Dahran

This is the fourteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, submission, gay, sex

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The Dahran Way

Chapter 14 The importance of control

Shariff Khan

One of the advantages of having a large body of just under six hundred slaves, who are naked at all times is that it is quite easy to observe, which of them are well endowed genitally. That endowment may either be in the girth of the penis, or in its length.

There are all sorts of wild exaggerations as to the sizes of the adult male's genitals, but statistically speaking only one in five has anything to write home about, if slaves were allowed to write home that is, either as to the girth or length of their cocks when flaccid. Perhaps, another fifth might have something to boast about when erect, but that is another matter.

We have each slave's measurements in the database, so when I asked Ben Trant, my secretary, to get me a list of all, who had a penis diameter of two inches or more and a length of over eight inches, he produced two lists of over a hundred such slaves. That was far too many for the purposes of what I had in mind.

I then asked for a common list of those with a cock of two inches in diameter and nine inches in length. The list dropped to sixty one slaves, including three Swedes. Never let it be said that the extra inch does not count! I also noticed that over twenty of these slave were former EU prisoner slaves themselves, who had been framed for crimes, or where miscarriages of justice had occurred.

I remember quite well the morning after first inspection in the courtyard, when these sixty one slaves were told to remain behind and a new training procedure for future incoming slaves was explained to them.

Dumi Bod, as stables manager at the Lime Palace, explained in both Arabic and English in case of any doubt, what was involved though not necessarily every day. There was a spontaneous cheering with some slaves punching the air in approval of the suggestion.

It was also stressed to the slaves that if they did not want to be involved in this procedure they did not have to be and about one in ten told Dumi private that they did not want to be considered.

However, I have never known a slave, who did want to participate to excuse himself, or ever to be unavailable when called upon to provide this particular training service. It was one of the very few areas where the slaves of my Palaces, who are not assistant overseers or overseers have an actual choice in matters.

I also had Dumi tell the three Swedes present, to discuss the matter among themselves and their colleagues, if they wanted to participate in this project -- they being, after all, Gustav Ahlson's slaves and not technically mine to order about, though by coming to the Lime Palace they were agreeing to the duties of the Palace.

I was not surprised when the following day I was informed that the original list was ninety per cent intact and these slaves were available for the new duties, if and when called.

Apart from the use of our senses as human beings and our minds as intelligent beings, one of the most basic enjoyments of the human being is what nowadays is called sex.

Sex can take on a real dimension, or an imagined one. It can be a solo flight of masturbation, or a shared minimum activity with one or more persons of mutually jacking off, or a maximum mind-blowing and body-exhausting limit-touching session, but what must be stated very clearly, few persons will avoid sex deliberately when offered it in appropriate conditions.

The vast majority of my slaves at the Palaces are neither gay nor bisexual, but they do have sexual healthy appetites, which must be accommodated. I have determined as their Master that to deprive them of sex would not only be inhuman and in a way cruel -- but that it would be positively dangerous.

A Master has every right as a Master to be both inhuman and cruel, if he so wishes, but he is foolhardy if he engages in a long-term practice, which may be, not just simply negatively dangerous, but as I say positively dangerous inviting and courting disaster.

I am convinced that sex will out, that sex will always find a way to be had, or to be expressed. I am also convinced that my slaves, were they back in their own countries with their wives, or partners, or girlfriends would be having regular sex several times a week and would never cease to have it as opportunities arose inside, or outside marriage, or partnerships.

That arrangement is not possible at my Palaces and to create that bonding, which I consider very important in the long-term, each slave must have a minimum of sex with a buddy, who will either jack him off, or suck him off in the showers each morning and on their pallet beds each night. That is the minimum.

After that their imagination is the limit, with many engaging in oral sex, sucking their buddy off and licking and touching the buddy's body. Though I have never asked for a statistic on it, a definite minority engage in long-term penetrative activity.

However, each slave knows that he can change a buddy at the end of thirty days without having to give any explanation and if a dominant partner has been too dominant or demanding, he most likely will find himself very quickly without a buddy and find that he is being given one, not of his choice.

So at the end of the day, a sort of balance is achieved -- at least for thirty days each time.

What however is very clear from years of experience with slaves and their training is that basic sexual orientation is never changed be it straight, gay, or bisexual. What does change is that a majority of slaves, who have never ever seriously considered a second option of gay, or bisexual activity have it given to them on a plate.

I have never ever heard of complaints of too much sex after training and particularly, when the training in sexual techniques with Frank Kovacs is over from anyone, of any sexual persuasion. At times, those, who are definitely straight have murmured what they would not give for a woman to be around, but this is said in the same breath as they would say of soft drugs, a slug of alcohol, or a drag on a cigarette.

The long and short of this discussion with this group of slaves was that a panel was created, who would be called in rotation as required at the Lemon Palace compounds.

After work at the Bank one Wednesday, I had Faisal drive me to the Speciality Supermarket as it is called, downtown in the capital city, which is run by a Pakistani called Shariff Khan. He does a surprising amount of business, in that and another two sideline ventures of which I know. I do know, because he has his accounts at the Bank.

My purchases previously had been reasonably modest at his slave paraphernalia shop and in the buying of slave biscuits and supplies. He has special offers on from time to time, but these I usually ignore, but have always availed of his quantity discounts by buying the slave biscuits by the quarter ton. A slave biscuit is fresh for about a week and slaves appreciate a fresh one, much more than one as hard as a rock.

Now I needed a considerable amount of items for five compounds, if they were to be properly equipped. Greg and Jess and Niko and Rob had given me a tentative list of purchases to end all lists. Restraints, spreader bars for legs, canes, butt-plugs in all sizes, mouth-spreaders, conical-gags, ball-gags, blindfolds, five large heavy tables with contraptions to fix bodies and heads for oral sex and anal sex training and a complete outfitting for retraining room number three, to be inaugurated next to the compounds on the grounds of the future Lemon Palace.

For all its strange products, the supermarket is very much like a rather large ordinary store with its aisles and products on display. The only two real differences are that each shopper, such as I on this occasion, does not have a trolley, but rather a personal shopping assistant -- a PSA as they are called, who walks discretely some two or three paces behind.

`Ah! three-foot camel-canes. I'll take a dozen of these.'

No sooner said, than the item is inputted by your PSA into a handheld mini-computer, which is radio-connected to a personal monitor in the storeroom, where I was assured, no sooner was my order coded-in than the items were being taken down from the racks, stacked and packaged for me.

The second difference and if it were not true, it would be funny, is that the prospective purchaser can try out the intended purchase there and then.

Although this had been said to me on my first visit, it had not really sunk in as there were few in the store at the time and I had been purchasing slave biscuits, common or garden Velcro strips and alligator clips and bars and so on.

On this occasion, I picked up what was clearly a ball-gag for inserting into a mouth. They all seemed to be of the same hard rubber ball size, but I could not quite figure out the strap arrangement, which was attached to the ball.

`Master, let me show you how it works,' my PSA said, snapping his fingers at a slave, who stepped out as if by magic from behind and between two sections of the shelving. I noticed that he was a slave immediately by the GPS bracelet on his right ankle -- despite a very flimsy and almost transparent pairs of shorts, which he was wearing.

As the PSA had the ball-gag in his hand, it was clear to the slave that this was the item requiring a demonstration. The slave, who looked East European by his fair hair and cheekbones, immediately knelt down between the PSA and myself and opened his mouth.

The PSA slipped in the ball-gag and the slave `modelled' it in his mouth, moving his head from side to side with his lips wide open to show the position and size of the ball-gag in the mouth.

The PSA then slipped the strap arrangement over the slave's head and once he had done that I could see immediately how the leathers straps fell into place. He tightened them slightly with a key. The slave again `modelled' the item in its tightened present state. Some more twists of the key and the ball-gag was firmly in place, causing the slave to grimace severely.

`Would the Master like to see it fully tight?' the PSA enquired.

The Master did not and indicated its loosening on the slave's head, who took the ball out of his mouth, but did not return it to the shelf.

Seeing the question in my face, the PSA second-guessed it by saying `The item will be washed, Master, before being put back on display.'

I nodded to the PSA and said, I shall take twenty' and reaching out I smiled and patted the slave, still on his knees, on his head, Well done.'

The slave positively beamed and I got the impression that he was not thanked a lot in that establishment.

We went on to the next aisle. I could not believe the volume and variety of items on display. There were usually only two or three items of each type, such was their number. I stopped at one stand, which was of thumbscrews.

`Does the Master wish to test one? The latest type in Czech stainless steel is quite the rage.'

I took one up and found it to be quite heavy. My mannequin slave had appeared again and was holding out his left thumb to the PSA. I noticed a mark or something on the back of the slave's second thumb joint and putting out my hand I took his thumb between my fingers. My finger barely touched the middle of the second thumb joint when the slave gasped in pain. The thumbscrew had been used on him frequently before.

I took thumbscrew in my right hand and inserted my left thumb. I gestured the slave towards the screw on top of it He looked at the PSA in fear, asking with his eyes what he was to do. I wiggled my thumb and waved it at him again. He slipped on the thumbscrew and gave it one twist and stepped back.

`How many times is the thumbscrew twisted? I asked the PSA.

`Up to six times, Master. But please be careful.'

I pointed at my thumb again to the slave, who swallowed and gave it another twist. The screw was now firmly pressed on my thumb but not painfully so. I wiggled it at the slave, who again was swallowing and blinking his eyes. He twisted it a third time and pain shot up through my hand. He saw my reaction and went to release it.

`Again,' I said.

He took my hand in his and I could feel him trembling, he gave the thumbscrew a fourth twist and pain as I never ever felt it swept up my arm and left my hand a mass of screaming nerve endings.

Both the PSA and the slave saw my reaction and when I hissed `enough,' the slave quickly gave a reverse turn. The pain was gone in a thrice and the stainless steel screw was in his hand.

I looked at the back of my thumb joint and touched the rising bruise; again, pain shot up my arm. I wondered how many times a day the slave was tested with thumbscrews at level four and beyond.

I took a half a dozen of them.

The bulk of my other purchases were less exotic and I only had the mannequin slave test a training table for me, which had various ingenious pressure pedals, which raised and lowered sections of it. Once the slave was firmly attached to it by Velcro straps, some of these positions the PSA put him through looked painful if those positions were to be held for a long time and nothing else done on the body of the restrained slave.

I wisely decided that I had tested enough things for one day in the store.

Shariff Khan was positioned at what, in another supermarket, would have been the tills. Here, however, it was a series of small tables and sofas, where the PSA confirmed the list of items and their quantity, while refreshments were offered. The final bill came to just under fifty thousand euro. I had come prepared with some drafts as I had thought, in fact, that the total might have been more.

`A sizeable purchase, Sir Jonathan. If any item is not to your total satisfaction, there is a thirty-day window in which to return it.'

`Thank you, Shariff. Yes, a lot of items. A retrainer's work is never done.'

Two slaves with their Master at the next sofa looked up sharply in fear, when they heard the word `retrainer.'

`But your staff are admirable. I even was able to test one or two of the items on a slave.'

`Yes, Sir Jonathan. I saw. If you were to have come next week, we would have the new slaves in for testing.'

`New slaves?'

`Yes, Sir Jonathan, I change the testing slaves every two months. Their buttocks get accustomed to being beaten every day and do not jump around as much when a good camel-cane beating is being delivered by a Master or a Mistress for that matter.'

`And the slave today?'

`Jan? I shall sell him next week at the auction house when buying the new ones.'

I really do not know why I said it, but I asked Shariff what price he would be looking for the slave.

`I got him two months ago, Sir Jonathan, for eighteen thousand. I will be happy to get the same. He really has no great qualities or training other than having a pleasant personality and he has been thoroughly beaten by customers that much I can tell you.'

`Will you sell him to me?'

`Now, Sir Jonathan?'

`Now. Eighteen thousand. He may be of use to me.'

`Agreed. My pleasure, Sir Jonathan.'

As I pulled out another bank draft, Shariff Khan called over my PSA and spoke rapidly in what I took to be Urdu.

`Just a moment, Sir Jonathan and I shall have my son get you a bill of sale and the slave's folder,' he said and the PSA sped off in search of documentation.

While I was finishing a glass of rather insipid white wine, I realised the testing slave was now beside me, kneeling on the floor. He seemed to be able to appear and disappear at will.

`Do you speak English or Arabic?'

`A little bit of English and some words of Arabic, Master.'

`Your name is Jan?'

`Yes, Master. Jan Korda.'

`Do you know why you have been called?'

`No, Master. Young Master Khan said to kneel beside you. That he had to get something. I am sorry, Master, when I displease you.'

`Displease me, Jan? You have not displeased me. I have bought you. You are now my slave.'

I thought that might have eased whatever tension was in the blond slave, but it seemed to increase it.

`What is the matter with you?'

`Young Master Khan says, you are the retrainer and will retrain me better. You buy me to retrain me? I am sorry, Master, when I displease you.'

I was not getting through here somehow, but I was saved further talk by the arrival of Shariff Khan and the PSA, who I now could see had a resemblance to his father.

`Here are your invoices, Sir Jonathan, and the folder on the slave. Your purchases will be delivered this evening to the Lime Palace. It is a true pleasure doing business with you.'

The two Khans followed me to the door of the shop and they indicated to the slave to walk behind me and out to the car. As I got into the limousine, they seemed, from the angle I caught of their faces, a little surprised that I beckoned the slave to get onto the floor in the back and not into the boot.

Jan Korda sat on the floor hunkered down on his thighs. His hair was blond and down to his ears, short but tidy. His upper body was underdeveloped and as I glanced at his file, I saw that he had been a porter in a hotel in Ljubljana for four years, was single and unattached.

I motioned him close and ran my hands up his arms and around the back of his neck.

`Turn,' I said, indicating with my fingers what I wanted. He twisted around and his back was to me. I ran my hand down his back. Just under the skin, there where multiple ridges of hardened flesh. You have to know what you are feeling for. He had been beaten a fair bit on his back.

I slipped my right hand down inside the elastic of the almost transparent shorts he was wearing. If he had been beaten on his back, he had been doubly beaten on his buttocks. There were ridges upon ridges of welts there.

`Turn.'

He turned. He was not trembling, his eyes blinking.

`My name is Jonathan Martin.'

I repeated the name slowly for him, which he repeated with accents in the wrong places.

`Master, are you the retrainer?

I looked at him. Well-trained slaves are not supposed to ask questions.

`Is that important to you?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Why?'

`The retrainer...' and he made a scissors sign and pointed toward his balls in the shorts.

Ah, the wicked, wicked things that are said of me as a retrainer. As of yet, I have only had four slaves half-gelded. But I supposed that news would have spread like wildfire among slaves, who had gossiped with others.

`Take off your shorts,' and in case he had not understood, I mimicked what I wanted.

The slave fearfully slipped them off. A short treasure trail of navel to pubic hair led down to a fine bush of dark blond pubes. His penis was small. Well, admittedly the cold air was on in the limousine and would have shrivelled much larger organs.

I motioned him closer. He approached an inch. I motioned him closer again. Again, another inch. This was going to take all afternoon. I reached out and placed my hands on his balls, which were soft and small and warm.

Jan Korda closed his eyes and his lips were moving.

`What are you doing?'

`I am praying, Master, you no cut my balls.'

`I cut the balls off bad slaves, Jan. Do you understand?'

He nodded.

`Are you a bad slave?'

`No, Master, I am a good, good slave.'

`Secondly, I only cut big balls off slaves and your balls are very, very small. Are they not?'

`Yes, Master, very, very small.'

I could not help but smile at him and for the second time in our acquaintanceship, I thought I saw a flicker of gratitude.

`Show me your thumb,' I said indicating his hand. He did not seem to understand the word, so I indicated again.

He produced his hand very slowly and gave it to me. I put his thumb in my mouth and started to lave it with my lips and tongue. He was kneeling transfixed there. I changed the angle of his hand so that it was at right angles to my face and the thumb was sliding in and out of my lips. Every so often, Jan would open his mouth and breathe deeply, as if a little of the hurt was dissipated.

I was doing this for some minutes, when he took the thumb of my left hand put it in his mouth and started to do the same to me. We would have continued like this for some time, but tears started to run down Jan Korda's cheeks.

`Am I hurting you?' I asked in surprise.

No, Master,' he said, taking my thumb out of his mouth, you are the first person to be...to be gutig to me in a long time.'

Ah! He must have learned some German in school. I was being kind to him.

I looked at him and wondered how he had come to end up as a slave in Dahra and why in heaven's name I had bought him. It was not for his tackle that was for sure.

He placed his head on my thigh and it lay there for the remainder of the duration of our trip to the Lime Palace and as I stoked his blond head of hair in a half-distracted manner, I continued to ask my myself one of life's great imponderable questions, `why?'

End of chapter 14

To be continued...