Date: Sat, 9 Feb 2002 00:26:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Training The Marine, Part 8

TRAINING THE MARINE - Part 8

By Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

One of the advantages of having had the slave suck me
so comprehensively is that I did not need to spend
time before sleeping in fucking one of my bed slaves.
So I used the last few minutes before sleep in
speaking to my duty PA and instructing him to have the
estate tattooist at my office for when I arrived the
next morning, and to make arrangements for the trip to
the USA that my aides had been pressing me to
undertake.

It is surprising how deeply one can sleep when one has
an untroubled mind and an easy conscience - as I
slipped into sleep I thought of the good I was
bringing to the many thousands of workers who rely on
my organisation throughout the world, and how my own
enlightened attitudes to the treatment of slaves were
causing a quiet revolution in our own country.  As a
leader of society, many others were seeing how my
humane methods of treating slaves paid dividends, and
a lot of the old practices of regular brutal
whippings, automatic castrations, and even amputations
of limbs deemed to be "unnecessary" for the job in
hand were quietly dying out.  Don't get me wrong - of
course you still need to whip slaves, and often the
only lesson a slave will ultimately take is a really
harsh whipping that leaves the flesh in shreds.  But
it should be just for that - to reinforce a lesson
that the slave needs to understand, in a way that he
will always remember.  Such brutal whippings merely
for the master's pleasure are, I think, somewhat
unnecessary.  But perhaps that's just because I
personally don't enjoy them - all that blood spraying
around, and half the time the slave's been driven into
unconsciousness and is not truly experiencing it
anyway.

But I must stop these digressions - I will perhaps
save them for my autobiography which I know is eagerly
awaited by those who would really like to know how to
manage and control a global business empire and
thousands of slaves.

When I arrived at my office the next morning, my
tattooist was indeed there - looking tired, as he had
had to travel the three hours from my estate to the
capitol at dead of night.  I keep the man occupied on
the estate, as in addition to their brands, all my
estate workers have their inventory number tattooed on
their biceps.  And since the introduction of the new
PC-attached barcode readers, I have also had standard
machine-readable barcodes added:  it's so much more
efficient to be able to simply pass the line of slaves
past a scanner and have the inventory compiled
automatically.  It also helps the veterinarian, who
can simply scan an injured slave's barcode and
retrieve his full medical history without the need for
the slave to say anything.  All in all, barcode
technology had brought huge advantages to masters with
as many slaves as I have.  I really don't understand
how, even with the huge number of Overseers they used
to employ, they managed the enterprise in my father's
day.

I also like to have the slave's name tattooed where
it's clearly visible - on the chest, belly, or back of
the slave, depending on the type of work he will be
primarily engaged in.  But the new trend is of course
not to bother with names - the numbers coming out of
the breeding programme are now starting to satisfy
most of the demand, and there's really no need to give
this stock individual names.  If the slave has grown
up in the breeding pens, and goes straight onto a
field gang where he will spend his entire life chained
to the rest of the gang, doing exactly the same work,
what's the point of individually naming him?  In these
instances, for consistency, I have so far had the
slave's number prominently tattooed instead of the
name, but my Overseers tell me that this is not really
necessary, so perhaps I'll not have it done.  I must
remember to discuss this at the next meeting of my
estate management committee.

Anyway the tattooist was waiting, and we descended to
my training chamber where I was pleased to see the
slave was waiting, kneeling in supplication as he
should.

I commanded him to his feet, and already could see the
benefit of the previous day's work:  the gold rings
flashed enticingly under the bright lights, drawing
the eye to the slave's handsome torso.  I could see
that the slave was not used to them yet, and as he
sprang upwards and they "flicked" under hteir own
weight, he must have felt a twinge of pain from his
still-scarred nipples.  That is exactly the effect
desired:  pleasing to the eye, and a constant reminder
to the slave of his status.

Calling the slave over to us, I then showed the
tattooist the problem - the "Semper Fi" tattoo on the
slave's right upper arm.  I do wish that men would not
have this sort of thing done - it makes it most
inconvenient should they be enslaved, as no master is
going to want a slave's body disfigured with designs
that he has not himself chosen.  It is, as I'm sure
you are aware, most difficult to erase tattoos once
they have been done, and it is for this reason that I
had decided to have the slave's upper arm covered in
one of those "tribal" tattoos consisting of strands,
rather like strands of kelp waving in the sea,
covering him from the collar bone down to the elbow
and extending over his back to the shoulder blade.
It's fortunate in a way that it was only his arm -
I've had friends who have bought "wild" slaves where
the slaves have previously chosen to have themselves
tattooed on the shoulder, ass, or even pecs, and then
aesthetic camouflage methods like this don't really
work (and how can you brand a slave in the traditional
place, when there is already a tattoo there?).

There were two concerns over this approach, however:
firstly, I wasn't convinced that only one arm should
be done, as I think that sometimes one of these very
heavy all-over patterns can make the slave look
overbalanced.  And secondly, I intended to have his
upper arm banded, and the horizontal gold band might
upset the symmetry of the predominantly "vertical"
kelp pattern.  Bear in mind that as well as hiding the
existing silly tattoo, this was designed to make the
slave more pleasing to my friends and me, and so
these were important considerations.

My tattooist is fortunately a master of his craft,
however, and after inspecting the slave closely said
that another solution might be possible:  the design
was primarily an "outline", with only some small areas
being filled in with solid colour, and that was red,
rather than black.  He felt that it might be possible
to "zap" the lines of black with a small laser, and
tattoo over the coloured solid areas with more colour,
this time to match the slave's tan.  He pointed out to
me that the slave was colouring to a most satisfactory
dark brown, as black-haired, rather swarthy types
often do, and so this was perhaps an approach worth at
least experimenting with.

There would be some pain for the slave, as the laser
actually heats up the black ink and causes it to
vapourise, causing minor burns all along the line of
the tattoo.  The burns cause the save pain, but if it
meant that I could have the slave's arm effectively
restored to normal without the need to cover it with a
masking design, I thought that this was a price worth
paying.  It would take a long time, too, at least four
hours, and I asked the tattooist if the slave should
be secured to the cage bars to ensure he did not move
during this time.

The tattooist told me that here could be problems,
particularly when the process had been under way for
some time, as the constant small burns tended to
overload the sensory system and build to a crescendo.
So before I could go to the office I had to make sure
that all was properly arranged.

Because of the length of the operation the tattooist
wanted to sit, and after we had positioned a chair
adjacent to the bars, it seemed that the best way to
position the slave was to have him kneel, upright.
Thinking about having the slave in this position for
four hours, I told him to go and piss, then allowed
him to kneel against the bars on the carpeted side of
the room - again, I hope you note my consideration for
the slave's well being, as kneeling for four hours on
concrete would have been much less comfortable.

Lashings of silk then held the slave's torso firmly
against the bars, so his body was immovable, and I
then stretched the arm out at right angles to his
body, and tied it several more times to the vertical
bars where they intersected with the arm.  The
tattooist seemed happy to work with the operating area
positioned in this way, and I decided to stay for a
few more minutes and observe the process in operation.

When he took the instrument out of his case, I was
expecting something rather spectacular.  But the
standard cosmetic laser he used was barely the size of
a large hand torch, and after it was plugged in the
tattooist held it comfortably in one hand whilst he
gripped the slave's upper arm with the other.  He then
started to play the pinpoint beam of laser light along
the line of the tattoo, and I was fascinated to see
the skin erupt as small puffs of what looked like
steam popped out.  After a couple of centimetres, the
tattooist stopped, and gave me a small magnifying
glass:  I could see that the skin was in fact scalded
along the line  where the tattoo had been, and was
starting to blister as skin does when boiling steam is
in contact with it.

The slave's body was tensing and trying to contort
whilst this had been going on, and I now saw that his
back was covered in sweat.  Moving around to the other
side of the bars, I observed that his face was
similarly wet,  and he looked to be in some pain - I
was surprised he had not cried out.

"Can you bear it, slave?"

"I think so, master.  I survived that, and so I
suppose I can survive it for four more hours!"

"I will give you something to help you, slave."

I went to my cupboard, and came back with a standard
heavy black rubber cylinder about an inch and a half
in diameter and six inches long.  Popping it between
his teeth, I said

"Bite down hard on this whenever you want to scream.
It will help you stop some of the screams, and will
muffle those that do escape - it is important that you
do not disturb or annoy the tattooist."

Again, this is an illustration of how well I treat my
slaves - many masters would not give their slaves an
aid like this.  I've heard that in the West when these
operations are performed the patient is often given a
local anaesthetic, but I would not inflict such a
thing on a slave of mine - it's too easy for these
pain-relieving drugs to become props to the slave's
personality, and they never learn to correctly
tolerate some discomfort.

Commanding the tattooist to continue his work, and to
be sure not to slack as I wanted to inspect progress
at lunch time, I went up to my office with high hopes
that this would turn out better than I had hoped.

The morning seemed interminable, and I was tempted to
look at progress via the camera and my PC, but when I
did, all I saw was the tattooist's back and there was
no clear indication of how the work was progressing.
But at some point he did stop using the laser and took
out another tool, and so I supposed that he was now
re-colouring the previously shaded areas.

I rarely eat a heavy lunch when there are not clients
to entertain, and at lunch time went straight down to
the basement.  The tattooist said he was finished, and
that he had high hopes that I would be entirely
satisfied once the burns healed.

"How did the slave react?", I asked him

"There was a lot of whimpering and moaning as the
morning progressed, sir, but that's to be expected.
As I said, it's rather like a continuous series of
scalds or burns, and it does tend to build up.  He did
pass out at one point, and I stopped for a few
minutes. When he came around I retrieved that chew bar
you had so thoughtfully provided - it dropped out when
he slumped - and gave it back into his mouth."

"And you're sure it will be undetectable?"

"No, sir.  To a discerning eye like yours there will
always be some marks on the skin there, and a change
of texture between the naturally tanned skin and the
colour of the tattoo.  But to your guests, I expect
that it will be unnoticeable.  If I may say so, sir,
this slave has an exceptionally fine body, and I would
think that your guests will be admiring the totality
of it.  And if they do focus on one part of it, it is
unlikely to be the upper arm - I myself have feasted
my eyes lower down:  his cock is so pleasingly well
proportioned for his general body, if I may say so,
and once he has been cut, it should be magnificent.
Of course I also like those flat, hard stomachs, and
his delicious rounded ass cheeks....."

"Yes, tattooist, I see what you mean.  It is indeed
unlikely that my guests will be looking at his upper
arms!"

I dismissed the man, then returned and untied the
slave's bindings.  As a slave should, in spite of his
discomfort from kneeling for four hours already, he
remained on his knees until I allowed him to stand.
He was clearly desperate to touch the angry red patch
all over his upper arm, but I commanded him to leave
it alone.  I said that when I returned that evening I
would use the analgesic cream on him, but I did not
want to do so immediately:  I am a firm believer that
a little pain is good for slaves, and, once again, I
wanted the memory of this operation, and how I had
been able to order it to be performed, seared into his
memory.

I was delayed in returning to the chamber by the need
to speak to the USA West Coast in "real time", but was
delighted when the slave refused my offer of a
soothing cream.

"Master, I have borne this pain for seven hours now,
and I can continue to do so.  I am an ex-marine, and I
can control my body".  I liked the "ex" - I was making
progress with this slave!

"Your trials are not yet over, however", I replied,
"as there is one more thing that remains to be done."

"I do not allow my slaves to have their cock-heads
covered, and I believe it is unseemly for any part of
the slave's body to be concealed from his master's
gaze.  All my slaves are cut, and we need to do that
to you, too, before you can take your place in proper
society."

I called the slave over,  and told him to stand where
I could reach his cock comfortably.  Taking it in my
hand, I slid the foreskin backwards and forwards over
the head, and noted that unlike on so many uncut
slaves, on this one the skin did not fall into
unsightly wrinkles when the cock was relaxed -
although my ministrations started to cause the slave
to become erect, and I had to did two fingernails
quite hard into the exposed head to cause it to
subside whilst I continued my musings.

"On the other hand", I continued, "It would have
something of a novelty value to have you uncut.  But I
really don't like the skin extending beyond the cock
head and forming a little sort of 'spout'.  I think
I'm going to be daring, and just trim the excess
foreskin away so that instead of a full circumcision I
cut just enough to expose about half the head and the
piss slit."

"It's fortunate that my father attended to the
education of his sons, as we won't need a specialist
in to do this.  Once I was twelve, I used to accompany
my father to the slave processing centre where all our
estate slaves are dealt with, and father always used
to enjoy wielding the knife himself.  He was a good
teacher, and I can circumcise a slave as well as any
man.  My father did not even mind me making a few
mistakes initially, as he said you could really only
learn by making mistakes, and of course my first few
slaves were blacks so there was little value in them.
I knew he had faith in me when he first let me cut a
big, blonde Aryan that he had paid a high price for as
a bed slave."

"I don't get time any more, unfortunately, but I still
have all my old skill and dexterity.  It's rather like
learning to ride a bike - once you have it, you can
always do it.  It will be good to do this to you
personally so that you will remember that it was your
master's hand that cut you - there are not many slaves
that can boast of that!"

"And there's no time like the present!  I am going to
the USA for a few days tomorrow, and if I cut you now,
by the time I get back both your arm and your cock
should have healed.  I really do want you out of here,
performing a useful job of work, so this ability to
overlap your healing with my trip is really most
fortuitous."

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

"I will forgive you for interrupting me, slave, but
don't make a habit of it, even if you were going to
thank me for the honour I am bestowing on you."

"Master... It's just that I don't think I can bear the
pain, master.  Please make sure I am securely bound if
you are going to cut me down there - I am so
sensitive, and if the knife were to slip...."

"Good thinking, slave.  You really are learning!  Your
consideration for me is touching, thinking that I
might injure myself with the scalpel."

"And you are right.  Take the small table and place it
next to the bars, on this side of the room.  Then
kneel on the table, and shuffle forwards so that your
knees and thighs are through two sets of bars and your
cock is positioned through the bars between them."

The slave did as he was told, and using my silk cords
I again lashed his torso firmly to the bars.  I used
other cords to secure his ankles to his thighs, and
his thighs to the bars.

I went into the cage, and looked at his cock hanging
down, defenceless.  I had of course had him positioned
so that the cock was pointing inside the cage, so that
any blood that was shed would fall on the concrete,
and not on to my carpet.  I then realised that I had
not had the slave carry a chair in for me to sit on
whilst working, and so I had to do that myself - I
suppose it doesn't hurt to do these things for
yourself occasionally, as it reminds slaves that you
are not helpless and could manage without them if you
needed to.

You do need to make sure the slave is truly immobile
before starting this type of operation, so I lifted
his cock up, and struck his balls sharply.  His great
scream rang out, but his body remained firmly fixed in
place - you can't fake that, as an unexpected slap to
the testicles like that would certainly cause movement
if any were possible.  You do sometimes need to do
these things that are, superficially, cruel to the
slave - but they are in his own best interests.  Best
to detect any possibility of movement now, and re-tie
him, rather than risk damage later.

There's so much fuss made about circumcision, but
basically it's perfectly straightforward.  In the West
it's either tangled up in religious superstition and
requires a lot of ceremony and chanting, or carried
out in high-tech medical centres with teams of people
in attendance.  On the estate, we have a much more
straight forward approach - the slaves line up on
arrival, and are processed down a narrow corridor.  At
the end, bars come out to clamp them in position, the
cutter's knife flashes, and the whole thing is over in
30 seconds.  The line hardly has to stop moving!


This was not going to be quite as simple, as I needed
to judge exactly how much to excise:  if I took too
little, I would suffer a setback and days would be
wasted whilst I re-cut.  If I took too much, my
objective would not be achieved and I might as well
have carried out a full, standard cut.  So I took a
lot of time, easing the foreskin backwards and
forwards, judging the effect.  And I needed to erect
the slave several times, and bring him back  to
flaccid by a sharp pinch again, as I carried out my
detailed examination.  I marked the cut line - a
fine-tip "magic marker" is excellent for this - by
drawing  a line all around his foreskin which was the
line I would cut to, and when I had finished, I held a
small mirror for the slave to see what was to be done.

"It's just a question of running a scalpel along that
line, basically", I said.  "A few moments of pain, and
it's all over.  I'll give you  a bar to bite on, as I
did this morning, but there's nothing to be ashamed of
in crying out if you really want to."

In fact, it's not quite as simple as that.   For a
normal circumcision, it is just a question of cutting.
 But here I really did want to be careful as the end
of the remaining foreskin would be highly visible as a
ring around the piss slit.  So I used a cut guard:
You erect the slave's cock, and make it as stiff as
possible (easy with this slave, as he always reacted
well to the feel of his master's hand).  Then you push
the head of the cock into a small conical metal
funnel, and tease the foreskin back up over the funnel
- there's always some slack skin to spare.  You then
have a good firm surface to cut into, and the "magic
marker" line should be clearly visible to guide you.

"Ready, slave", I asked.  But I did no give him time
to reply - even as I asked the question I ran the
scalpel quickly around the cut line.  Actually, with a
very sharp surgical instrument it takes some time for
a pain message to be generated, and I had done the
major part of the cut before the slave's body reacted
and he did in fact scream.

The only thing left - and this is the tricky part, as
it makes a big difference to the look of the final
work - is to cut underneath, where the foreskin joins
the cock head.  If you slice vertically downward,  you
can free some of the residual foreskin from the
underside of the cock head, so that it's much more
freely moving.  This is actually more of a trial for
the slave if you want to do it properly, as you need
to hold the cock up against the slave's belly, then
probe around between the skin and the cock head with a
very tiny scalpel - it does inevitably take a minute
or two, during which time the slave is, shall we say,
"in some discomfort"!

The final thing is to tidy up and get out - and I
adopt a simple approach:  no need for bandages and so
on, providing the wound is clean.  So I have a small
cylinder of antiseptic to hand, and simply push the
first couple of inches of the now-cut cock down into
it.  It always produces another scream, however brave
the slave is - the harsh antiseptic on the raw wound
on this sensitive part of the body causes the slave a
huge shock.  But, after all, it's over in a few
seconds.

"I will leave you now for an hour, slave", I said.

"The wound needs to dry out in the air, and the blood
needs to stop flowing.  It will heal superficially
very quickly. You may have noticed as a lad that if
you masturbated too much, without lubrication - and
young lads do not seem to want to buy tubes of lube,
or even use their own spit - you would end up with raw
patches on the surface of the cock.  But due to the
enhanced blood supply down there, those raw patches
would soon scab over and the scabs would drop off
within a couple of days:  quite different from most of
the parts of the body, where healing takes longer."

I was able to return in an hour, and release the
slave.  Then I gave him strict orders about not
touching either wound, and told him he could help
himself freely to the slave biscuits whilst I was away
- although I cautioned him to only feed himself twice
a day as usual, as it is important that the body
learns to be fed, and then to crap, on a regular
schedule.

Finally I told him I expected to see him even fitter
and harder on my return, with his tan complete.  He
must continue to exercise, hard, under the UV lights.
He would be almost ready then to take up his duties.

As I was going out of the door, I remembered one more
thing he could usefully be engaged in whilst I was
away, so I stopped just as I was about to close and
lock the door (was this really necessary now, I
wondered?) And said to him:

"Oh, and whilst I am away I also want you to review
training tape 7 and practice its contents - you'll
find all the equipment you need in my training
cupboard.  Ensure you are perfect in this respect on
my return."

"Of course, master."

I've mentioned to you, I think, that there was a small
problem in fucking this slave, in that he was not
properly clean inside.  My cock came out covered in
his shit, and as well as being aesthetically
unpleasant for me, I also could not enjoy the pleasure
of having the slave clean my cock with his mouth.
Some masters don't care, of course, and make their
slaves clean them even when their cocks are
disgustingly foul - indeed, I have even heard it said
that for some masters this adds new levels of sexual
pleasure as it further degrades and humiliates the
slave.  But I am a practical person, and there are
some prices that are too high:  the risk of the slave
getting vile diseases at worse, and a very upset
stomach a best, are just too great.

Perhaps these other masters only use low-price slaves
where it is unimportant if the slave is sick, and
where he can simply be dumped back onto the market or
sold into the mines.  Or perhaps they intend only to
uck the slave once, then take a new slave for their
next bout so it does not matter about "continuity".
But neither of these circumstances apply to me:  I
really only fuck premium stock, where the cost to me
of the man flesh is already very high.  And after I
have invested more of my time in training the slave to
my exacting standards, I want to reap the benefit of
this investment and enjoy several weeks of good
service from them.

I therefore usually insist on my slaves being
completely clean inside before I fuck them, and tape 7
shows the slave how to do this with the enema and
douching equipment in my chamber.  It can of course be
a delightful experience for the master to require his
slave to perform this cleaning in front of him -
especially for a proud slave, like my current marine,
it is a further extreme humiliation that the master
deserves to watch (At least for the first time).  But
I had run out of time, and so the slave would have to
practice and familiarise himself with it without an
audience.  Actually, I don't mind all that much - I do
enjoy running my hands over the slave's belly when it
is distended by the weight of water inside him, and
there can be a certain pleasure in forbidding the
slave to "let go" and making him bear the cramping
pains from his bowels for a long period - but these
pleasures are always spoiled by the general mess and
smell.  However careful the slave is to position
himself over the crap hole, the sheer force of the
first expulsion often causes some splashing, and that
general smell of faeces always manages to leak out
somehow. I just don't like it, and I don't care how
many people tell me that it can be fun to indulge in
"brown" activities with a slave, it has never appealed
to me.

I do not want you to think I'm prejudiced - as a young
man I did of course indulge in everything (don't knock
it if you haven't tried it, as they say!).  But I did
not then, and still do not, really see the pleasure in
crapping on slaves, or in forcing them to eat my shit.
 But each to his own, I suppose, and far be it from me
to forbid others from their own pleasures.

In fact, whilst I think about it, I should perhaps
remark that this is one of the characteristics of our
slave-owning society:  we are incredibly liberal!  In
the West, where so-called liberalism supposedly
flourishes, so much is forbidden.   Just take the case
of something simple like fucking a man - probably one
of the simplest sexual pleasures you can take and one
that does absolutely no harm.  Many in the West who do
not want to fuck men try to forbid it, and even go so
far as to denounce it as a perversion!  No one forces
you to fuck another man, after all, and if you don't
want to do it, don't.  But why try to forbid others
from doing what they want - it causes absolutely no
harm to anyone else.  It's almost the hypocrisy that
is worse than the actual laws they enact - they dare
to criticise us for our so called "human rights"
lapses, whilst denying millions of their own citizens
the sexual pleasure they deserve.

However, I digress, and should return to my memoir.
Knowing that the slave was good and conscientious, I
could be assured that on my return he would be
impeccably clean and sweet-smelling the next time I
decided to take him.

End Of Part 8