This is the fifteenth 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 15 The importance of authority
Komil Rostov
Maybe it is because I am a banker, but I believe in basics. Facts in black and white. Figures in plus or minus. Debtors or creditors and no grey areas in between.
I took ten days of my holidays in June back in England immediately after Jan Korda's purchase, because Colin Bowman, my junior partner was to take his in July and I knew Gustav Ahlson, my other junior partner and general manager, would as usual take his in August.
When I came back from summer holidays in England, it was an ideal, opportune time for me to observe closely how the basics of the processing and training of the new prisoner slaves was getting underway.
The five compounds were in place and the new retraining room, which both Greg and Jess had insisted upon was now in place at the Lemon Palace. I asked them why not use the one at the Lime Palace and Greg appeared to be shocked.
`Master, the Lime Palace is for trained slaves,' he stated, as if that explained all.
So, I had agreed to a retraining room and five training compounds proper being erected and after a few instances of trial and error with the first consignments of EU-prisoner slaves, the programme seemed to be functioning very well, though I thought that all of us were always learning something new.
The Lemon Palace's programme around the farms proper took almost a year to accomplish putting in the irrigation, twenty eight thousand poplars around its perimeter, with double that number of palm trees to form an effective wind barrier. The phoenix dactylifera was my preferred one for its wind resistance and the quantity of its summer and autumn crops. The wind in from the Rub al-Khali -- the Empty Quarter -- and from the Dahran desert itself is not only be cold, it can be cutting.
I intended using these new slaves to bring the new property's farm into production and as we would build the new Palace, they would also be able to help in the manual labour. We needed to lay the irrigation, plant the fences of trees and totally replant with whatever crops we would decide on. If the training programme was successful, I hoped to have an abundant docile and dedicated workforce on what would be a totally separate property at the Lemon Palace -- though geographically joined to my other Palaces.
Each slave was going to be trained in each of the new compounds for six days, so all going well, a slave should be able to finish basic training in thirty days. However, as we certainly did not expect the incoming prisoners to adapt easily to their new status, training could be extended to thirty six or forty days or even longer, to have even the most recalcitrant of slaves submit.
If any slave turned out particularly difficult, the trainers would always have the option of sending him back to start the procedures of training all over again -- the implication being that you don't advance out of the compounds until you are totally obedient to the Master's will.
However, at the end of successful training and I considered this a little bit of advance psychology in that it would happen before the slave actually would start working on the farm, the slave would be given a number of things such as a full medical, his eyes being checked and in all cases -- I have never known a slave not to need it -- the full capping and evening treatment of his teeth.
One thing, which I expected to delay procedures somewhat would probably be the removal of a serious amount of tattoos on my former prison inmates.
Komil, my farm manager at the Lemon Palace, had informed me one evening of the first of the new shipments due in, so I made it my business to be on hand to witness how matters were being handled.
By half past eight, you could already feel the heat of what promised to be one hell of a day. We were having wind-free days, with temperatures in the high thirties.
The blue transit van arrived on time from al-Qatim and deposited its five occupants on the sands at the entrance to the holding compound. There were five new slaves in all, including my Austrian and the Catalan, whom I had previous seen being half-gelded. There was also a Serb out of a German prison, a Bosnian out of a Dutch prison and an Italian.
While Komil signed for the delivery, the five tan folders of their histories and backgrounds were handed to me. The list of criminal activity engaged in by these five aged from twenty eight to thirty nine years actually boggled the mind. If I had to imagine a series of criminal behaviours I could not have, from car theft with violence, to bank robbery, fraudulent conversion -- whatever that was -- to drugs to trafficking in refugees, the list of criminal jargon went on and on.
What struck me first was that they looked disoriented, blinking in the bright morning sunlight. All were naked with their wrists locked to a waist-belt and a spreader bar of around two feet between their ankles connected by light chains to ankle restraints. This reduced their mobility to almost nothing, capable as they were of getting slowly out of the transit van and little else, reducing their walk to a shuffle and not more.
All had been quiktatted with a SIN to the sole of their right foot at al-Qatim and fitted with a GPS bracelet, which glinted in the morning sunshine, placed on their right ankle.
While all would have been given the basic fifteen commands in both Arabic and English, there was never a guarantee that any would have any mastery of either language, so that morning, as would be on such future mornings, there was a slave present, who spoke each of the languages.
As I was present that day, Komil deferred to me and had one of his assistant trainers hit a camel-cane against a wall. The noise created an immediate silence in the holding compound.
Today, the Master is with us. His name is Jonathan Martin. You will address him as Master' at all times. My name is Komil. You will address me as `Sir' at all times. Is that understood?'
Each of the translators translated the words. If a slave did not respond, the translator, who was standing behind each slave or slaves had the instruction to go close to them and prompt them `Yes, Sir.'
That morning the Austrian was the only one, who did not reply to the prompt. The translator stood back and the assistant trainer brought the camel-cane, which he had cracked earlier on, across the back of the slave. The surprise stroke left the slave on his knees. The translator went behind him again and said `Yes, Sir.'
The slave mumbled a `Yes, Sir.'
Komil put his hand to his ear and looked at the Austrian slave. The slave said `Yes, Sir' loud and clear as the translator took his elbow and assisted him to his feet again.
Komil's next commands gave the new slaves a chance to show whether they had learned anything during their stay at al-Qatim.
`All of you, turn and bend,' he instructed them. There was certainly no need to order them to spread their legs, which were being held firmly apart by the spreader bars.
Komil nodded to Rob, who went back to the entrance of the holding compound and returned followed by the twenty nine slaves whom I had purchased with the new property. On seeing me standing among the training overseers, all dropped to the ground in obeisance with admirable speed, as they were expected to do on seeing me for the first time any day. I thought that their stables overseer had obviously been teaching them better manners since the day when I had first inspected them.
Komil told his charges `Walk past these five slaves in single file and take a good look at them. You will see that the Master has had them all half-gelded. Move.'
There was a rapid défilé past the bound and bent-down figures.
`Now stand over there and wait for the Master to inspect you.'
On Komil's instruction, the farm slaves quickly filed over to the side of the compound.
`You five, up again and turn,' Komil told the newcomers.
Let Niko and Rob take over from here,' I said to Komil. We two have a little matter to settle with those former overseers.'
The twenty nine slaves formerly belonging to the al-Shaad family were lined up in perfect order. They went to `display' immediately again without even being told as I approached.
As we arrived before them, Komil turned to me.
`I have said, Master, that one of these two slaves is to be half-gelded. I cannot decide, which as one is lazy in the fields and one is lazy in bed.'
`You are both lazy. The loss of a ball will make you more attentive to the needs of the stables manager and of your fellow slaves. Is Komil wrong?'
`Mercy, Master. No, Master, he is not wrong, but please have mercy,' Zeki begged.
`Mercy, Master,' Berk echoed all the more earnestly.
Both had now dropped to their knees and were kissing my feet and those of Komil.
`My punishment is that your gelding is deferred until Komil decides on it and you will offer your fellow slaves every night your arses to be fucked and you will suck anyone in the morning who wants to be sucked.'
It was a punishment which would stay in place for over a year.
In July, one of the nicest evenings I had was in the company of Aziz al-Aziz, my head of household at the Lime Palace and now a freeman himself. I had a small residence built for him of about three thousand square feet beside the cacti gardens of the Lime Palace.
Seven of my slaves had been transferred to his ownership and since then had been very much putting his house in order and serving their new Master.
I was delighted to receive an invitation to dinner at Aziz's residence and I looked forward to viewing it, as I had not actually seen it after its completion some months previously. I had been curious as to why no invitation had arrived earlier, but then all things come to those, who have the patience to wait.
I was quite amazed at the interior décor of Aziz's residence. It was done in a totally Arab style with delicately painted tiles, floor to ceiling, interspersed with plain coloured batiques on the walls. The floors of the entrance, hall and what for me would be a salon or sitting room were in terracotta tiles, covered elegantly with small rugs.
Clearly Aziz had gone to great trouble in the decoration, as not a single item was out of harmony with the next, or the overall scheme of things. The salon or sitting-room, which ran almost the length of the residence had various settees and sofas around it piled with cushions and there were various low cushioned poufs in plain colours around the largest of the settees. These Aziz said were for the slaves to sit on when they were in his presence in the evenings. I looked at him but made no comment.
Aziz explained to me as he reminded me that the second floor had five main bedrooms and the top floor nine rooms for two slaves each and that his slaves, though they were but seven at the moment, lived under his same roof.
When I was seated beside Aziz on the settee, I realised that the room had only two doubled-glazed windows, which ran the entire length of the room facing west to catch the glory of the Dahran sunsets and the evening light and a mirror salon on the other side of the residence served as a breakfast room, which would get the morning light.
Hassan, one of the present Arabic teachers on loan from Aziz to me and his buddy Pavel, were the appointed waiters for the evening, as they placed low tables beside each of us and kept us furnished with an unending series of bowls of delicacies of the Sheikdom.
I noticed that Aziz ate very sparingly, as if old habits died hard. To his left, kneeling on a rug were Mamoud and Mehmed, the two layabouts, as I always mentally thought of them, who looked very, very fit and immediately beside him, his personal body slave, the giant Bulgarian, Yedo Petrov.
We finally ended up with small kebabs of delicious lamb with saffron rice. I had noticed that I alone had been served wines throughout and that Aziz was content with a plain liquid fruit juice.
I had to compliment him on his residence and he glowed at the praise, but that praise was truly meant. When the meal had ended Jiri Aron and Ali Tisani came out the kitchen area and made an obeisance to me. They apparently were the new cooks of the residence.
`I can see Aziz that you have a perfect household.'
`My slaves are performing admirably.'
`More than admirably, Aziz, that was a splendid dinner,' I said and saw Jiri and Ali grinning at one another.
`Yes, I have had to make some changes in their duties as you would have known them, Jonathan. Jiri and Ali are now my cooks. Pavel looks after the residence. Mamoud and Mehmed have created a new garden for me. Hassan, I shall get back from you in time and Yedo looks after me.'
`Garden, Aziz? I did not know you had a garden. May I see it?'
The two layabouts seemed to be on leashes as they looked at Aziz awaiting his confirmation.
`Why, yes, Jonathan, if you wish,' and he led me out through the breakfast cum dining-room, through sliding glass doors into the most perfect water garden I had ever seen.
The garden must have been all of an acre and totally surrounded by an eight-foot wall, which would explain why I had never viewed it from the outside. It had fountain after fountain of lightly cascading waters, the most intricate series of interlinking ponds, small paths of different coloured gravels snaking their way, this way and that, through what appeared to be entirely local flora and sand-bearing plants.
Though the day was warm, the garden was cool because of the water and there was the most magnificent perfumes coming from the flowering shrubs and plants.
`Aziz, I am amazed. You have done all of this in a less than a year. I am truly amazed.'
`In fact, Jonathan, it is the work almost entirely of Mamoud and Mehmed. They work on it from morning till night, even during some of the hot hours.'
I was looking in amazement at the two slaves, who previously had to be supervised rather closely to get anything out of them.
`And how often has your Master had to put gasoline in your tanks with a camel-cane?' I enquired jokingly.
I was doubly amazed when Mamoud replied, `the Master has never used a camel-cane on anyone of us, Master, since we moved here. Not once.'
`Aziz?'
`Well, Jonathan, a couple of times I have been tempted,' he said with a smile.
It was very clear that a very good relationship existed between the Master and his seven slaves.
`So, what punishment does the Master inflict upon you, when you don't behave?'
`Master, we have to say sorry to the other slaves,' Ali replied.
`Sorry?'
`Yes, Master. Because if I do a job badly I have to do it again, or another slave is then going to have to do it better. And that way, we waste time. So we have to say sorry to our brother slaves.'
I looked at Aziz and I thought to myself that even though you can know someone, you can always be surprised by hidden depths.
That evening I stayed the night at Aziz's residence, the first guest to overnight there. Jiri and Ali were my body slaves for the night. It was only when Ali started to work his magic with his tongue on my back-passage and Jiri worked his massaging touch over my back, that I realised how much I missed them both. In fact, I missed each of Aziz's slaves and made a commitment to myself, to try and not separate or sell good slaves from my service ever again.
End of chapter 15
To be continued...