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