This is the twenty second and last chapter of a novel about present-day slavery and gay sex. A sequel The Seventh Desert will follow in time.
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 22 -- The assumption of continuity
We tend to be intimidated by taller people than ourselves. At six four, Dmitri Soliduk, my new Russian slave was taller than I by a couple of inches, yet with him, I did not feel any sense of intimidation, rather on the contrary, I felt that he was in fear of me.
In a way, he had every right to be. I was his Master and in Dahra, I had control of life and death over him and no one to question my rights as Master in any manner.
James and Terry, my body slaves, had put him standing `at rest' beside my bed and out of the way, while they undressed me for the night.
`Are you two still here?' I asked.
James blushed, `Yes, Master.'
`Well, off you go. Look at Terry. Heis becoming more and more erect the longer you are keeping him waiting.'
`But...'
`But nothing, James. Go look after your buddy. Dmitri can look after me.'
`Master, he doesn't speak English, or Arabic yet,' Terry countered.
`He has the basic commands. We'll get by. Off you go.'
The two departed a bit reluctantly. I looked over at Dmitri and beckoned him over. When he came over, I took him by the cock and led him into the bathroom. He might as well learn how to bathe a Master, I thought to myself and indeed, I was not disappointed, as he soaped and sponged me down, so gently, it was quite definitely as if I were about to break into smithereens at any moment.
He dried me off and I dried him off, much to his surprise. It gave me a chance stroke his entire body and to pull back the generous foreskin on his sizeable flaccid cock, which started to harden even under the gentlest of ministrations, with its deep purple head staying wetly outside the covering foreskin.
Beckoned in with two fingers, Dmitri followed me submissively to the bed and I laid out his long frame on it, his arms up over his head, his armpits gloriously endowed with a thick bush of pale axillae hair. He lay there expectantly awaiting my pleasure.
Dmitri was not now an object of desire. He was an object of my pleasure. He was within my reach but lay there within my arms and at fingertip touch, and touch him I did.
I straddled the supine figure and let my fingers massage the scalp of his head, his short hair no obstacle to my touch. My fingers came down over his finely boned Slavic features and when the tips of my fingers touched his eyelids, I could feel his body tremble beneath me. Each part of his torso produced further trembles, not of fear I hoped, but of sexual delight. I did believe it was sexual delight, as I could feel his cock take on a hardened life of its own underneath me.
When I bent forward to take the nearest of his nipples into my mouth, he groaned and said `Master.' His back was half-arching, his eyes closed.
`Ah, my long Russian slave, you will have to be taught to keep those eyes of yours open when you are with me, your Master', I thought to myself. A slave should always know what reactions his Master's face is registering, even if half hidden from view.
Out of his loneliness and isolation, out of his normal environment and space, Dmitri was sinking into the depth of pleasure, which comes when so much lost is being regained in another fashion. His fear was lessening as he had brought forward his hands and was half-resting them on my shoulders, half-stroking my scapulae, giving little groans and shudders as his nipples became sensitized to my tongue and incisors.
I then moved to his armpits and found his axillae to be soft regions of tender flesh, a little ticklish to my tongue, as it laved its way around the fair bush of his pit hair.
Dmitri had awakened from his daydreaming stupor and his torso was coming forward off the bed, as the gentleness of my tongue created areas of awareness in his sensitivity.
My tongue moved to the hollow in his neck. His groans vibrated from his throat and he gasped his convulsion and pleasure. His sexual pleasure was rising too fast. He was not experienced enough to control it, so I changed tack and wandered down to his sternum, down to his belly-button, which was not sensitive, and was almost thrown from the bed, when my tongue wandered low across his belly and touched his hip bone. Eureka! Pay dirt! A pair of truly erogenous zones on this new Russian slave!
Knowing that it was not possible to make the slave come by merely working the two matching erogenous zones of his hip bones and carefully avoiding any touching of his penis or balls, I let his body feel the waves of pleasure that a Master and lover can release in a slave.
It is always better not to concentrate too long on any one erogenous zone, so I did not and I flipped Dmitri over onto his stomach, raising up his prone hips and separating his knees as far as they would go on the bed quilt.
Dmitri's legs and thighs were smooth as silk - all trace of hair had been taken by the body cream we use - as indeed from between his legs and his balls. A hint of pubic hair was to be seen to either side of his balls hanging deeply between his legs stretched wide apart.
The quarry of my search, his most private of orifices, was bare to my gaze. His puckering anus was like a small ridged volcano rising from the perineum under his body and between his legs. Small pink striations ran down from a central cone to the light golden skin of his body.
His anus had been mine previously in a quick fuck, but now it was mine for my leisurely pleasure and enjoyment, and enjoy it I did. Perfectly clean, and lightly moist with a preparatory cream, I let my tongue work its way inward from Dmitri's right buttock. As I circled my anal prey, he groaned and pushed back towards my probing tongue.
It is possible to bring a lover off by simple rimming. It's very possible to do so, when either the balls or the cock are touched at the same time. I made a point of avoiding this, as I could see Dmitri leaking a long strand of precum.
When my tongue pressed into the tiny cone of his anal volcano, he whimpered and I found myself chasing my quarry up the bed, until with his head jammed against the headrest and his hands clutching the pillows, Dmitri had nowhere else to go and his hips began to tremble, and his body to shudder, under the onslaught of my penetrating tongue.
It takes time to bring a lover off like this. I took my time, a long time. At one point, Dmitri's hand had found mine and clutched it, as if a supporting vine overhanging an abyss.
As I say he was not experienced, but undoubtedly one day he would learn the true techniques to hold on, to elevate the mind to another plane and place, to ignore the build up of sexual tension. But now he was not experienced and his hand clutched mine, so tightly that it hurt. He did not realise this. It was merely an automatic reaction to the stimuli, which his body was receiving.
There came a point where he could hold on no longer and I knew he was drawing close to it, so kneeling in close to his butt hole, I positioned myself and my cock, and thrust forward hard. His heightened state of euphoria would have suppressed any discomfiture for a quick and hard entry, but three pumping thrusts and my Russian slave was over the edge of all edges and like every man before in climatic ejaculation floated out into that space where pleasure and euphoria meet.
Three, four and five ejaculations later, Dmitri lay collapsed over his own juices and I on top of him. I thrust in hard again three times and I joined the slave in the joyful pleasure of the moment.
Time takes on a strange passage after sex. It is neither fast nor slow, but la petite mort - the little sleep of death - as one nation calls the aftermath of sex. We lay collapsed together in the afterglow of the sexual experience, I not wishing to move, Dmitri under me not able to move. And thus, I fell asleep.
I was still intertwined in the middle of the night, when there was a thunderous knocking on the bedroom suite door and Yuriy Obov, the Farm Manager of the Aloe Palace rushed in.
He shouted something to the Russian slave, who scurried off the bed and out of the suite, as Yuriy came up to me.
When I have mused in latter times and reflected on that moment, I have come to realise that it, like my arrival in Dahra some four years previously, was a defining moment in my life and in that of my slaves.
Yuriy's eyes were wide with the excitement of the moment. He was breathing through his nostrils, which were flaring as he sucked in air. Such things we see and remember in those frozen seconds.
We assume that so many things will continue uninterrupted. We know they cannot. His indelible words and the cause of such future events and changes at my Palaces cut the night time air.
`Master, Dahra has been invaded!'
End of Chapter 22
End of Novel
Author's notes:
I would like to thank especially Alan, Ken, Larry, Senui, Tedand Tim who have pre-read and judged parts of this novel "above and beyond the call of duty". Their proofing, corrections, comments and editing have contributed to making the novel readable.
The flow of the novel has been greatly assisted by comments from Adam, Bill, Bob, Budd, Chris, Dick, Ed, James, John,Ken, Lee, Lila, Marc, Marek, Norm, Omar, Pete, Ralph, Steve and Victor, to mention but twenty readers among the many who have eMailed me over the past weeks.
Readers have been generous and kind in their comments, and for that I say a sincere `thank you' to one and all.
Trustfully, the following novel just completed, but still to be proofed and edited,The Seventh Desert, when it issues will be a small token of my appreciation.
GT.