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