoke bars and told him to put them on.

"Stop looking so worried", I said in as cheery voice
as I could muster.  "No more branding - at least for
the time being, until I have had time to study your
body in more detail actually in action working at your
new job."

I went into the cage and was going to fasten the
pillory bar to the cage bars again, when I stopped.
It is of course absolutely ideal to give a slave his
first fuck when he is bent at right angles and held
securely.  Not only is his ass well positioned, but
there's absolutely no possibility of his thrashing his
body around at an inappropriate moment, but there's
some movement he can make if he tries to bend at the
knees, or shuffle from side to side:  just enough to
make it exciting.  The real advantage, of course, is
that clamped in that position he knows that losing his
virginity is absolutely inevitable:  it is completely
humiliating for him as you start to ram your member
home.

But something about the way he was holding himself
caused me to stop - he was looking as if he was almost
proud of what was going  to happen!

"Master....", he began hesitantly, "This is the day
you're going to fuck me, aren't you?  You're going to
fasten me to the bars again, then when I'm totally
helpless, you're going to stick that big dick of yours
up my ass."

"Yes, slave, you have guessed correctly."

"Know this, master, that I will never submit to you
voluntarily.  You can lock me up in the dark and cold
for as long as you like.  But you will only ever
manage to fuck me when I am completely helpless.  I'm
a man - a marine - not a slave, whatever you say.  And
marines do not take it up the ass, Sir!"

I was furious.  I was in a cold rage, and I could feel
that little vein in my temple starting to throb that
tells me my blood pressure is soaring.  Years of
meetings and negotiations have taught me to keep an
icy calm exterior, but inside I was seething.

My first thought was to leave him:  turn all the
controls to "cold", and simply leave him for a day or
two.   How could we have got to this stage in the
training and now have him defy me so openly?  Perhaps
it was my fault for rushing things - I should have
made him eat my cum two or three more times, or done
more conditioning by insisting he watched more erotic
gay films.  All my days of work were about to be
thrown away!

When faced with something unexpected from the enemy,
I've long learned in my business that the best course
of action is to do something totally unexpected in
return.  Because his hands were secured to his neck, I
was in little practical danger from him - perhaps the
time was right for a bold move!

"For that statement in normal circumstances, slave,
you would be whipped.  Open defiance of your master
cannot be tolerated.  But I am going to make
allowances for the fact that you are probably still
upset from the effects of the pain killing ointment I
gave you after your branding." - note how I gave him a
mental "get out"!

"You are, however, wrong.  You will not be totally
helpless, fastened to the bars of your cell.  You will
beg me to do it to you."

"Never, Sir! Marines do not take it up the ass!"

I thought it was  touching how he had reverted to his
use of the Service "sir", rather than "master".  He
inwardly recognised me as a superior officer, at
least, and so was using "sir" to me.  So perhaps we
had got somewhere, after all.

I went up to him and took his cock in my hand, and
used it as a handle to pull him gently out of the cage
and into my half of the suite.

I positioned him in front of my large couch, then
gently pushed him backwards so he was half reclining
on it.  Then, standing directly in front of him so he
could again see the full splendour of my body, I
dropped my robes and stood naked in front of him.

He was watching me intently, and I saw his eyes grow
wide as I sprang a massive erection.  Without saying
anything more, I went and half lay on his sprawled-out
body, being careful not to crush him totally, but
allowing a lot of our bodies to be in close contact.
I pushed one of my legs between his, so our cocks were
thrust together, and I could feel the hot tip of mine
pushing into the silky smoothness of his shaved sac.
His hot flesh was deliciously warm to me, and I could
sense the pounding of his heart as I pressed my chest
close to his.

Moving my face in close, I leaned forward and locked
my lips on to his.  He tried to struggle and turn his
face away, but encumbered with the yoke, he was unable
to do so.

My hand groped for his left nipple, and found it.  I
started to roll it and tweak it gently, and he was
soon trying to writhe away from under me as the
exquisite sensation ran through his nerves - I knew he
was sensitive here, and used my experience to cause
him just enough pain so that it was the most extreme
pleasure he had ever felt.

As he started to gasp and moan, his mouth opened
slightly and I forced my tongue in - with his nipple
so completely under my control, I knew I had little to
fear from being bitten.  Had he attempted such a thing
he would have been instantly howling with agony as I
tore his nipple off.  But I knew that the sensations
that were flooding his body made rational thought
impossible, and he would be unable even to think of
doing such a thing.

My tongue was probing all around his mouth, and I
pulled back slightly to bite gently into his lower
lip.  He was unable to help himself, and his tongue
was soon reciprocating and we were kissing
passionately, with all the force that only two strong
men can when both are sexually inflamed.  My cock told
me that his cock was now erect, too, and pushing
against mine.

Shuffling my body slightly for better access, I
stopped teasing his nipple to reach down and take our
two cocks into my hand, making them lie side by side
and starting to massage them gently.  Personally, I
love the warmth of another man's cock pressed against
my own in this way, and he evidently did, too, as his
moaning and kissing became ever more passionate.

I stopped for a moment, so that I could take his cock
alone into my hand, and then caused a new wave of
pleasurable pain to sweep through him as I gently
raked my thumbnail across his moist cock head - uncut
guys are always particularly sensitive to this, I
find, and this action can often drive them to
uncontrollable passion.

My other hand was now behind his head, pushing our
lips ever closer together, and I rubbed it quite
violently up and down over his scalp.  Again, I know a
lot of men enjoy this immensely whilst kissing, and
that he would want to reciprocate.  But his hands were
of course locked to his neck, and I could only imagine
the immense frustration he must be feeling - he would
naturally want to be using those strong fingers of his
to do all the things to me that I was doing to him.
Being powerless to act in this way must have doubled
or even redoubled the sensations he was feeling as I
resumed my caressing of his cock, then switched back
to his nipples, and then back to his cock, whilst all
the time lashing his tongue with mine and making us
share our spit, and our very breath.

I gave him absolutely no "time off".  I never ceased
my assault on his head, nips and cock until he was
completely helpless under me - he was writhing and
moaning with pleasure, and a heavy sweat had broken
out all over his body.  As I rubbed my body against
his now, more and more sensation flooded him as our
hot, sweat-slicked bodies caressed each other.

Then  I pulled away totally, and simply flipped him
over to lie on his stomach.  Before he could pause to
think and recover his senses, I was lying along his
back and  nibbling his ear lobes, biting gently at the
soft areas under his ears (it would have been his
neck, but that dammed yoke was there!), and turning
his head around so that I could once again start to
kiss his mouth.  I rubbed my body up and down over
his, so that he could feel my nipples raking his back,
and my erect cock was dragged up and down the little
crack between his tight ass cheeks.

I pulled my mouth away from his, and whispered into
his ear, very quietly and gently

"Are you ready now, slave?"

It was with a gasp of pure excitement that he managed
to get out

"Yes, master.  Yes, Oh yes!"

Still keeping in that wonderfully close intimate
contact with him, I reached underneath him and quickly
masturbated him to a full climax - he was so aroused
that he shot almost instantly, and my hand, partially
trapped under his sweating body, was covered in a
thick layer of his cum.  Even in my own aroused state
I was slightly cross, as I had only recently had that
couch recovered in the finest Cordovan suede, and I
knew that the slave's fluids would probably leave an
indelible mark!

But I dismissed this thought to concentrate of the job
in hand, and with my cum-coated hand, now probed
gently at his ass hole and did the best I could to
lubricate it.  I also smeared my totally erect member
with his cum, and then reached down between us to
position my cock on his hole.

There's always something special I think when the tip
of your cock first makes contact with a man's pucker -
it's always a lot warmer than you imagine it's going
to be.  Normally this excites me to a frenzy,
especially when I know it's a virgin pucker and my
cock will be the first; and I'm often unable to
control my self and thrust violently at it so that I
can savour the pleasure of it as quickly as possible.
But it was important that this slave truly enjoy his
first experience of proper sex, so with a tremendous
act of will power I restrained myself.

At first I just moved the tip of my cock up and down
to gently tease his pucker, and his body under mine
started to tense and his moans became even deeper and
more sensual - he was enjoying it already!

I started to push my cum-slicked head ever so gently
in, and felt that intense resistance yo always get
with a virgin pucker.  Pushing my lips close to his
ear, I whispered

"Come on, slave, let me in.  Pretend you're going to
crap and try to push outwards...."

He was obviously acting on my words, because I was
rewarded with a slight relaxation of his sphincter and
I was able to very slowly slip into him, until the
broad flange of my cock head was completely inside and
I could feel his muscles gripping at the sides of my
cock,

"Is that good, slave?  Are you enjoying it?", I
whispered.

"Oh yes, master."  His reply was almost a sigh, it was
so calm, and so deep.

I started to thrust, ever so slowly, and ever so
gently, so that my cock was not so much pistoning in
and out as just moving up and down by no more than a
couple of centimetres.  As so many men do, he started
to sigh and gasp in time to my strokes.

To complement the sensation for him, I again pressed
my lips to his ear and whispered

"Yes.... Yes.... Yes..... "  in time to my rocking and
his sighs and moans - everything was perfectly
synchronised.

Of course I could have gone on like this for a very
long time, and it really was very pleasant indeed - I
must try this gentle approach more often, and made a
mental note to myself to repeat the experience with
one of the new virgin arrivals the following week.
But it was important that the slave should feel the
power of my ejaculation, too.

I did not have the time to spend to come to the point
of ejaculating with this very gentle thrusting - I
estimated it would take me at least 20 minutes of
pleasuring myself in this way - so it was necessary to
speed up and be a little less gentle.  But all the
time I continued to whisper in the slave's ear and
keep my own gasps and sighs absolutely in line with my
motion and the slave's own cries.

I did need to give eight very hard thrusts to make
myself cum - you know, the sort where you almost pull
out completely, then go straight back in, absolutely
to the limit, very fast.  I always enjoy hearing the
"slap" sound that the slave's sweat-slicked ass makes
as your pubic bone slams into it, and I think it
increases the sensuality of the situation for me.

The slave did of course cry out as I did this, and his
moans of pleasure turned to gasps of "Jesus
Christ!.....   Oh God!....  Jesus Christ.... " as I
thrust away.

In turn, my own  whispers of "Yes..." turned to those
deep animal-like grunts of "Ugh... Ugh... Ugh..."
until there was a final "Aaaggghhhhh....." as I felt
myself shoot a huge load of my cum deep inside him.


As you do after a climax, I simply collapsed forward
so that my whole body was stretched out over the
slave's.  I was panting from the exertion and the
excitement , and all I could do was whisper

"There.... There..... " to comfort and console him as
he lay under me.

What now, I wondered.  The slave was, literally, "all
fucked out".  He seemed to be very supine, and
exhausted - he hadn't had to do any work, after all,
as it was me who was engaged in the muscular activity.
 But I guessed that it was the sheer emotion of the
experience that was making him so totally shattered.
It looked as if he wanted just to be allowed to lie
there and sleep!

Mindful of my need to press on, as I had more work to
do, but not wanting to miss an opportunity to continue
the slave's education, I decided that boldness was the
order of the day.  Reaching up, I flipped open the
catch on the yoke so that it opened, and then helped
the slave to pull the thing off him and toss it onto
the floor beside us.

Before he could react further, I pulled out of him
(quite quickly - with more time, I would have
withdrawn more gently) and again flipped him over so
he was lying on his back.  I threw myself down on him,
half trapping him, as we had started, and at once
began kissing him again.  But this time not with the
violent force I had used the first time, but with
strong, passionate kisses - which he reciprocated.

We were both soaked in sweat, and I found the
experience a little unpleasant as my cock was  also
covered in his shit.  Now, trapped between our two
bodies, every movement drove a small puff of somewhat
fetid air up towards our faces.  This could of course
be rectified the next time, but it was important to
press on.

"So, slave, you've been fucked.  You were not totally
immobile as you believed you would be, and you could
have resisted a lot more than you did.  No, let me
rephrase that... You could have resisted!  I did not
feel you protest once, and your body responded to mine
in the same way that any man's would."

"Master... I..... I....."

"Shhhhhh, slave.  Just lie here in my arms and savour
your entry into proper manhood.  You now know the
pleasure that only a strong master can bring to
another man.  Think yourself lucky that by being
enslaved you have been able to discover what it truly
is to be a man and experience the full joy of sex.  As
a 'free' marine, you could have gone to your grave
unaware of the delights that only one man can bring to
another."

His breathing as deepening, and there was a huge smile
on his face.  I noticed, however, that there were the
beginnings of two tears at the corners of his eyes -
pain, or joy, who could say?  And did it matter?

I kissed him again, and he settled his body more
comfortably into mine.  I whispered in his ear - I
find normal tones spoil the magic of moments such as
these - "Are you happy, slave?"

"Yes, master."

I realised the poor boy had gone to sleep, but
business is business and money is money.  I had to
kiss him several times to wake him, and he lay there
for a moment as he watched me turn on the water and go
into the "cell" half of the room to shower.

"Come on in, slave, the water's lovely!", I said
jokingly, and he did.

I have already told you that I always like seeing
naked bodies slicked with soap, and I also
particularly like the feel of a strong muscular body
against mine in the shower - showering or bathing with
other men is another of life's pleasures. With a
plentiful supply of slaves in my office and houses,
this is one I can always indulge in, and I pity those
men in the West who can only occasionally visit gay
spas to experience the sheer sensuality of having
anothe man wash you.

As I put on my robe, I looked at him and said

"Well, slave, what are we going to do now?  It seems
silly for me to lock you in the cage when you have
been roaming free around the whole room."

"Master, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, I will indulge you."

"Well, master, when you took my yoke off, were you not
concerned that I might attack you?  I know thirteen
ways to kill a man with my bare hands....   And then
again, when you were in the shower initially, I could
have leaped across the room and locked the cage
door...."

"Oh slave, you don't yet understand, do you?  I am a
skilled owner and trainer of slaves.  I can read a
slave's reactions better than he can himself.  I knew
that you were now 'ready' to submit to me, although
you would not admit it to yourself."

"You have not yet fully realised that I am a natural
'master' and you, even though you did not recognise
it, are a natural 'slave'.  You thought that by being
a marine you were an icon of independent manliness.
And, indeed, physically you are a perfect specimen of
everything that other men aspire to: your training - I
imagine it's extremely hard and tough - has honed your
body to perfection.  But, deep down, your 'slave'
personality allowed you to buckle down and follow
'orders', however ridiculous they were!  I am prepared
to bet that you never once questioned an order, or
said how stupid something was that you were told to
do..."

"No, master.  A marine obeys the orders of his
officers."

"Exactly.  Whilst appearing to the world to be the
epitome of rugged masculinity, you were already well
set on the road to total obedient slavery."

"Now listen, slave, whilst I tell you an important
truth:  some men are masters, and some slaves. Once
you recognise this fact and know that you are truly a
slave and that I am a master - not just because I
bought you, but because I am a naturally born master -
your life will change.  You will gladly serve me, and
enjoy it.  You do not want to have to make decisions,
and plan, and take responsibility:  you want to obey.
In your life as a slave with me, that will be easy as
I will command."

"Anyway, I have to go now.  I could take you with me,
but there are still some things I want to do with you
first before you are fit for the world.  I will not
lock you into the cage, as I think you already know
that not only is escape impossible, but that you do
not really want to do so anyway!  You can have the run
of the entire place for the rest of the day, but I
will still, as a small precaution, lock the outer door
behind me."

As I walked along the corridor to the elevator, I was
smiling to myself - I was of course at no risk
whatsoever from the slave!  True, I had read him
correctly.  But in the unlikely event that I had it
wrong, the medallion that I wear around my neck, the
winder on my wristwatch, and the cartouche on my
signet ring, all conceal "panic buttons".  A tiny
press in the correct way on any of them would have
brought my guards into the room within seconds.

I now had a problem, of course - we had gone so far so
fast that the afternoon stretched away emptily in
front of me.  I wondered what to do - I could go to my
estate early, or I could go to one of the fighting
establishments in the city and have a match laid on
for my benefit - seeing the oiled naked wrestlers
pound each other for my pleasure does help pass the
time.  Or perhaps I should go to the slave dealers,
and have another look around - who knows, there might
be another marine there....

That reminded me - I had promised the lieutenant I
would find out what had happened to his four men, and
I always keep my word.  As I got out of the elevator I
snapped orders at my PA to investigate thoroughly, and
get back to me before the evening.

As it happened, the afternoon was not a write-off:  I
called one of my oldest friends and went around to
visit him.  He had just been able to complete the team
of ponies that he had been working on for a long time:
 it really is incredibly difficult to get six men all
the same size and shape!  Even when you compromise on
hair colour and decide all your ponies are going to be
completely shaved, getting a really good match of
bodies is extraordinarily difficult and he had been
searching for at least two months for a perfect sixth.
 He was so pleased that he now had a proper "team",
and wanted to take me for a drive.

As the King has decreed that there are to be no overt
displays of slaves here in the capitol, to avoid
upsetting the sensibilities of the many visitors who
are now coming here, he could not take his new
carriage out on the roads.  But he is an ingenious
fellow, and had had a huge tread mill constructed
inside the stables of his mansion.

We were able to go for a five mile "run" with the
ponies running "flat out".  Of course that is only
achieved with a liberal application of the whip, and
when the machine was finally turned off, the backs and
asses of the ponies were flecked with blood and the
whip marks were plainly visible.

As we lay in bed afterwards, I asked him about that -
doesn't it spoil the appearance of the slaves to have
so many whip marks on their backs?  He assured me it's
not a problem, as he, like me, is so busy that he has
little time to use his ponies - probably only about
once a week.  So there's plenty of time for the lash
marks to heal before their next outing, and he does
not have to be constantly affronted by the sight of
their wounds.

Actually, having sex with an old friend, a free man
who is almost as powerful as you yourself are, can be
quite exciting.  We spent a lot of time tussling and
jockeying for position, to decide who should fuck who
first - long ago, as children, we decided that whoever
fucked first was to be called "master" for the rest of
the session... It seems deliciously wicked to call
someone "master" - it's almost as good as the sex
itself.

When I got home, my PA told me the truth about the
four marines.  One had been killed during their
capture, and one was so badly wounded in the fight
that he would not make a good slave so had been sold
immediately to the Brazilians for the organ banks. The
third had proved to  be untrainable- allegedly! -  and
so had been sent to arena as a gladiator and had died,
and the fourth was "my" marine!  By one of those
extraordinary coincidences that often strike in life
although they can look silly in a novel, the marine
lieutenant I had, quite by chance, fucked in
Washington was my slave's ex-officer.

Personally, I don't go to the arena.  Having naked
slaves wrestle or box for you is one thing, but having
naked men hack at each other with swords until one or
other dies is quite unacceptable these days.  There
just are not enough slaves as it is, and prices rise
faster than inflation inexorably.  We should not be
"wasting" slave flesh by killing it off prematurely,
and so, as a protest, I do not attend the arena.  As a
leader of fashionable society, I'm making quite a lot
of progress in persuading my friends not to go,
either.  And I just don't buy the argument that you
have to send "untrainable" slaves to the arena:  my
own marine proves the point!

I told my secretary to schedule a call to the
lieutenant the next day, and decided that I could do
without a bed slave that night as my sessions with the
marine, and my old friend, had temporarily slaked my
thirst for male bodies.  Ah well, tomorrow would be
another day!

End Of Part 6