Dahran

This is the twelfth 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 12 -- The assumption of domination

There is a false assumption that those who are sexually tops never like being dominated. That is a loaded statement as there is the implied thought that a top is one who likes to dominate always and therefore not in turn be dominated and that a bottom is passive and will not take on a dominating role ever.

We spare ourselves much needless erotic confusion when we stop thinking about being something, and start thinking about doing something. Many of my slaves can both top and bottom, in that order, and vice versa, as the comic says. It is a question of timing and circumstance and to a lesser extent, of training.

One of my favourite slaves is Ross Wells. I say favourite because I always remember him as a call-guy I used to have in London before I ever owned a slave, and subsequently as a talented lover at the Aloe Palace when he first arrived there. Top or bottom, he was both according to my whim and a pleasant eager personality at all times.

His purchase as a slave had been preceded by a curious accident. I had discovered his face -- and his charming butt -- in a catalogue on the occasion of my very first slave auction in Dahra. I might well not have gone there, that is why I believe the Fates look after us all.

Some extra information had come to me on his lifting in London and I made enquiries of the slave dealer, as to the two companions who had been lifted with him, a Mark Tornby and a Jim Brown. Both had apparently been sold on to the Pakistani supermarket owner, Shariff Khan, at whose place I buy my slave accoutrements and feedstuff.

My enquiry was answered very easily. Shariff Khan had held on to them for two months, as he was accustomed to do, and sold them on, when their backsides no longer responded quickly to canings, to a leather factory owner.

It was easy to purchase them and they were sent to the Lemon Palace for training. When their training was completed and there seemed to be no great problem with their coming to grips with the procedures of the Lemon Palace compounds, I called Ross Wells to my study one day.

`Ross, you are a picture of good health. I am hearing good reports about you in the English classes.'

`Boss, I am not really a teacher, but I try to make the classes interesting.'

Ross Wells had started the trend in the Palaces for slaves to call me `Boss' and a lot of the slaves now did so as well.

`We're going to need more English teachers with all these new slaves coming to us from Europe, so I have bought two for you.'

That stopped the smile on his face.

`For me, Boss, what do you mean?'

`Now that Andy McTee has gone to the Wisteria Palace with Master Jack, Mistress Fiona and their extended family of Scottish slaves, I need someone to run and organise the English classes, or so Ben Trant tells me. Do you want to give it a try, Mr. Overseer Sir?'

And I took out a black onyx fly-swish and laid it on the desk.

`Run the language school? Boss, I don't know what to say? I barely completed A-levels before I went to work as an escort.'

`Ross, don't run yourself down. You're skipping over assistant overseer and up to...' and I handed him the fly-swish.

`Boss, are we on our own here?'

`Yes, why?'

Ross came forward and put his arms around me and hugged me tight--so tight it hurt.

`No one, Boss, has ever trusted me to do things the way you have done and the way you do. I won't let you down' and there was a catch in this throat.

`By the way, Ross, the two English teachers I have bought are a Mark Tornby and a Jim Brown.'

`Boss, I know them! They were with me when I arrived in Dahra. They are great guys. As for teaching English, they'll be great. They were even at university.'

`Well, Ross, you better get down to the Lemon Palace compounds and have a word with Niko and Rob and claim them, before they each lose a ball. By the way, how are you and Vitali getting on?'

`Boss, you have no idea just how well we get on. It's not all sex, though he is far better at sex than I am, and I used to think myself to be the expert. It's being good friends as well, who just happen also to be lovers.'

`Let me know how you organise the English classes and make sure you keep your two new guys in line.'

Ross Wells gave a double thumbs up sign and almost ran out of the study.

Ross,' I shouted after him, overseers walk. They do not run.'

He turned on his heel, radiated a smile comparable to Dahra's morning sun and said, `Yes, Boss.'

`Ross, get yourself a pair of overseer's khaki pants.'

Again a double thumbs up sign and a pair of the best buttocks in the Palace flashed out the door. It is such a pity, when civilisation takes over that we cover the best bits and pieces of our anatomies!

One interesting aside to Ross taking the two new English teachers in hand, was that he brought both of them to bed with himself and Vitali and taught two very top guys, how to be perfect bottoms. I personally think its was the fact, that the new guys went through with it so well and so quickly, because Vitali was teaching them quite advanced sex techniques, but I don't have that as gospel.

Each Saturday morning, when we start our week at the Bank, Gustav Ahlson normally takes the invitations of the week and sorts them out between three of us--Colin, my other junior Partner, Gustav himself, and myself. As I work at the bank now only Mondays to Wednesdays, it means Gustav and Colin have to look after the Saturday, Sunday and Thursday functions, so that I invariably end up with what in the Western calendar would be start-of-week ones, Monday through Wednesday.

This saw me at the American Embassy on a particular Tuesday mid-afternoon in a pre-Thanksgiving reception. Strangely enough, I had not been to the Embassy previously, as Gustav had always filled in. The place was packed. I mingled. I unmingled. I edged toward the edges and a disembodied voice said at my side, `Sir Jonathan, it is a pleasure to see you.'

It was the Cultural Attaché, Augustine Budd Chavez. "Mr. ABC" as I had jokingly called him on one occasion.

Augustine,' I said, nice to see you.'

It was the name that I had called him by way of a code. If previously, I were to have called him `Budd', it was to indicate danger or difficulty in speaking freely. No one, if listening would have suspected anything, putting the name down to a faux pas on my part.

`People call me Budd, sir.'

And I thought that he emphasised the `Budd' just a little.

`I was just about to get a breath of air, Budd. Such a crowd here!'

`Then, come this way, Sir Jonathan,' he indicated with his hand, in the general direction of the French windows to one side of the building.

We walked out and under a striped canopy-covered walkway into the garden, which was sheltering those strolling from the late afternoon sun. Budd took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and we sailed down the garden.

`Only my family and true friends have ever called me, Augustine, Sir Jonathan.'

`So do I call you Augustine here?'

`Yes, sir. I think it is would be fine here. The Ambassador mentioned to me that you have never come back with any form of request of him or of the Government.'

`No, and I do not intend to, and if the Ambassador ever asks tell him my position.'

`And the two missionaries, sir.'

`They are well-adjusted servants at my Palace. I actually saw them yesterday. They are very happy in the scheme of things.'

I did not tell Augustine Budd Chavez that they had massaged my feet and back and that Daniel Saxon had been taught to rim exquisitely.

`Sir, you mentioned once in passing that I might not be cut out for the cloak-and-dagger stuff. I told you that I am a genuine Cultural Attaché and that is totally true. What would you say, if I was thinking of taking up a career in banking?'

`Banking in general or a particular type of banking?'

`I have, Sir Jonathan, a good degree in international finance and business. I would hope that would be a base, a launching pad. And Dahra has been an eye-opener.'

`Do you realise, Augustine, that you have just referred to Dahra in the past tense? You are already that advanced in your plans to leave the Diplomatic Corps.'

`I am, sir. That I am. I want to consider my time here to date, as experience and not as a failure. Banking would be a change of direction and of career.'

`And why are you considering such a change, may I ask?'

`Sir, being very frank, I have found the last three months here very difficult. Nothing is quite what it seems. There are too many layers of political intrigue, even in Cultural Affairs. And...'

He was hesitating, as if he had said too much and yet wanted to say something else.

`And, Augustine...you know whatever you say goes no further.'

And, sir, my orientation does not help. It is a case of do not ask and do not tell', if you understand.'

I looked at Budd Chavez and wondered how my gaydar had not worked. Perhaps, there had been too much static, with the problems of the missionaries.

`I understand better than you can ever know, Augustine. And what outlet have you found for that orientation, while here in Dahra?'

`None, sir, except on my own in my own room and even then I am not too sure, that I am on my own, if you understand,' and he rotated his fingers in the air. Those looking on would have seen nothing strange in the gesture. But surveillance has its own semiotics.

I looked at Augustine Budd Chavez and my heart went out to him. He was not the person to be in the job or place, which he now occupied and where he was now stationed.

`Who do you know in banking?' I asked.

`Apart from you, Sir, and some family contacts, no one, sir.'

`Well, Augustine, if you would like to train at Deckams in either London or New York, just say and I shall speak to personnel.'

`Sir, that is far, far more than I could expect from you, you know, after the episode with the tape-recorder.'

`Augustine, I shall tell you about that one day. Just let me know which city, if you choose Deckhams and I shall make a call. You have my telephone number.'

`Sir, I am in your debt. You really do not appreciate the weight that has just come off my shoulders.'

`Perhaps, you might like to be my guest for the weekend at the Lime Palace.'

`Me, sir? This weekend?'

`My guest.'

`Sir, I would be honoured.'

`I'll have the car collect you later this evening, Augustine.'

I try not to pry. I really do. I think it impolite. However, in the case of Augustine Budd Chavez I bent the rule ever so slightly. To look after him for the weekend, I assigned Terry Peoples to him. First and foremost, because Terry was doing nothing else of importance, secondly being younger than Budd Chavez, I felt he would pose no `threat' to a rather inexperienced young man still coming to grips with the expression of his own sexuality.

Terry on the other hand was more experienced that I care to imagine, though this sexual experience had been in the servicing of one Master from a very young age. Now, I was not sure what his sexuality might be. But capable of handling the young American diplomat it would be. The third reason for choosing Terry was that both he and Budd were English speakers, though Terry due to his years spent in Dahra felt more at home with Arabic than with his native language, and one does try to have one's guests, at least linguistically speaking, at their ease. Therefore, I had Food and Drink, my former body slaves, explain very carefully to Terry what was expected and more importantly what was not expected of him, in and outside the bedroom.

Budd Chavez arrived late Wednesday evening having been collected by Faisal at the Embassy compound. I had a number of other guests, both invited and self-invitees with an open return ticket so to speak.

Self-invited was the doe-eyed Abu al-Shaad from whom and whose family I had purchased the lands of the Lemon Palace. Abu was on a break from university and had made himself available the previous weekend as well.

Also self-invited was Gus Jennings, my general manager of the company which was marketing and selling the sunscreen milk-sap and purgative laxative being produced at the Aloe Palace.

After dinner I had the two former missionaries, Daniel and James, standing by at the veranda steps. As we came out to take a stroll around the gardens, I took Budd by the elbow and called my two slaves over.

Addressing them I said, `it was through the intervention of this man that both your heads are still on your shoulders. He effectively saved your lives here in Dahra. You may make a submission to him.'

Neither of the two required prompting, but dropped to their knees before Budd and myself and the group of guests and put their heads to the ground. Then kneeling up, each in turn kissed Budd's hand. I think he was a little embarrassed, but pleased at the same time at the honour that was being shown him, and so publicly.

I noticed that Budd had not spoken at all to the two slaves, but merely nodding to me, accompanied the group towards the water gardens on our evening stroll.

When we found ourselves at one point side by side, he said to me `Sir Jonathan, thank you for introducing those two to me and for letting me know that they are safe. They look well. But, I think the less I know about them and they about me the better. It is a chapter in my life I never want to have to repeat.'

My estimation of Mr. A.B.C. went up a notch. That evening, Terry was waiting for him in his bedroom, and Terry filled me in afterwards, but I will admit I was curious.

For all his experience in matters sexual, Terry is youthfully statistical.

`Master, he fucked me hard three times inside the first hour. It was just that and no more, three good strong hard fucks. When that was over, I asked him what he wanted me to do, perhaps something no one had done for him before. He thought a second and said he wanted me to lick him. I was going to ask him where, and before I could, he was kneeling on the bed with his butt up in the air. I rimmed him, Master, for almost an hour until he came his fourth time. He had never been rimmed, Master, and he still is a virgin back there. I had not yet come off, and I asked him if he wanted me to fuck him or enter him, but he didn't, so we went and had a long Jacuzzi, where he sat me on the edge of the Jacuzzi and he jerked me off very gentle-like. I couldn't help it, Master, I came very quickly as I had not come for two days.'

Terry must have seen a sign of my disapproval of an experienced slave in sex techniques coming so quickly in the hands of a mere novice.

`Master, I could not help it, he had his finger up my bum and he had found the golden spot as my old Master used say. Between jerking me and touching my golden spot, I just shot and shot and shot.'

Well, maybe,' I thought to myself, Budd Chavez is not that inexperienced.'

It was however the only occasion that he was able to be a guest at the Palace in that year.

I suppose that it is natural that time passes and we do not even meet, or interface with a lot of our friends and acquaintances, or in my own case with a lot of my slaves, despite the effort I make each morning to inspect those who are in the courtyard.

Then there are other times when paths seem to cross frequently. Daniel Saxon and James Scott, the two former missionaries, are a case in point. With the promotion of Food and Drink to assistant overseers and Komil to be the Lemon Palace Stables' overseer, Daniel and James had become my body slaves. In the greater scheme of things, whether that was a wise decision, I do not really know.

`At rest.'

The two body slaves had been at `display', when I came up to the bedroom for the night. Both were now superbly bronzed all over. They had lost some of that excess fat, which unexercised living produces, as a result of a strenuous two hour, daily exercise régime under Rolf, my gym Master, who is no slouch on putting programmes together.

I could see my clothes laid out for the following day on the dresser. The bed was turned down. They seemed to be showered, I thought as I looked at slightly damp heads of closely cropped hair. Had I put my hand between the cracks of their backsides, I would have expected to find lubricant on their back passages.

They now knew what had to be done each evening to prepare for my arrival. I held out my arms and let them start to undress me. Daniel's eyes were bright and had a slight smile in their corners. James came forward as well, but his eyes were in neutral.

`James, give me one of your foot massages.'

`Yes, Master.'

I detected a note of relief in his voice. He was not being asked to do anything, which was in his own mind still weird.

`And Daniel, while James is massaging my feet, let me see how good you are at rimming him.'

Daniel swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, but he said an immediate, `Yes, Master.'

I pretended to read a book, while James was working away on my feet, which were in heaven. He has such a firm touch that it is really first class.

Every so often, I would peep down and his eyes would be half closed, as his thumbs massaged the soles and balls of my feet and behind him, Daniel's face was not to be seen at all, buried as it was between James' buttocks.

`Now, James, start using your tongue on my toes and feet.'

`My tongue, Master?'

`Your tongue. You have been taught how to?'

`Yes, Master.'

After about fifteen minutes of having my feet laved, James said, `Master? Can I try something else? Daniel has me very relaxed back there.'

I put down my book, which I had not been reading anyway, and nodded to James, who came up between my legs and started washing my balls with his tongue and flicking his tongue up my shaft. I was hard within two minutes. James moved up over my hips and positioning my now hard cock under him, with his eyes closed in concentration, let himself sit down on it and I felt myself enter his warmth.

Daniel had lost the angle for rimming James, so he came up and started his favourite activity of sucking my nipples.

James' slight motion up and down on my cock, his clenching and relaxing were amateurish, but they were an honest effort from a straight guy trying to please his Master. He brought my two hands up to his nipples and I obliged by stroking and pinching them hard. James was too inexperienced to hold on and his climax rose like a rogue wave out of the depths of a sexual ocean and he climaxed three times up my torso. He opened his eyes, looked at me, at Daniel and went down on my belly and chest and licked up the cum.

`James, do you know what you have just done?'

`No, Master.'

`You have effectively raped your Master.'

`No, sir. I have made love to my Master, as best I could. But I don't think it was very good for you, Master.'

`And for you, James?'

`I have nothing really to compare it with, sir.'

`What do you think, Daniel?'

`I think, Master, that James is really trying to please you, Master.'

`Why?'

`Because he is trying very hard like me, Master, to be a good slave. It's not that easy.'

`Just follow what you are told to do, Daniel and try at all times to please me, your Master. Nothing else and at the end of the day, both you and I will be very happy. Okay, James?'

`Yes, Master.'

`And James, I will never ask you again to sit on my cock, though you did it very well.'

`Why not, Master? Did you not like what I did.'

`I did, James. But you did not and I am not going to force you that way. In my service, you can please me in many, many other ways, sexually and non-sexually. Does that make you more comfortable?'

`Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

`But I want to hear good reports from Master David on both of you and from Ross Wells.'

`Ross Wells, sir?'

`Yes, you are both also going to be giving some classes of English, Daniel, to the new slaves. That tongue of yours is going to be put to another use, just like yours, James.

`Yes, sir.'

`Yes, sir.'

There is a definite attitude among some slave Masters that slaves have to be treated as morons or cretins or worse. I hold quite the opposite view. Many slaves are more than intelligent than their Masters, and where given interesting that is to say non-boring, things to do, they can be left up to their own devices having to report back in due season to me, the Master.

My slaves like it that way. I like it that way and what I like goes, otherwise why be a Master of slaves?

The now respectful attitude of both James and Terry, as my body slaves, proved to me one thing that while the Master may be a dominator in every sense of the word, a Master cannot dominate at all times. A Master must recognise human nature and as in the case of James doing his best to ride my cock--fair play to him and all that--it was a case of subservience on his part, but not of domination on mine. Had it been domination on my part, I could have well and truly forced my way into him and secured his penetration with firm and powerful thrusting strokes of my cock.

James had still not learned to relax sexually and I am not talking about his anus. He was not yet at home' with sex. It was in his general geographical neighbourhood, but he had not yet invited sex home', as a true and valued friend, an illumination of the human condition and as an exhilarating release and expression of our genes.

I was sure that truly liberating and soul-wrenching sex would arrive one day for James Scott and when it did I wanted to be a witness.

Sex for Daniel Saxon would be another thing. For Daniel, I believed it was going to be an interesting adventure, much more so than for his friend James, because Daniel has an adventurous soul that loves the unknown. I can see it in his eyes. I could feel it in his touch when he disrobed and clothed me. I could appreciate it in his sponging down of my body in the shower, when he used the loofah a lot slower than James. Yes, Daniel Saxon wanted to navigate the lower and upper reaches of the river sex and all her tributaries. He might not know about sex fully yet, but he would learn. If I was lucky, I would be at his side when he would make those exciting discoveries of body, of soul and of self.

The call I had expected from Budd Chavez came and I was delighted in and surprised at his choice of venue. He chose London. I would have bet that he would have preferred his training in New York. I let John Tunnor in Personnel know of Budd Chavez's impending arrival.

`What do you want him to learn in particular, Jonathan?' John asked.

`The works, John, the works. Start him in the post room.'

`No better place to start', was the tart reply.

We assume far too much at times, either for our own good or for the good of others. I had assumed that both Daniel Saxon and James Scott would get on well together--what with their backgrounds, the episode that they had come through, narrowly avoiding beheading by the skin of their teeth and also having been inducted into the life of the Palace together, through the compound training at the Lemon Palace. I also assumed that by being my body slaves and being so similar in so many physical aspects, they would work well together.

One particular evening I had finished dinner with Gustav and Yves Fournier, the palace Doctor and we were sitting on the veranda having some iced tea, when there was the sound of raised voices and shouting off to one side of the courtyard. The voices echoed round the courtyard without being intelligible and the hum of conversation among the slaves, who had finished their meal, dropped to nothing as all turned to see the spectacle of one slave attacking and punching another.

It was too far across the courtyard to see precisely what was happening other than one of the slaves was throwing punches. The other seemed to have been caught by surprise, as he took two punches to the head in quick succession and a series of thumps more than punches to the upper body.

Then another slave was between the two trying to keep them apart and all of a sudden another three or four were up and standing, pulling the two away from each other. There was a handclap from those around the group as those around as if they either seemed to know what was going on, or were applauding the their fellow slaves who had separated two brawlers who, by their intemperate actions, had clearly come to the attention of the Master across the courtyard.

As this had happened in front of my very eyes, so to speak, I could not ignore it and just let an overseer deal with it. I saw Stan, my property overseer, nearby with a number of his assistants and allocated slaves and I half-shouted to him, `Get those two over here.'

I was very surprised to see Daniel and James being led across, Stan having a hand on either's shoulders, as he forcibly frog-marched them over. James made a shrug to get Stan's hand off him, but Stan had a firm grasp. They were being followed by Roge Harte, who was looking strangely sheepish and by Terry Peoples, the young catamite I had purchased from the al-Shaad family.

`Does anyone wish to say what is going on?' I enquired half-rhetorically, as if a Master ever needed to ask such a question.

There was not a noise in the courtyard, as the entire slave body was all ears to hear the cause of the interruption.

`Well?'

Daniel and James were shooting daggers at each other with their looks.

`Well? I haven't got all evening.'

Roge Harte stepped forward and said, `Boss, I think I am the cause of this.'

He was blushing furiously.

`No, Roge, he started it,' Daniel shouted half-pointing at James.

`You started it. You and your lover,' James retorted.

There was a collective audible sigh from the slave body. A romantic fight over a lover between two friends!

Roge Harte had gone beetroot red.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I looked at Daniel, who cleared his throat and said `Sir, I was going to ask you tomorrow to allow Roge and me be buddies.'

`There, I told you. Him and his lover,' James shouted.

Someone gave a handclap among the seated slaves.

`Okay, show time over. Go and take a walk around the gardens,' I ordered the seated and hunkered slaves in the courtyard in a loud voice which carried to its four corners.

There was an audible groan. The dénouement of the lovers' tiff was far more interesting than a walk in the gardens, but the slaves got up and headed between the buildings towards the walkways and water-gardens, various putting their arms around the waist of a buddy, or over a buddy's shoulder, some casting an eye back in the direction of the quarrel-crossed lovers.

`So, Roge? You and Daniel? Is it to be?

`If that's okay with you, Boss. I'm sorry that James reacted like this. Daniel said that he was going to speak with him about me being his buddy, but did not get around to doing it and I sort of butted in at the wrong moment.'

I was looking at Daniel whose left eye was beginning to swell and who had a cut on his cheek.

`Roge, take Daniel over to the surgery. See if Randy is around and have him look at the eye.'

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Dr. Fournier, `Jonathan, let me look after this young slave.'

`You're off duty, Doctor.'

I'm back on duty, Jonathan,' and with a finger beckoning Daniel, he took Daniel's elbow saying, let me get something cold on that eye. You are going to have a beauty tomorrow morning,' and he walked Daniel over towards the surgery followed by Roge Harte.

I was left facing James, who was still breathing deeply from all his efforts and shouting. Terry Peoples was beside him and I got the impression that he was rubbing James' back.

`Are you calm now?'

James nodded.

`You do not attack your fellow slaves. Do you understand that?'

`Yes, sir.'

Turning to Terry, I said, `get me a camel-cane from the retraining room.'

He looked at me with widening eyes, but turned on his heel and sped off.

`So, James, you had no idea about Daniel and Roge and you did not give any reason for Daniel to go seeking Roge? What have Terry and you been up to? He seems to be more than a bystander in all of this.'

`I--I--I thought Daniel and I would always be buddies. We came here together. We trained together.'

I realised he was talking of his time in the US and prior to enslavement.

`We've always been together, even since grade school. Now...'

`Now, James, he has found another buddy. Do you think it is for the sex or for what?'

`No, sir, he and Roge say that they just want to be friends. He was my friend, sir. He is my friend,' and with that the tears streamed down his face.

Terry had returned with the camel-cane. It now seemed inappropriate, but a wrong had been committed.

`Bend over, James and hold the back of your knees.'

He looked at me and through his tears, he bent down and clutched the back of his legs.

`Count off,' which he did.

While my head was with the caning, my hand and heart were not and the ten blows to James' backside were so light that they hardly changed the colour of the skin of his buttocks.

`At display.'

He stood with his hands behind his neck. I handed the cane back to Terry Peoples, who just stood there frozen to the spot.

`What am I going to do with you now, James? I think you are more attached to Daniel than you care to admit. Are you going to come to blows with a new buddy, with whom you have a jealous disagreement? And who would have you as a buddy after the spectacle you just created here?'

`Master?'

I looked at Terry. Slaves do not speak unless spoken to and it was quite enough to have one slave to deal with at a time like this.

`What?'

`Master, I'll have him as a buddy, if he chooses me as well,' and he looked down at his feet.

`I think, Terry, you might be a bit much for James. He is older than you, but you have a lot more experience of sex than he has.'

`Master, it's not for sex. I just want a friend. He races me in the pool.'

`James?'

`Please, Master. Terry is good fun and we get on well together.'

`I can't have you and Daniel as body slaves together. It just would not work. If I send Daniel to work with Roge in the gym then and you and Terry can look after me as body slaves, I think that might work out.'

Terry had stepped close to James and there was a pleading look in his eyes.

Okay,' I said, we'll give it a try. Terry go and tell Roge Harte and Daniel to come here, when the doctor has finished with him in the surgery.'

`Yes, Master,' he replied quickly and sped off as he does.

`Well, James. A bit jealous of Daniel's good luck with Roge? Roge is a good guy. There is nothing false about him and he will look after Daniel well. I would almost bet you there will be no sex, but a lot of talk about footie.'

James was wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his hand.

`Yes, Master. I had just never considered being without Daniel here. Apart from Terry, I know nobody here.'

I knew that was a bit of an exaggeration, but I let it go.

Roge, Daniel and Terry came back. Daniel had a plaster on his cheek and some ointment over his eyelid.

`Roge, you have a new helper in the gym. Find Daniel something to do there, and build him up a bit so that the next time he is punched, he can punch back and not just stand there.'

`Daniel, Terry is going to be my new body slave, but from time to time, when thing settle down with you and James, I'll have you work again as a body slave to me. However, Roge is far more important to me than any body slave, so make sure that you look after him well for me.'

`Yes, Master,' and he looked at his former pal and buddy, James standing there looking at him.

`Now off with the lot of you. James and Terry find me Stan Mercer. We are going to need to order a stronger type of camel-cane. You barely have a mark on your backside, James. So consider yourself lucky tonight.'

Domination takes on many forms. It can be a simple physical act like a stronger wrestler pinning another down in a one-on-one situation. It may also be the physical domination of an individual over an entire group, much akin to a mustang stallion over his herd of mares.

But the more serious forms of domination are those of the spirit where the personality of the individual is masterfully in charge of those around. You can see it when certain people walk into a room and you know they will sit in the top chair to preside over all. That domination may be either benign or malignant. And even a benign domination in the wrong situation can quickly turn malignant.

Though young, barely over twenty one years, David Tuttle was acting as my engineer on site for the construction of the actual Lemon Palace buildings. I had assigned him two slaves, Zoran Stepkov and Jan Korda, as his body slaves and he had turned them into secretaries-cum-assistants on whom he relied a lot. It sort of gave him a triple capacity personality or so he said when dealing with the providers and the architects.

David had no inhibitions about demanding the help of others, what in some circles would be called bossy' or pushy.' When he wanted manual labourers, as he needed each day, he always gave priority to Jerzy's five Dahran Arabs and to Jess' two Michiganers, Shawnie and Paulie, or those who were not elsewhere engaged. However, Jess told me one day that Paulie and Shawnie always asked to be allowed work with Master David.

`Why?' I had asked.

He just has this way of explaining things,' Jess replied, and never loses his patience. I know my two hang on to his every word. Give you an example, Boss. Paulie is not the sharpest pencil in the box and one day he had to bring in various batches of tiles from the stores, blue, beige, black and red, right up to the top floor. So Master David told him to remember bbbr.' That didn't work. So he told Shawnie to remember blue and beige as beep-beep' and to remember black and red as beep-arrrhg.' Shawnie laughed so much that he went around all day saying beep-beep', `beep-arrrhg.' But he got the tiles up to the top floor in no time at all, in time for his fucking by Master David.'

`Fucking?' I said astonished.

`Yes, Boss. Master David likes fucking the slaves who used to be straight.'

Used to be straight? Jess, you don't leave straight' at the gates of the Palace. You are or you are not.'

Jess looked at me.

`Boss, each afternoon after lunch, Master David has either Shawnie, or Paulie in his office. I have seen it. He just strips off, has the one whose turn it is come in, bends him over his desk and takes him. It's the same with one of Jerzy's five Arabs an hour later. Each of them is taken at least once a week.'

`And there is no problem?'

`None whatsoever, Boss. They all look forward to it and they all come off before he does. He has great staying power once he's in the saddle.'

My respect for David Tuttle was growing by the day.

When I quizzed Paulie about it some days later, he said with a smile, `Master David always waits until I have come, Master. He keeps aiming for some sweet spot inside me, until I explode, and then, Master, he tells me I'm the best and the tightest. I know I'm not and I know he says the same to Shawnie. It's just he way he says it and you know you are real special for him, at that very moment.'

`I suppose back in Michigan you rarely went with guys?'

`For sex, Master? Not in a thousand years! I used have as many girls on my fuck-stick as I could get. Hard and fast, I can tell you I was. But here, Master, it is different. I have Shawnie as a buddy and we jerk each other off as we are supposed to do, but Master David is special and I don't mind at all when he tops me and makes me feel so good every second day.'

I wondered if ever the thought had arisen in Paulie's brain what one reason for his high turnover rate might have been. In all probability, few of the girls in question would have deemed his technique interesting enough to come back for more.

It was obvious that it would take him a while to learn to actually do something for somebody's pleasure. At my Palaces, there is abundant time and opportunity to learn these things. David, it seemed, did not mind Paulie's inexperience.

While we were talking Paulie's cock was becoming semi-hard and its tip was weeping a drop of precum. He saw me looking at his lengthening cock.

Master, even thinking of what Master David does to my hole makes me hard. I would never have admitted this to anyone a year ago. But now, I can't wait to get more of his cock up me and I still think I am straight,' Paulie said with a laugh. The same for Shawnie, Master. Perhaps not as much as me. He has a harder time being topped by either Master David, or Overseer Jess.'

`Jess, takes you both?'

`Yes, Master, me on a Tuesday and Shawnie on a Thursday and five strokes of a cane every Friday.'

`Five strokes?'

`Yes, Master. He says it's to put gas in our tanks for the next week.'

For a slave who once liked to be a sub to Greg Logan, my driver and overseer, Jess Tollman was coming into his own!

End of Chapter 12

To be continued . . .