Dahran

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

The Dahran trilogies are composed to date of 6 novels:

Trilogy one:

The Changed Life

The Reluctant Retrainer

The Market Offer

Trilogy two:

The Special Memories

The Dahran Way

The Dahran Rebuttals (this novel)

Keywords:

authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission, gay, sex

This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.

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Chapter 10--The assumption of wrong

There are those who worry an inordinate amount and there are those who take life in their stride. I think Jack, my nephew, and Fiona, his wife, fall into this latter category.

They and baby Jason transferred to Gustav Ahlson's old home and renamed it the Wisteria Palace. Their four slaves Beno and Vedel, Harb and Narciso moved with them along with the, now fourteen, Scottish slaves who henceforth would look after the gardens and vegetable plots of the new abode. The fifteenth or rather the first Scottish slave, Andy, had finally got permission from Gustav and all the Swedes for Thor to go and live with him. The Swedes being the ultimate word in democrats took a vote on it which Bob Conrad classified as `neat'.

At the Wisteria Palace, there was more than enough space for all of them, as the Scottish slaves and others doubled in the bedrooms of one wing and Jack, Fiona and the baby lived in the other.

It was a good move, as it separated the family from the venue of the baby's kidnapping and its reminders and memories. It was closer to the capital city. The only drawback was that Fiona was going to have to find herself a new driver, as I would not part with Jess Tollman for love or money.

I transferred six million euro to Jack's account and from that he paid Gustav five for the residence. It gave both Jack and Fiona funds to play around with, because the couple really had no furniture in the place, once Gustav moved his own out. I also thought with a smile on my lips that it would keep the interior designer in Fiona busy for a while to come.

Gustav Ahlson's transfer to the Aloe Palace went without a hitch. One day he was not there. The next day he was. The day after, he gave the impression that he had been there for a lifetime.

`What leasing arrangement for the Palace do you want to put in place, Jonathan,' he had asked me.

We talked it over and I said I would get back to him, because, in my mind, there was the problem of a promise, more than a promise actually--part of a purchase agreement--that I had made with Abdou al-Akhri from whom I had purchased the Aloe Palace. I had said to Abdou that, I would sell the Palace back to him for the same price, were I ever to leave Dahra.

I tried to get Abdou in Geneva where he was normally based but a preparatory meeting of Government financial advisors for the Davos conference was on and he was not available for two days.

When he rang, he was ringing from his plane en route back to Dahra. I explained my problem to him and asked could I buy out the clause in the contract which would allow me to sell the property to Gustav Ahlson.

`Jonathan, there is no problem. I shall have my lawyers send you a codicil to the sale agreement to release you from that restraint. I put it in just to be on the safe side if Deckams transferred you out of Dahra after a brief stay. But I get the feeling that you will be around Dahra for a long, long time.'

`How right you are, Abdou! Dahra is my home in a way I would never have dreamed of four years ago!'

`You have actually saved me a phone call, Jonathan. You will be getting an invitation tomorrow to my 50th birthday party next week. And I expect to see you there!'

My mind went back to that time I had met him and his brothers at Rashid's, the eldest brother's, 50th party and the horror of seeing a slave being tortured to `death by thirst in sight of water.'

Two days later at the Bank, I received the Aloe Palace codicil from Abdou's lawyers. Separately, I had received his invite. I pressed the intercom and asked Gustav to stop by when he was free. He was having a rather busy time with some Chilean bonds.

`You were looking for me, Jonathan.'

`Ah, yes, Gustav. The Aloe Palace. It's yours to buy if you want it, now that you are in the money.'

He had told me that Jack's transfer for the Wisteria Palace was just sitting in a deposit account.

`I don't think I could afford it, Jonathan, not even with what I so generously got from Jack and Fiona.'

`The price is a million euro to you, lock, stock and barrel, but not the farm lands which I need,' I replied.

`Jonathan, it must be now worth eight, ten times that. I could not accept that price.'

`The price of the Palace is one million, Gustav. The price of friendship has no figure. I would love to have you as a neighbour for a long time.'

`You're serious?'

`Never more so.'

Gustav Ahlson reached across the desk and in true European fashion offered me his hand.

Done deal! And so it was.

This purchase price when deducted from his income from the sale of his home to Fiona and Jack, made Gustav Ahlson a rich man for the first time in his life. I thought to myself that he would be less prone to follow the diktat to purchase further slaves even at the request of a benign government.

There was one difference in Gustav's household unlike mine. He moved all his twenty plus Swedish compatriots as he called them--Thor's sleeping arrangements being with Andy McTee now with Jack and Fiona at their home--into the bedrooms of the Aloe Palace. But then, his slaves are very much sort of special in the scheme of things and he still had three bedrooms to spare for guests, if memory serves me well. I thought that Gustav was going to have to make some long-term arrangement about Thor, but that was his business.

The slaves at the Lemon Palace still had neither gym nor swimming pool and being of former criminal underworld and lower working class backgrounds, they were not interested in tennis, the sporting preserve of the middle and upper classes.

Komil had mentioned one day that those who had come through training had asked their assistant overseer to get them a ball. They then had levelled out a football pitch beside the fifth compound. In the evenings, after work, they had organised a mini-league of twenty-minute five-a-side matches. The heat of the day, still blanketing the Dahran evenings, really did not allow for that much of strenuous exercise.

And strenuous it was! No more serious football was ever played in the stadia of Europe and Latin America. They had some sort of elimination process in the mini-league, but some form of in-built re-absorption for the out-of-the-league teams. It was perpetual motion according to Komil, but with more enthusiasm. More like a Paganini Moto Perpetuo, I thought.

`Where is the referee?' I asked one evening as I looked on what to me appeared to be more of a melee than a match and yet, there was real foul play, quite a lot of grab-ass and even good natured jabbing at certain slaves' sole swinging ball, with the players instinctively pulling away at the pretended grab or jab.

The slaves were playing in their bare feet. The ball looked like something that had been trampled on by an elephant. But that did not stop either the play or the enthusiasm.

`Find out, Komil, if the slaves want proper soccer balls and if they want football boots. Say it is your idea. Also ask them about volleyball. And basketball while you are at it.'

Yes, Master. My ideas,' he said with a grin. Perhaps a couple of goal posts as well.'

`It will take almost another year for the Lemon Palace proper to be finished and then some more for the pool and gym to be built. Let's keep them fit with lots of exercise. Speaking of which, you seem to be well exercised yourself.'

I actually do an hour's hard training each day in the fourth compound, Master. No fat here,' he said slapping four perfect abs. And every afternoon, I take one of the slaves in the slave quarters before choosing another for the night. But, Master, I miss looking after you at night. I really do.'

`By the by, Komil, there are two new American slaves here, James and Daniel.'

`Yes, Master. I saw them coming in. Two balls each. Food and Drink take them out for an hour each day for Palace training.'

`Make sure that they are well and truly trained here, Komil, including as many sessions with that cock of yours as necessary. They have the potential to be great slaves, but also the potential to be an unmitigated disaster.'

Komil was grinning.

`Don't worry, Master, I shall give them some very deep and penetrating personal attention. I am sure that I will get their full attention and proper obedience to you.'

Days never flow the way you want. There are constant interruptions and we have to tame them like wild broncos or like wild slaves, otherwise they will enslave us with their disorganisation. But sometimes, just sometimes, things gel and all goes well.

I liked the way that David Tuttle was working. He was organised. He was determined. He had clear sight of what he wanted and how to get it. I was pleasantly surprised when the junior Mr. Annan of Annan and Annan, the capital city architects, who, to be fair, had won some prestigious international prizes, rang me at the Bank to complain about the bold David, who was too demanding', too interfering in the architectural process' and `too impatient'. Those were his precise words. To my mind, there were too many too's in the complainant's complaint.

When I got back to the Lime Palace, I invited David Tuttle to dinner that evening which in fact was a full table and said to him that we would talk afterwards.

Hal Thiecke, my original dentist, had dropped by unexpectedly. Cal Thorson, the now regular dentist, was going to be away on one of his lecture tours--giving some, attending others as a participant and Hal would substitute for him. Cal Thorson's surgery now looked like something off the Starship Enterprise, it was so far advanced, and he kept writing `papers' as he called them.

One of the Spanish tennis-court specialists who had installed the first courts at the Aloe Palace, Felipe Arguelles, now based in Dahra, servicing the entire Gulf area, was also a guest at table. Following the failure of his own marriage, he had bought out his partner Ramon, and he had decided to live closer to his major clients. He was servicing the courts at both the Aloe and Lime Places and every so often, he would check out my naked slaves. It was clear that his earliest inhibitions had long since disappeared.

I noticed that David Tuttle left the table at dinner-time briefly, but did not make much of it, thinking that he had excused himself to go to the bathroom.

After dinner, while the others engaged in conversation, I caught David's eye and we adjourned to the study, where he had left his plans and notes on the Lemon Palace.

As we were about to sit down, David asked if he could bring in his two slaves Jan Korda and Zoran Stepkov. I thought that he wanted them to come in and pay me obeisance, so I said `yes', whereupon he merely clapped his hands and the two slaves appeared. They must have been waiting outside the study door.

Both Jan and Zoran came in carrying a briefcase each and made a full obeisance to me, knelt in front of me and placed my right foot on the back of their heads. They then went and knelt at either side of David and each extracted a number of the files and plans that we were about to work on.

I looked at David. He was laying out his notes.

`Your slaves help you?'

`Oh yes, Jonathan, both Jan and Zoran are a great help to me.'

`I only meant them to be body slaves. They have no training in building matters.'

`Body slaves they are morning and night and very good body slaves may I add,' at which point he scratched both of their heads and was rewarded with quite a smile from each.

`But during the day, they help me keep track of things and keep on top of Annan and Annan and the builders.'

That's one of the things I wanted to mention, David. Annan and Annan are complaining that you are too interfering', is what I think the junior Partner said.'

`Jonathan, the junior Partner is not the one on this project. There are a couple of junior trainees from their office. And I am on top of those juniors, because day after day, they are not doing what you are paying them for. They fail to schedule. They fail to deliver. They fail to commission work. They fail to let me know how many units of direct labour are needed each week.'

I noticed how David had referred to my slaves as `units of direct labour'.

I looked at David Tuttle and my estimation of him went up a notch.

`Make me a list of the last ten items you noticed.'

David nodded to Zoran, who wrote something on a pad.

`You will have the list before breakfast tomorrow, Jonathan.'

`I think, David, you are a bit of a taskmaster.'

`Yes, Jonathan, I suppose I am. But a fair taskmaster.'

`Is he a hard Master,' I said to Jan at his side.

`No, Master, he is not a hard Master to serve.'

`Why is that?'

`Because he writes out a week in advance everything we have to do and we just do it. It is simple, Master.'

`And you, Zoran? Is Master David a hard man to work for?'

`Yes and no, Master. Yes, because he has so much to do and asks us to do no less than he does. No, because he works at our side and...'

`And what?'

Zoran was looking at David as if he had gone too far.

`He has never beaten us, Master. Not once, even when we make a mistake.'

`David, I am surprised at you. A stroke or two of a camel-cane each week, will get even better results the next week I always think--putting gas in a slave's tank as we say around here.'

David put out his hand and pulled Zoran's head toward him and kissed the slave on the forehead.

`What Zoran did not tell you, Jonathan, is that when he or Jan make a mistake they tell me. They don't hide it. I explain where the problem is and they don't make the same mistake again. Sure you don't, Jan.'

Jan was kneeling at his side smiling and shaking his head, `No, Master.'

`So, you see, Jonathan, no need for a camel-cane. But what both really help me to do is to keep the pressure on the architects' juniors and the builders.'

`Do you want an extra pair of hands then?'

There is always work to be done at the Lemon Palace,' he said with a laugh. Whenever you have a slave free, I have a job for him.'

The following day I laid into the junior Partner at Annan and Annan, with my list of ten points and a heart full of righteous anger.

`Mr. Annan, I am not paying your firm over a million euro to have my palace designed and built by office juniors. Do you want me to move the project to those young Bahraini architects who won that prize last month?'

There is nothing quite like facts and emotion all blended into one. Before the conversation was finished Mr. Annan was again personally handling the project and his juniors would be suitably rebuked for their lack of attention.

It was not one slave but two that I was thinking of for David Tuttle. The two missionaries would be soon coming towards the end of their training in the compounds and they were too intelligent and too well educated to be doing farm work on its own, however good the exercise would be for building up their already trim bodies.

As it turned out James Scott and Daniel Saxon came through the compounds with flying colours and I sent them to Frank Kovacs and his two assistants to be given some extra days of sex education. Being devout members of a church with a very limited perception of human sexuality, their knowledge of sex was theoretical in the extreme; their practices of it limited; their enjoyment of it even less. They received more than an eye-opener with Frank Kovacs' and Vitali Belov's techniques.

Komil Rostov's work at the Lemon Palace left a void in my household at the Lime Palace. There was no one like him, since Yuriy Obov to organise my nights. And a Master needs nights, like a flower needs the sun, or a body its food.

Food and Drink were increasingly engaged in being assistant overseers and loved every minute of it. But in so doing and being, they had lost that impishness which was so much theirs; that gaiety and simple-mindedness which was irrepressible; that dancing of attendance and miming of the triumphal parade in Aida, when marching in holding my briefcase and papers aloft, as if crown jewels were being brought back from Abyssinia in procession. I was losing them as body slaves, as they grew in their own `careers', so to speak, as assistant overseers.

Alas, nothing stays the same, but the river of life flows on without stop and as change occurs, we change with it.

It would be a question of how James and Daniel reacted to an exposure to responsibility and in particular, in meeting my own nightly needs, when they came through Frank Kovacs' hands and those of his assistants.

There is an assumption that wrong is wrong and can never be put right. There is also the assumption that something is always wrong, no matter what the circumstances. Both assumptions are false.

There is nothing in this world that time and effort, or as they used say in olden times `blood, sweat and tears' cannot achieve. The fatalism which suggests a thing can never be put right is defeatism. With the right facts to hand and the right attitude, just like lighting a fire under Mr. Annan Jr.'s backside, wrongs can be righted.

In the case of an ethical wrong, such as the enslavement of the two missionaries who should never have been where they were in the first place and, even less, doing what they were doing, notwithstanding their admirable beliefs, circumstances dictate that the remedy of the theoretical wrong, like the flipped coin landing on its other face, is the practical right.

When the training of the two young former missionaries ended, I had them brought to the Lime Palace to inspect them.

`You have come through your first thirty days of training at the Lemon Palace. How did you find them?'

The two missionaries were standing in front of me at `rest'. I had walked around them. I had felt their shoulders where the muscles had been strengthened by their overhead bar work. I ran my hand down their backs, now golden tanned from the hot, Dahran sun. Tan lines had disappeared. Neither flinched nor moved. Good. Something had been learned.

`It was very tough, Master,' James was the first to reply.

`Only tough?'

`No, Master, more than tough. It was frightening.'

`Why?'

`Because we did not know what was next?'

Aha! The fear of the unknown!

`And you?' I said addressing Daniel. It was he whom I had thought was always on the verge of tears.

`I've never experienced anything like it, Master.'

`You have learned something?'

`Yes, Master, a great deal.'

`What, for example?'

`That I can make my body do things that I never thought it could. That I can run faster than I ever thought possible. That...'

`That what? Finish your sentences. Don't leave them hanging in mid-air.'

`No, Master. That I was able to take those dildos.'

`A new experience?'

`Definitely, Master.'

The other slave was nodding.

`Had you had sex before you came here?'

James blushed and said, `with a girl, yes, Master, three times.'

Daniel was looking at him in surprised confusion.

`And you?'

`No, Master.'

`And how often used you jerk off?'

`Not very often, Master. I was trying to save myself for marriage,' James said.

I looked at Daniel and now it was his turn to blush.

`Once or twice a week, Master.'

And it was James' moment to look in a learning curve at his comrade in slavedom.

I was standing in front of both of the slaves and I looked down at their half-erect cocks. It is the case with a lot of slaves out of the compounds. They are pumped up. They are exercised. They are healthier than most previous times in their lives. And a good healthy slave has a good healthy erection when sex is being discussed.

`Why have you both got two balls? Did I forget to give an instruction for you both to be half-gelded like the others?'

There was an absolute silence from both slaves. Both were looking at the ground.

`In this Palace, when a Master speaks to you, you look at the Master.'

`Yes, Master,' both had their eyes focused on me.

I took a set of balls in either hand and raised and lowered them.

`Nice young, heavy balls. A lot of semen in them. Have you been looked after each morning and evening?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Have you been assigned buddies?'

I knew they had not. I wanted to see their responses.

`No, Master. Not yet,' James answered.

He seemed to be the spokesman for the two.

`And you have finished your training with Frank Kovacs on sex techniques?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Yes, Master.'

`Which technique did you like best, Daniel?'

Daniel swallowed.

`I liked sucking toes, Master and getting my nipples sucked.'

`And which technique the least?'

He replied immediately.

`Learning how to rim, Master.'

`Do you see anything wrong with rimming?'

`Not now, Master.'

`Have you been able to make James, here, come by just rimming him?'

Both blushed.

`I haven't rimmed James yet, Master.'

Interesting that he said `yet'. He was not excluding the possibility.

`And James, your best liked technique and your worst?'

`I liked learning how to suck nipples, Master and kissing another man, I liked least of all.'

`But you have learned how to do it properly?'

`Yes, Master.'

`And do you like it or not now?'

`Not as much as the massage techniques.'

Fair enough, I thought. At least, two, straight, jock guys were talking of sex before each other in a way that two months previously they might never ever have dreamed of.

`In my Palace, slaves do things with buddies. The first thing tonight and each night you are going to get acquainted with every square inch of your buddy's body, how it looks, how it feels, how it tastes, how it smells--every single square inch of your buddy's body. Do both of you understand?'

`Yes, Master,' was said and echoed.

`I am also going to assign two jobs to both of you. You are going to be my body slaves for a number of months, until I see how you work out. Do you know what a body slave does?'

`No, Master,' both echoed.

`A body slave looks after his Master's every need in the bedroom.'

Daniel's pupils contracted as his eyes opened wide.

`You will learn how to make my bed, lay out my clothes, wash and iron my clothes, attend me in the shower, keep track of those who will share my bed at night and when I choose you, you will show me how well you have learned your sex techniques. Do you understand?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Yes, Master.'

`Secondly, you will assist Master David in the building of the new Lemon Palace. He has lots of messages to be run and things to be done. You will assist him when your other work as body slaves is done. Any questions?'

`Where will we sleep, Master?'

`Wherever I tell you.'

There were no more verbal questions, but I could see a hundred unspoken ones in their eyes.

`Now get my bed ready for the night.'

Once my bed was ready, the two slaves were kneeling on the bed, their ankles over the side, and knees wide apart with their butts up in the air showing off the golden tan of a month's training in the Dahran sun. Each body was totally smooth skinned and the only hair on each body was the bottom belly trimmed pubes over the base of each cock, the armpits and their close crew cuts.

I stood between the two slaves who awaited my attention and ran a hand each over their smooth buttocks, feeling the softness and firmness of skin which is to be found in the well trained and exercised who are just out of their teens. Each one's balls were tight up against their under-bodies and I let my fingers frottage the disappearing wrinkles on their scrota, as the heat of my hand transferred to their depilated skins.

Both had a firm ridge of muscle down from their coccyx, down the changing colour skin, right down to the clenched centre of their most private of orifices which glinted of oil in the warm light of the evening sun.

I let a finger of either hand circle their tightness until they could accustom themselves to my touch and little by little, I worked my finger in into each tightness.

Daniel's was soft and pliant flesh, with his lubricated back passage entrance and his sphincter muscle acknowledged the presence, no more, of my finger but it made no autonomic moves to impede its entrance. His chute was moist and I felt its undamaged walls and its perfect smoothness. I let Daniel enjoy the feel of my finger as I slipped it further in and lay it upon his prostate which was smooth and firm and no larger than a cherry tomato.

`Okay, Daniel?'

`Yes, Master.'

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes slightly glazed and it might have been my imagination, but I thought that from time to time, he pushed ever so slightly back against my hand and finger, as it circled one spot and then another of his prostate. Glancing under him, I noted a long strand of precum hanging down from the tip of his penis, like a translucent pendulum of spider-web with the smallest of bobs on the end of it.

James was much tighter in his back passage though it had been comprehensively trained in the compounds of the Lemon Palace. While Daniel had pushed back against my first invading finger, James did not. He did not push away but he did tense.

`I am not hurting you, James, surely.'

`No, Master, it's just that I contract back there a lot when touched.'

`And not even the five centimetre butt-plugs loosened you up.'

`Oh, yes, Master, otherwise your finger would not have gone in so easily.'

So easily, I thought. Yes, with a bit of a push. However, I continued to gently let James feel the presence of my finger in his well lubricated passage, all the time giving Daniel the odd movement of a finger of my left hand.

Then I was through James' lower rectum and I could feel his prostate. When I touched it, he jumped on the bed under my caress of this most sensitive precum-producing gland. I set up a circular motion of my finger and he gasped. James was not trying to get away from my finger, neither was he trying to push back against it as Daniel had. His hands were clasped behind his back as his training would have dictated and were I to have had a hand free, I would have placed it in his to reassure him of my attentions, but with a finger of one hand up Daniel and a finger of my other hand up him, this was not possible.

I pulled my probing, middle finger out of James and introduced both my index and middle fingers into his tightness. It was like a complete change of gear. James gasped and it was the equivalent of the difference between someone shaking your hand and squeezing it firmly. The difference here was that it was the muscles of his sphincter which were now straining against my fingers.

My fingers entered firmly. There was no need of them to say hello to the walls of the rectum. My middle finger, on its first passage, had already exchanged a passing greeting.

My two fingers touched his prostate at the same time and James jumped on the bed, but he did not cease to stay in a kneeling position with his hands now firmly clenched, but not clasping each other, behind his back.

I separated my two fingers within the slave and allowed each finger to run up and down each side of the well-formed prostate. The touch was enough to force him out of his silence.

`Master, oh Master...Master...oh Master...'

`Am I hurting you, James?'

`No, Master, no. Nobody has ever done this to me. Oh sweet God, oh Master, oh Master.'

I could feel the prostate gland swelling under the gentle lateral massage of my fingers and then James pushed back hard against my fingers and brought himself over the precipice of no possible sexual return.

Daniel was looking across as his fellow missionary and buddy whose eyes were closed in sexual delight as he quite literally humped my fingers.

James was insufficiently sexually experienced to be able to hold on to his semen release which shot out of him like bursts of a machine-gun, splattering the sheet below, once, twice, thrice, four and five times. It was a release of semen of which any young man could have been proud.

`When did you last come, James?' I asked him when he had opened his still unfocused eyes.

`Come, Master? This morning, Master.'

Daniel was looking at his buddy James and at me in quick succession, visibly not knowing what to do or say. I let James rest and recover his breath. He was still in position; butt up in the air, hands clasped behind his back.

I positioned myself behind Daniel and with one fluid and firm motion of my hips, I let my positioned cock slide into him. It was like slipping one's hand into a glove, a warm, moist, lubricated, unresisting glove. With each trust, not so hard as to hurt, nor too easy so as to be ineffective, I aimed at the prostate which I had been massaging.

It was not long before I felt the rhythm of Daniel's thrusts back against me, until his sharp coccyx actually started hurting my pubic bone. My gentle penetrations were obviously having their desired effect, as he started to gasp and it was as if he wanted to say something but could not find the exact words and then from the back of his throat, Daniel started a low moan of pleasure which aahed' and oohed' its way in synchronisation with my thrusts and his backward pushes.

I slipped my hands under his kneeling torso and up to his chest where his young nipples felt warm to my touch. I took the nub of each between the nails of each of my thumbs and middle-fingers--quite an achievement for a lover who is intent on penetrating movements--and nipped both his nipples a number of times. The moan of pleasure became a shout and Daniel bucked back against me so hard that I almost lost my balance. He, however, lost control of his penile restraint and I could feel his entire body ejaculate its semen onto the to clean sheet below him.

`Master, oh, Master, never...I...felt...'

He was lost for words.

Could I blame him? No! Modesty aside, he was in the hands and sexual control of a Master in every sense of the word.

I was still hard, so I turned my attention to James who was still in submissive position on his knees, his head and shoulders pressed down on the bed. I slipped into him and set up a firm motion of full penetration and pulling out almost to the exit of his sphincter muscle. It does require some expertise, which, modesty aside, I do possess as a Master, because of my frequent practice. But soon his anal passage was no longer closing at its exit but waiting for my next penetration.

Unlike Daniel, James was now fully engaged in humping my cock, in pressing back against me when I entered him, in clasping my penis with his anal muscles as I withdrew each time, just as he would have been taught in the sex techniques classes. It was a case of aeon-old and millennial sexuality taking over and overcoming the reticence and reserve of more modern times.

With one final deeply penetrating thrust of mine which bounced off his prostate, James let out a cry of pure animal pleasure, as he shot his load of semen and seminal juices and shuddered his way to a climax the likes of which I am sure he had never felt before. This, despite his release some twenty minutes previously. I was convinced of this, when he collapsed on the bed like a deflated balloon. So much for looking to the needs of one's Master, but then in fairness, James Scott was a new slave who clearly needed that extra bit of training that a only Master, such as myself can supply.

James' series of ejaculations was sufficient for me to climax and I shot deeply and happily into his inner bowels.

I lay down on the bed and took Daniel's head in the crook of my arm and indicated to James to get his act together and to lie in the crook of my other arm.

`Thoughts, Daniel?'

`Sorry, Master, I don't understand?'

`What are you thinking?'

`I don't know what to think, Master. Nothing like that has ever, ever happened to me before. I have never come like that before' and for some reason he was looking over at James.

`James?'

`Master, I am totally confused. I am not gay, but what you did made me feel more alive than I have ever felt before in my entire life.'

`James, being gay is a sexual orientation. Having sex with another person, male or female, is an act of human sexuality. If one gay person has sex with another gay person, that is gay sex. The same with straights, that is straight sex. But what you and I have just had now, is simply human sex, pure, but never simple. And please, do not say it is going to make you gay.'

`It's not, Master?'

Was he sighing with relief I thought to myself.

`What do you think, Daniel?'

`I don't know, Master.'

`Well, do you think Daniel your sexual orientation is straight, gay, bisexual or non-existent?'

`Honestly, Master?'

`Quite honestly, Daniel, in your own time.'

`I think I am straight, Master, but at the same time I love what you did to me and what I was able to do with you. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before not even in the compounds.'

`James?'

`Same here, Master. I think of myself as straight, but...'

`But what? Speak in full sentences!'

`Yes, Master, but I hope that whatever happened tonight will happen again. Even though you made me come and came inside me, I have never, ever felt more like a man than I do tonight.'

As he said this, James was looking somewhere at the middle of my bare chest as far as I could make out. I disentangled my arms and put a finger under his chin, until he was looking me in the eye.

`James Scott, you are a man's man, and nothing I or Daniel will do to you will ever change that.'

I turned towards Daniel.

`Daniel, the same goes for you. You are a beautiful young man and it will be a pleasure for me to teach you a lot about your own body and a lot about sex and at the end of the day, you will still be as straight as a die, but a lot more knowledgeable and a lot more fore-bearing and tolerant of others and their sexual orientations.'

`Master?'

`Yes, James?'

`Will it always be as good as it was tonight?'

`No, James, because Daniel is not yet as good as I am and I want him to practise on you a couple of nights.'

Daniel half-opened his mouth in shock and James and I both had to laugh at his surprise. When he got accustomed to the idea, he started to smile and finally he began to laugh quietly as well.

One thing is very clear. While rape by definition is almost invariably wrong as an act of sexual force imposed on another, it can only be between persons. It does not refer to slaves in Dahra, who by definition are property.

However, in the case of my slaves, a robust sexual introduction, in its imposition, of sex with another man can be regarded in retrospect as a blessing. After it occurs, the slave will never fear it again, if the Master is caring of the feelings of the slave who will learn how to please the Master at those sexual times and out of the bedroom, on all other occasions.

The other misconception is that all straight men actually enjoy sex. That is untrue. There is a body of men who are simply asexual, for whom sex is of absolutely no importance. We see that all the time in those men who marry and abstain from sex, or in those who espouse a cause.

There is also a body of straight men who are quite celibate and simply live their lives as either single or married persons, without having sex. It may sound strange to some ears, but such men exist and I am not talking about monks in the various religions.

Another misconception is that all straight men dislike gay sex. Many straight men recognise that the best blowjobs are given by gay men who know what is what in stimulating a penis.

If we go further down this path of reasoning, we must come to the conclusion that straight people are unable to please each other, because they have no clue how the other truly feels. Which, as anatomical differences impose limits on empathy, is true, of course. One can communicate about what one likes and what brings one to sexual ecstasy. And one can watch each other's reactions. It is a matter of using senses, voice but most of all the brain. Some learn. Some don't. In other words, if one can find out what is what in stimulating a man without being one, one can find out what a woman likes without being one.

While dislike of gay sex is obviously true for a substantial number, many a straight man is quite flattered to be the object of attention, even the object of public attention, of a gay person, who can appreciate either his build, his muscle, his style or his sense of dress, but can be even happier when the spotlight of attention shifts off him, leaving him to the ribald comments of pals.

What is definitely very clear is that many straight men have had their best blowjobs from gay men and have never been turned into queers.

Sexual preferences differ like the colours in the spectrum of light which ranges from infra-red to ultraviolet. If Daniel Saxon's and James Scott's orientation was at the heterosexual end of the spectrum, where more often than not it is situated, so it would remain for all time.

While both might have a barrier or two taken down as to their prejudices about those who are gay or those who have sex with them in my Palaces, the loss of barriers and of prejudices in no way constitutes a change of sexual orientation. What changes is their perception of wavelengths other than their own in the continuum ranging from exclusive orientation towards persons of the same sex, to exclusive orientation towards the other sex. In this respect, sex as practised with and among my slaves can be an eye-opener.

The inverse, of course, applies equally. My secretary, Ben Trant and his lover Gianni Centini, are both gay and openly so, known for their sexuality to myself and the general body of my slaves, who themselves in their vast majority are purely and simply heterosexual. The daily interaction of Ben and Gianni with the body of slaves will never change their sexual orientation and vice versa.

My nephew Jack, it seemed, had found his own orientation to lie among the yellows and greens of the centre.

The entire spectrum taken together constitutes the light that emanates from the glow of human sexuality.

End of Chapter 10

To be continued . . .