TRAINING THE MARINE - Part 5
By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
It was good to be home, but the necessary cares and responsibilities of running my global enterprise kept me out of the basement for at least two hours after my arrival, and I was seething with impatience to compile the necessary meetings, reviews, and signing of important documents that only I could do.
At last I was free, and felt the stomach-churning wrench as my elevator dropped me at full speed down into the lowest basement. When I opened the door, it was gratifying to see the slave at once fall to his knees and touch the floor with his forehead - he really did seem to have been learning his lessons well.
After I had made myself comfortable on my couch and had told the slave he might stand at be at rest, I informed him of how pleased I was with his progress.
"I particularly liked the way that you were able to relate to those Roman soldiers in 'Sebastiane' ", I told him. "Did you not think that it was good that they were totally free and unashamed with each other? Do you now wish that you had been able to be the same way with your comrades?"
"Master, I don't want to anger you... But I do not believe I could be like that. And especially not with the men with whom I had to share a barracks."
"Well, we will see. Only a very short time ago you would not have masturbated in front of another man, or pissed or crapped with others watching. You would not have shaved your genitals, and then walked proudly nude, displaying them for your master's pleasure. There are still several more stages on your journey to slavedom. Are you ready to start the next one, or are we to once again go through a tedious process of punishment until you do agree?"
I could see the slave looking very apprehensive.... Then he said, very hesitantly
"Master, could you tell me what comes next?"
"Why, slave? Would it make a difference as to whether you submitted or not? You must know that sooner or later you will submit, so what possible difference can it make to you?"
"Master... I'm sorry.... I don't know.... "
I could see that he was plainly confused, and that the inexorable weight of my logic was getting to him. He was going to submit, and there was no need for me to explain anything. But I was pleased with him for the way he had behaved during my four day trip, and wanted to show him that good behaviour resulted in my pleasure. So I said, calmly and quietly, so as not to alarm him
"The next step in slavery is for you to be marked as my property. Were you to escape at the moment, you would of course be captured as it is easy for our police and our citizens to spot slaves: you are too different from us in appearance and general manner, so you stand out even in a crowd. And there are no 'sympathetic' people here to help you - any runaway slave is always promptly reported to the authorities and quickly recaptured. Our geography makes it impossible for you to leave the country without help - from an airline, or a truck driver, or some similar means of transport - and this is never forthcoming."
"But after recapture, the police would need to know to whom you belonged, so that I could be informed of your execution and could write your cost off as a loss in my books - I have warned you, have I not, that the automatic penalty for escape is death?".
"Yes, master."
"Well, then, you need to be marked. You need to carry my company's house mark on your flesh, so that you are always clearly identified as my property. All my property is always marked - my company logo appears on everything I own - my aeroplanes, cars, office equipment, the stationary used in my offices.... Everything."
"So now you understand that it is just a natural part of being a slave, I assume there will be no more silliness and I can proceed to do it now."
Without giving him time to think, I at once went over to the cupboard where I kept all the instruments that I needed for taming, and got out the front part of my portable pillory. This is just the standard set of two bars, hinged at one end and shaped to hold the neck and wrists, and with provision for clamping the other end so that once on, the slave cannot remove it.
The only difference between the apparatus I was using and a conventional wooden model was that mine was in stainless steel, to match the bars of the cage, and it did not have a supporting post - two clamps at either end of the bar could fix the pillory securely to the bars of the cage.
I saw the slave looking, and passed the apparatus through the bars to him.
"Come over to the bars and stand with your back to them - I need to take off that slave collar you have been wearing so far", I commanded.
He did, and I unlocked the thick leather that he had been wearing since he came to me. Almost reflexively, he reached up with his hands to massage his neck and gave it a couple of shakes, enjoying the freedom from the collar. It's actually quite heavy, and being both wide and thick, the slave finds that his head movement is restricted and does not feel "normal" - it's not really uncomfortable or chafing, as you don't want to risk damage to the slave, but it does serve as a constant reminder to him of his lowly position.
I watched until he was steady, then, pointing at the bars of the pillory apparatus, said
"I'm sure you can see what you are supposed to do - open this up, put it around your neck and wrists. Then approach the bars so that I can lock the free end", I said in a normal tone, as if this was something that any man would do any day.
With a resigned shrug, as if to say "why not", the slave did. I locked the free end, so his neck and wrists were held immovably, then told him to stand facing the bars and bend forwards slightly. The pillory bar was then against the cage bars, with the slave's head and wrists poking through them. I quickly used the clamps to hold the two ends of the pillory bar to the cage bars, so the slave was now stuck there until I chose to release him.
I left him standing more or less upright whilst I got out the second part of the apparatus - a simple cross bar, supported on two light trestles. I unlocked the cage and carried these in.
It was of course now safe to approach the slave, as although he could kick out at me, his arms were immobile and there was little real danger - it's not easy to kick backwards anyway.
Standing to one side, I pushed his head and shoulders downwards, until his back was horizontal. I was almost hoping that he might resist, as I had intended to grasp his nipples and pull him down by them, but the firm but steady pressure of my hand on the nape of his neck was all that was necessary to get him to bend voluntarily. As soon as I was happy with his position, I tightened the clamps holding the pillory bar to the bars of the cage, so he could not now move from that level at all.
This was the first time that I had been able to get my hands on his back and his arse, as before when I had inspected him these were hard up against the bars of the cage, as he was tied to it. I always like to see the actual vertebrae of the backbone standing out slightly from the flesh, and for a slave to have a definite "channel" in the backbone just before it merges with the ass crack, and this slave was almost perfect in both these respects.
I mused that here were so many things that I liked about this slave's body that it was sheer serendipity when I saw him in the market that first day - I could have searched for many months had I been consciously looking for a slave with the combination of all the things that I found desirable in this one. I ran my hands along his back, and down his sides. Then allowed myself to feel his hard, muscular buttocks and continue my inspection by running my hands down his flanks. It was good that he stood perfectly still during this examination, and did not shuffle or twitch, or try to move his body away from my hands (however futile such a thing might have been).
Everything seemed right - good, taught muscle definition, but nothing overdeveloped, to excess. I had seen from the video monitor whilst I was away that he had continued to exercise, and I assumed that having gained a high level of fitness in the marines' training programme, he himself did not want to lose it - and that happened to coincide perfectly with my own requirements for him.
Still, there was work to be done, and there would be time enough later to enjoy his body in more detail - I needed to be out of here tonight relatively quickly, as I had a dinner engagement.
But I could not resist two more quick inspections - his balls were hanging down invitingly between his thighs, so I pushed his legs a little wider apart so that I could gain free access to them. I'm sure you find the same thing as I do - somehow the balls, when fondled from the rear, feel quite different from when you do it from the front. And of course since the last time I had felt his balls, he had shaved them clean. That makes such a difference, I find - you really cannot appreciate the hard-shading-to-soft texture of the testicles themselves inside that sensuous, silky sac when the whole thing is covered in hair! His balls were even nicer now to the touch than they were before, and I felt my prick stirring in anticipation of the day when, fully trained, I could have unrestrained access to him any time I wanted.
If you're going to look at a slave's arse you can of course make a visual inspection by pulling his ass cheeks apart, which is what I did. But for a probe to test his sphincter with a finger, you really need another pair of hands to hold then apart whilst you do it. So I knew that my probing was not going to be totally satisfactory, as you cannot get the whole of your finger up his rectum with his ass cheeks in the way. But I could tell by the way he grunted as I pushed in with the top couple of joints of my middle finger that he was not used to this, and was undoubtedly a virgin. He promised great delights for the future.
I contemplated using both hands to hold his ass cheeks and simply going ahead there and then with forcing my cock up his lovely ass, but restrained myself: the time was not right, and I wanted the slave to be properly prepared and ready to accept this as the final part of his subjugation. In any case, I remembered the marine lieutenant who I had fucked such a short time ago - I really did not like all that shit on my member after I had done. I always have my bed slaves thoroughly cleaned out before they come to me, as is the practice that everyone I know adopts with their slaves (except for a man, hardly a friend, who is a bit of a laughing stock to the rest of us because he actually enjoys excrement!), and I decided to wait until after this slave had learned how to administer enemas to himself.
Putting the two trestles on either side of him, I slipped the cross bar under his belly and clamped it to the trestles firmly. A strong elastic tie around his waist then held him firmly to that bar, and I also tied his ankles to the trestle legs. He was then relatively immobile and could not easily move his ass or legs.
The first time I had tried branding a slave myself I had thought that holding his neck and arms firmly, as the pillory bar did, would be enough. But the slave's bucking and thrashing can be so violent as the white-hot branding iron burns into him that not only does it make it difficult to keep the iron pressed in firmly, which ruins the clarity of the brand, but you run the risk of him damaging his neck muscles - a permanently paralysed slave is no use to anyone, after all. Using the rear bar and trestles in this way obviates this problem, as the ass is held securely and violent movement is much reduced.
I left the cage and went to my cupboard, got the electric branding iron out and plugged it in. I know it's not "traditional", but all that messing around with braziers full of charcoal is much too much trouble, and anyway you really need another slave to be there to keep blowing on it and maintaining it at high temperature. It is undoubtedly more theatrical, and part of this, is, after all, to emphasise to the slave that he is being permanently marked as your property. As an interim measure, I had tried using a small portable gas burner to heat the iron, but you have to keep concentrating on it and if you're not careful, the iron gets hotter on one side than on the other and again you do not get a perfectly uniform, clear, sharp brand.
All in all, whilst it lacks some of the "theatre" of other methods, and electric iron is so much more satisfactory. The latest model that I had only takes about five minutes to get up to full heat, and the special alloy of which it is composed glows very satisfactorily white with the heat, and retains enough of it to enable you to unplug the cord and just carry the iron to the slave, so avoiding the risk of accidents.
Whilst I was waiting for the iron to heat, I explained to the slave what was about to happen.
"I have all my slaves marked on the left ass cheek. It will be extremely painful for you, and there's no shame in crying and shrieking in agony as the iron bites - every slave does, so no mock heroics and 'marines don't complain'. There are only the two of us here, and no one else will know you cried and raged - but even if there were, if they were slaves they would understand, having undergone the same thing themselves."
"You will feel the initial searing shock as the iron touches the skin. Don't worry about the smell of burning meat - it will be you! I have to hold the iron in place for a few seconds to ensure the scarring goes right through the top few layers of flesh: If you were to get only a surface burn, it would not last and we'd have to start again. So the initial pain will be replaced by an all-consuming slam of pain that will take over your mind totally, but it will pass, to some extent, as soon as I remove the iron from you."
"You may pass out - a lot of slaves do. And you may be unable to stop your bowels evacuating, and you may piss involuntarily. But don't worry about that, as it's quite normal as a primeval reaction of the body to extreme pain: the floor here is just concrete, as you know, and you will easily be able to clean it up afterwards."
"Just remember that you are being honoured - I, your master, am marking you personally. Most slaves are just branded on my breeding farm, or when they arrive from the merchants, quite impersonally by one of my slave handlers. But you are going to be a personal servant of mine, and we will always have this between us: you will always remember that it is me that branded you, and I will always remember seeing your flesh seer as I push home the iron, and the reaction of your body as I do it. I find it is a unique bond between a master and a slave - some really important experience they both share."
I could see now that the iron was glowing white, so I snapped out the cord, picked it up by the insulated handle, walked swiftly into the cage, positioned my self properly, and pushed it into his ass in the position I prefer - not right at the back, but more around to the side, under the hip bone. Once the iron is up to heat I think it's kinder to the slave just to come and do it like that, straight away, rather than standing around and generally fiddling about - it saves him a lot of unnecessary worry.
I think he thought that he wouldn't scream, but they all do! It's just too intense a pain, and it goes on for too long. But, to his credit, he held his sphincters closed. Afterwards, as he continued to sob and moan, I could see all the muscles all over his body trying to jerk and pull to try and bring his body some relief - as I said, using the rear tie-down with the trestles really is essential.
In my experience you really need to leave the brand completely exposed to the air for at least an hour without touching it at all if you are to get the nice crisp edge I like after the scabs have dropped off. Some masters make the mistake of immediately dowsing the site in icy cold water, as you would do for a burn or scald, or even rubbing in analgesic cream immediately. Of course I use the analgesic cream in due course, as I'm not gratuitously cruel to slaves, but used too soon it can spoil the crisp lines you're aiming for.
I had an American friend (who had been up at Cambridge with me, and who is now a successful corporate banker) staying with me once and we were at my estate just as a new batch of slaves was being branded. I thought he would be interested in seeing this aspect of slave management, and I even let him have a go for himself on some of the cheaper slaves destined only for the work gangs. That night, as we lay together in bed discussing the day, he asked me why we don't simply anaesthetise the slaves before branding them, and so avoid all the shouting, and the general mess from the ones who can't help shitting. It was of course only a question that a man not used to the complete control of slaves could ask: it's perfectly clear to any one with any knowledge of slavery that the slave must be fully aware of what's going on, and that the pain forms a vital part of the experience: it emphasises to the slave just what a master could have done to him if the master chose.
Anyway, I had work to do! I didn't want to sit and hear the slave moaning and groaning for an hour or two, so I prepared to leave. But I went around to the front, and gently cupped his head in my hands. I explained that I would be back later, and that he could endure the pain - all slaves did, after all. I couldn't resist just lightly ruffling the stubble of hair on his head, and rubbing my thumbs behind his ears - my western readers probably know how a pet dog or cat likes these little attentions, and I always think that slaves do, too.
I'd only meant for him to endure the pain for about an hour, but unfortunately the cocktail party that I was attending went on a bit - or, rather, I found several important people who I really did need to speak to - so it was three hours later before I could return to the marine. But I didn't waste any time - I at once massaged analgesic cream into his ass, and it was only a few more minutes before he could stop that dreadful moaning that he was doing.
I released him from the ties holding him to the cross bar and trestles, and removed them from the cage. Then going out and locking the cage door behind me, I released the yoke cross piece from the cage bars, so that he could stand upright once more. He bent and stretched, to relieve the tension in his muscles, and I enjoyed seeing the power of his belly muscles as they strained a little to raise and lower his torso that was having to carry the heavy pillory bars.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to stay like that for tonight, slave", I said as cheerily as I could. "I find that slaves can't be trusted not to pick at the scarring on their brands, and that can spoil it. So it's better for you to have your hands kept securely out of harm's way."
"But can I trust you not to rub your ass against the floor? Normally I would keep a slave pilloried to avoid this, but I may be a little late tomorrow morning as I have a breakfast meeting with the American ambassador, and I don't want to keep you in a very uncomfortable position longer than necessary."
"So do you think that your marine training and self discipline can keep you from rubbing yourself against the walls or floor? If not, say so - there's nothing to be ashamed of, as you're no longer a marine, and slaves are often weak willed."
"No, master, I will survive!"
"Good. It's one of the reasons I choose to have 'wild' slaves broken to be my personal servants - I like their spirit!"
Because his hands were immobile I had to feed him his biscuits one by one, and then I allowed him to tell me how the shower temperature should be adjusted to give him the least problems that night.
All in all, a most successful outcome, I thought as I went up in the elevator to be driven home.
The following morning I did of course go to visit him before I went up to my office. I could have taken his yoke off immediately, but instead chose to use the excuse of his hands being immobile to rub more of the analgesic ointment into his naked ass - I still felt a thrill of excitement at the feel of his body (which is somewhat unusual for me, as I have handled hundreds of men in my time). I was a little concerned at entering his cage whilst he was untethered, but considered it was only a marginal risk as short of battering me with the yoke, he was unlikely to be able to do me serious harm if he attacked me - I was of course still not prepared to venture close to him when his hands were unrestrained.
I didn't want to keep him restrained longer than necessary, so as soon as I had finished the sensual rub I left his cage, locked the door, then called him close to the bars so I could unlock the yoke and withdraw it to my side of the bars.
I had decided that he should, for the time being, always eat from my hand as it emphasised our respective positions, so I fed him.
"I trust the pain is subsiding a little, slave?"
"Yes, master. You did not need to put additional ointment on me, as I can bear it. A marine needs to be able to control his body and master pain, as you never know when you will get injured and be out of range of a medic when you're on active duty."
"Very commendable, I'm sure! But I want you really fit as soon as possible - I'm glad you have been exercising, and I want you to continue that. Now, I have important matters to attend to today, but I will visit you later."
At odd times during the day I used my desktop PC to view the slave, and, indeed, he did seem to be recovering extraordinarily well: he was running on the spot, pushing against the walls, doing "jumping jacks" and trunk curls, and several other exercises that a fit, active man can do without the need for complex apparatus. As I went down in the elevator that night, I wondered how to proceed: I really did want to move on to the next stage of his acceptance of me as his total master, but, equally, I was a bit concerned that his recovery was too quick: perhaps he really was in acute pain and was "manfully" trying to conceal it in the mistaken belief that that's what "real" men did.
I decided to incline towards caution, and after I had fed him that night and had him stand close to the bars so that I could inspect his brand and ensure it was not becoming infected, I just sat on my couch and said we would watch TV together.
After all the "historical" films I had shown him about slavery and good man-to-man relationships, I had decided it was time to move on to prepare him mentally for what was to come next. One of my many subsidiaries is a company that makes industrial training films that are used by over 350 of the Fortune 500. I had some time ago commissioned them - somewhat to the surprise of the producer in charge, who had no idea that slaves needed training just as much as office workers - to make a series of videos for showing to the newly enslaved. I had found that it's truly amazing how many new slaves had absolutely no idea of what was actually involved in sex with another man - they had vague ideas and had heard rumours, but the actual mechanics of the process completely eluded them. It's just as if straight men say "it would be disgusting" and then take no steps to actually find out what it's all about really.
So the series of instructional videos starts at the simple lessons about how to masturbate another man for his maximum pleasure (it's easy to do yourself, as we all know. But there is an art to masturbating another guy to make sure the experience is actually better for him than doing it himself would be. Part of the problem is that by the time most men experience another man's hand on their cocks, they're so used to their own that even the most skilled manipulator has a job competing!). The lessons proceed through the art of sucking another cock well (with tips on how to avoid gagging if a particularly long and succulent one is thrust down your throat), through rimming and general anal manipulation, and on to fucking. The second series is for partially trained slaves, and concentrates on making the most of the four major positions for fucking.
To save time, and because I was going to watch them along with the slave, I went straight to the second series. After we had watched the first video together, he was unnaturally still and quiet. By the end of the evening, he looked distinctly worried and seemed bursting to say something - although he knew by now that slaves were not allowed to initiate conversation with their master.
I decided to allow him relief. "So, slave, you think you know it all now, do you?" I asked.
"Master... Am I going to have to do that to you?"
I couldn't help roaring with laughter at the sheer unexpectedness of the question.
"Certainly not! I only use slaves as receptacles for my cock. I wanted you to see these videos so that you understood how to position your body to take me inside you, as and when I decide that I want to."
"You mean I'm going to be fucked.....?"
"Yes, of course. What on earth do you think I have slaves in my bath suite and bed chamber for?"
He remained silent after that, and whilst I had got used to seeing him blush as I made him perform some new act for the first time, on this occasion he seemed to have gone pale.
It didn't matter, or course, as when I decided to fuck him, he would have little choice. But I did need to move him on a little, and wanted to give him something to think about over night.
So I told him I wanted to see him masturbate before I left him, and he obediently knelt down by the bars and jerked himself off. He was used to catching his cum by now, and in response to my nod giving him approval to do so, licked his palm and fingers clean of his ejaculation.
I did not give him permission to move, so he remained kneeling there. I stood up, and freeing the clasps, stepped out of my robes.
As I said, I am an impressive man. And to the slave, it must have been quite overpowering to see me naked in front of him that first time. I have about four inches in height over him at the best of times, and I was now standing and he was kneeling. I'm much thicker-set than his muscled, but still slighter, body. And as I have said, I'm much better hung than over 95% of men, and certainly my cock was larger than his (even though he was above average for men of his size).
I deliberately stretched, quite casually, and scratched my pits and then my pubes in an extremely careless and comfortable way. I wanted the slave to know that I was totally at ease with being naked in front of him, and was prepared to do anything - I've lived with slaves all my life, and know that a master carries his own privacy within himself that is not dependent on whether a slave is looking at him, or not.
Ideally I wanted him to suck me off, but the time was not yet right. I was still concerned that he might do something foolish like attempt to bite my member if I put it between his lips. It would also be good to have him caress and fondle my cock, prior to masturbating me, but again I did not want to give him the opportunity of having his extremely powerful hands in contact with any part of my body.
"Reach through the bars, and stretch your arms out to their fullest extent", I commanded him. "Then cup your hands."
He did as he was told, I'm glad to say.
I walked forward a couple of paces so that I was just out of reach of his hands, then started to masturbate myself. It's really tedious, of course, and I haven't jerked myself off since I was a lad - there's always a ready supply of slaves to do it, or to suck me, or to be taken up the ass, if I need. And even when I do choose to be masturbated, it's usually lying down, or reclining in a chair, or seated at my office desk during some interminably tedious meeting. It's actually quite difficult to jerk yourself off whilst standing, and the backs of your knees tend to make themselves felt as you naturally thrust your groin forwards.
But it was probably the novelty of the experience for me that forced matters along, and very quickly I shot a very large load of my thick white semen in to the slave's waiting hands.
I stood there looking at him, then said "You may eat that, slave, and clean your hands, just as you did for your own emission. Be very careful not to allow any of your master's seed to fall as you have to unclasp your hands to get them back through the bars!"
I thought he was going to disobey me, but the general feeling of submission I had got from him was correct, and he slowly - perhaps a little too slowly - a slave should after all be pleased to get the opportunity to eat his master's most precious fluid - withdrew his hands.
His tongue licked suspiciously at my semen at first, but he did in the end clean his hands properly.
He looked upset, mind you, so I encouraged him: "Good, slave. You have done well. Tomorrow we can move on!"
I left for the night, leaving the instructional series re-playing on the TV so that he would have an opportunity of studying it again before sleeping.
End of part 5