From Soldier to Sub: One Man’s Story of Finding Joys of Submission
Photo credit: FemFataleFilms
I never intended to end up in the army if I’m being honest. My family had all been in one or other of the services, and I thought that my career was heading towards the art world or media, I was after all, an art graduate.
However, sometimes you just have to sit back and let fate take control...The standing joke of ‘What’s the most important question for an art student? Do you want fries with that!’ proved to be true, and I quickly realised that I had wasted 3 years of my life doing sweet fuck all, yet trying to convince myself I’d been studying. I ended up working in the leisure industry and it was here that I met my future peers. Ex soldiers… Wow, these guys had tales. They had stories. They also had missing fingers and ears. If you’d been to Tenerife then these guys had been to ‘Eleven-erife’. They had travelled, seen the world, lived the life that you see on action movies. It opened my eyes, my ears and gave me that craving for a bit of excitement, a bit of something different. I’d never been mainstream and I was never really one to fit in. Even now after returning back home after being away for 22 years - I don’t fit in. Or maybe it’s because I don’t WANT to fit in? The jury is out on that one. But I do know one thing, and that’s that I like that adrenalin fuelled sensation. Having a pint when you’re 16 is far more satisfying than when you’re 18. The night is always far more tantalising than the day. The taboo is most definitely much more fun… I was about to enter a world of testosterone, weapons, physical fitness, esprit de corps, and most importantly…porn and filth! The most innocent young man can join the armed forces, but after six to twelve months of being broken, ragged, screamed at and beasted, you end up with a different beast. You ended up being a Superman. No matter whether you were a clerk, or a frontline infantryman, the mentality was the same: You were nails (mentally if not physically). You also ended up being a drooling pervert in a world where porn was currency. The standard high street mags just didn’t cut it, so when you were posted to Germany it was like all of your Christmases had come at once (when it came to hardcore European filth). Germany was a fabled destination and well reknown as ‘the drinkers and the perverts’ posting. When I first turned up, I was greeted to the sight of a naked soldier, stood in the window of the accommodation block, wearing a helmet, with a beer in one hand and his cock in the other. That was Germany. One seedy alcohol fuelled mad adventure after another, and it was right up my street! I think this was the start of my path… my journey.