Dahran

The Dahran Sands by Gerry Taylor

This is the fourteenth chapter [ex twenty two] of a novel about gay sex and present-day slavery.

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

This novel, The Dahran Sands, is the eighth novel in the Dahran series

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if it is unlawful for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage now.

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The Prison Doctor and The Changed Life [the first novel of this series] are now available as full novels in Adobe Acrobat format on http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/

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Chapter 14 -- The late arrival

Don't be too sweet lest you be eaten up; don't be too bitter lest you be spewed out.

(Jewish proverb)

That morning after my first viewing of the Dahran Opal as I was calling it, a transit van arrived from the opal mine and delivered a slave I had asked for and whom I promptly sent to be cleaned up and medically checked.

I had delayed my departure for the bank. Occasional spells of dizziness were still worrying me. Apart from the aches and bruises I carried, my entire body felt weighed down with leaden exhaustion. I had decided to take it easy for a few days, postponing a number of appointments and delegating the more urgent ones to competent members of the bank's staff, namely the junior partners Colin Bowman and Gustav Ahlson.

Meanwhile, I lingered in my study at the Lemon Palace, idly looking through an assortment of papers, unable to fix my attention anywhere for more than a few minutes.

`Ben, get me Dieter and find me Pal Fejes and tell them to come here.'

`Yes, Master.'

It was not for the slave who was standing in front of me for whom I needed an interpreter but for the one who was to arrive with Dieter.

I looked at Habib al-Habib as he took in all at a single glance as he came into the study. I beckoned him closer. I find the easiest way to keep slaves calm is to speak to them in a low voice.

`Have you eaten today?'

`Yes, Master, thank you,' he replied. The accent was North African.

I was looking at the report just over from the medical facility. He was in good health, but would need a complete dental overhaul. I let the back of my hand run up the inside of his thigh and cupped his heavy balls. They felt warm and full in the palm of my hand and the slave immediately began to erect.

`When did you last cum?'

`Not for some days, Master.'

`Why not?'

`My buddy at the opal mine was taken away. I have not been given a regular companion for the night yet.'

`What did you do before you came to Dahra?' I thought that was the best way to frame the question. I got the impression of quick intelligence.

`I worked in a factory making bricks, Master, and then came here to work in a similar factory.'

`And why this?' I said indicating the GPS bracelet on his right ankle.

`I stole a car, sir.'

I frowned and thought to myself hardly a case of enslavement for life. The slave must have sensed my puzzlement because he continued.

`I hit two of the police officers when they arrived and for that I was enslaved...not for the car theft.'

His words ran out and I told Ben to take him into the kitchens until called for.

Some minutes later, Dieter arrived with Pal Fejes in tow who immediately dropped to his knees in obeisance.

I want to show you something' I said when he was back on his feet and at display'.

`Translate, Dieter,' I instructed.

I pulled one of the boxes of opals from a drawer in my desk and took out a tray of the smaller opals and showed them to the two slaves whose eyes were riveted on the gems.

`Do you recognise the rock you found, Pal?'

The slave looked shocked.

No, Master,' Dieter translated, but I would have understood the body language. They are beautiful.'

`I always reward a slave for work well done. What reward do you want?'

`Master?'

`What do you want?'

The slave hesitated just a fraction of a second before making up his mind and saying `Master, Master...that Habib and I can work at your Palace here. If that pleases you, Master.'

`That, Pal, pleases me very much. I appreciate loyalty in my slaves, even if it loyalty to one another.'

Pal dropped to his knees with a `Mein Herr' and made a full obeisance again.

`Dieter, tell the slave in the kitchens to come out.'

Some seconds later Habib al-Habib stood before me.

`Habib, your friend here has asked for a reward for finding the opal rock. You were with him. What reward do you want?'

`Master, I want no reward; just whatever the Master wishes to give me. I am the Master's slave. I can ask for nothing.'

`And if you could ask for something, what would it be?'

The slave looked down at the GPS, and I shook my head. Some things are not even in the power of a Master to grant. He looked across at Pal Fejes and in the glance, there was more than friendship.

`That where Pal goes, I go, Master. If that is what the Master wishes.'

`Dieter, I know Pal here was going to work in the vegetable gardens, but get him and Habib down to Inaki and Donnie at the Aloe factory. Both of them worked in factories before. See that they get a job there and see that Habib gets back to the dentist whatever day he is due there.'

`Yes, Master,' and Dieter clicked his fingers, beckoning the two slaves to follow him. I noticed his confidence.

Looking at Ben beside me, I said `make sure to update their files. Did you see the size of Habib's erection when he was talking about Pal?'

`Yes, Master.'

`And?'

`Not my type, Master. I am a one-guy guy.'

`But obviously Pal is Habib's type.'

`Yes, Master. It takes all sorts to make to make the world go round. I'll update their files.'

After lunch I finally pulled myself together and had Faisal drive me to the city. My plaster and bruised cheek elicited sympathetic comments from the receptionist and passing staff, and my curt explanation that I had slipped and fallen in the sauna caused further polite commiseration.

Retreating into my office, I decided to stick to an easy routine. I had been caught up at the Bank for some days in a bond placement. Our branch had got the `name' for the major placing of funds and it was a case of all hands on deck. It meant that I had to put off a particular pleasure for two days.

I had merely spent three hours at my desk when I decided to call it a day, realising that my attention was still wandering. I was not able to focus properly on what I was doing. Also, quite simply, merely sitting in my comfortable office chair for those three hours turned out to be painful.

Faisal was on standby. Maybe he had delegated his messenger duties to another driver. Gingerly I settled into the back of the Rolls and we departed for the coast road.

The slave for whom I had journeyed down that afternoon to al-Mera to see was bought in. Jake Peoples was ushered in and he took my breath away. Nature had taken some of the best of all his brothers and bestowed it all on him. He was blond, yet he was fair and yet again, there was a touch of red in his hair. Not just the hair on his head but on his pubes and down the fine down hair of his forearms and thighs, and trickle of lower stomach hair hinting at future treasure trail. His skin was a golden summer tan. It spoke of warmth and sun.

He was gangly like young Luke, yet poised like Elliot. His skin shone out from under its tan exuding good health and his face was slightly angular, but at the same time slightly oval, and his eyes were grey, yet they were green depending on the ray of light.

Some men's faces have coarse features, but his were fine. A clearly defined nose, and narrow nostrils, crowned exactly sculptured lips between which the hint of pearly white teeth were to be seen, perfectly capped teeth and suitable to be seen in the presence of princes.

His cheeks showed the down of youth, though on closer inspection, I was to find out that he was of a shaving age. His facial growth however was so light as to be almost invisible.

His was the body of an eighteen year old who exercised, but not overly so, and one who was fed but carefully so.

I found myself breathing again as the young slave was led to the dais and stepped up on it. He bore no chain or ring or ornamentation. His only apparel if such it could be called was the new shiny GPS bracelet, but he wore it as if it were a toga, invisible on his body and solely visible on his right ankle.

Jake Peoples had poise that no eighteen year old had. He had been instructed with teaching and he had absorbed that teaching. He stood as if he were inspecting me and not I inspecting him.

Slaves normally do not look at their Masters, but look into the middle distance. He was looking at me, patiently, kindly, waiting my command, for he knew his place and he recognised mine.

His physical teenage development had taken place, but his nipples had yet to develop as indeed his genital area. Boys of fourteen had better developed gonads than he, and yet he stood as if such were not important to his person or rather to his slavehood.

`My name is Jonathan Martin,' I finally said.

`I know, Sir Jonathan. My former Master showed me your picture and told me to serve you with the same devotion and faithfulness that I have served him for almost the past two years.'

He spoke in full sentences and his poise almost took my breath away again. For an untutored teenage mind, or so I had rashly assumed it to be, he was collected in his thoughts.

`Then, do you know where you are?'

`Yes, Sir Jonathan, I am in the Sheikdom of Dahra, I presume. Unless the land container brought me elsewhere. The jet was to deliver me to Dahra. I have not had the chance to ask if this is the House of Mustafa.'

`This your Master told you?'

`No, sir, my former Master's Head of Household.'

`What else have you been told?'

`Nothing as regards you or Dahra, sir; simply that I have to serve you well as I am told I served my Master.'

`And how did you serve your Master? What were your duties in his Palace?'

For the first time, I saw hesitation before the reply. As I say, I am a good reader of body language.

`I served my Master in the bedroom with three other attendant slaves.'

`All male slaves?'

`Two other male attendant slaves, sir, and one female attendant slave.'

I noticed that he had quietly corrected my vocabulary without placing any emphasis on the correction. He had perfected the art of diplomacy at a young age.

`Do you wish to say what those services to your former Master were?'

`No, Master, unless you ask me to tell you specifically. Just as I would not say what services of a personal nature I might specifically perform for you if you sold me at any future time and someone else asked me...'

`But I am not anyone, I am your new Master. What services did you specifically perform for your Master.'

The slave replied immediately.

`Each evening that the Master was in our section of the Palace, I would give him a colonic irrigation as I was trained to do. After the other attendants had given him his shower, I would dry my Master with his bath towel.'

I remained silent looking at the slave forcing him to continue speaking. I noticed his growing discomfort in what he had to say.

`I would then prepare the Master for penetrating the attendant slave of the evening.'

`Specifically.'

`I had to rim the Master as he knelt on the bed until he came to erection. One of the other male slave attendants would lie under him to lick his genitals, and between us we would ensure a firm erection.'

I noticed that the colour in the slaves' cheeks had risen considerably.

`So, your personal and bedroom duty consisted in little more than licking your Master's hole after you gave him a colonic irrigation?'

Jake Peoples swallowed hard, his pale and fair face now quite red.

`Yes, Master, and drying my Master, I mean my former Master' he said very quietly.

Now that is wealth and privilege, I thought, to have a slave whose duties were limited to towelling you off after a shower, giving you a colonic irrigation and a rimming! How many other slaves would such a Master have owned for running an entire Palace, of which, he was reputed to have ten?

`How many times did you fail to get your Master to erection?'

`Never, Master, not since I was trained to do so.'

`What other duties at your Master's Palace did you have?'

The slave seemed surprised at that question, as if there were more important things to do other than serve his former Master as he had said.

`Duties, Master. I had no other formal duties, Master. I had to keep myself ready to serve my Master at any time ensuring that I was properly bathed and exercised in the gym at all times.'

`You will never repeat to anyone what your previous duties were. Your former Master is a great man. Do you understand?'

`Yes, Master, thank you. He is a great man and he was a very gentle Master.'

`And why am I now your Master, do you think?'

`I do not know why you have bought me, Master. The reason is not important to me. I am only here to serve you.'

Ah! I thought to myself, the slave had not been apprised of everything. He thought he had been sold, or maybe the Head of Household had not been informed and had merely assumed a sale. I also noticed the distinct lack of accent in the slave's speech. It was mid-Atlantic if anything, definitely not West Virginian.

`How long were you trained for these duties with your former Master?'

`Three months, Master, practising on other slaves for five or six hours a day.'

Although the centre was doing this slave's bloods, I knew that such was merely over-caution on its part as indeed on my part following Dahra's import regulations. I could rest assured that any slave of His Highness' personal retinue would be in perfect health.

`You will be here a day or two more and then you will be brought to my Palace. Have you now any questions?'

`No, Master. A slave does not ask questions of his Master, and I have none to ask.'

Indeed, I should do well learn a thing or two about the training procedures of His Highness' household to ensure such well-behaved slaves.

I got up from my chair and rang the buzzer.

With all the efficiency of a postal service, the transit fleet of slave delivery vans is a well-known feature of traffic around Dahra for those who know how to recognise the blue vans with their simple double white stripes on the mudguards over the rear wheels. They are discreet to the point of invisibility, in plain sight for all to see, but unseen by all in their normality.

I have found over the years that they tend to deliver their precious cargos early morning when there is not much traffic on the road system, before the heat of the Dahran day sets in and when they are sure of getting people in at home to take delivery of the human merchandise. The deliveries are made with all the care of furniture removal personnel handing home furnishings worth tens of thousands of euro, where each delivery is firmly secured during transit and signed over with delivery.

So it was on that late December morning with me. I had young Luke Peoples kneeling to one side of me. I have found that he loves toast with butter on it and, though as a slave, his diet of slave biscuits is more than adequate, a small slice of buttered toast never hurt a slave's stomach to my knowledge.

On the other side of my chair was Terry Peoples, his brother, who likes his toast with marmalade on it. He had never tasted the orange-based jam until he came into my ownership and when I had time in the mornings, particularly on those mornings when I did not have to go to be on duty at the Bank, it pleased me no end just to look on his beauty as he awaited his next small morsel. When he thought I was not looking, his eyes would be on the jam as I applied it to the toast, and he would wet his lips with the point of his tongue, in anticipation.

As a slave, he would never dream of asking for it, but I could always sense the tension in his body as he looked on his favourite breakfast food being prepared.

`What do you want us to do today, Master?' Luke asked.

Both he and Terry have broad ranging duties in the Lemon Palace. When not required to attend to my needs, like many of my slaves who are not assigned specific duties, they must report first to my Head of Household at the Lemon Palace, Pete Downings, and then work their way down through the various Supervisors on the differing jobs requiring attention on that particular day.

I was just about to give them any job to do just then as I was waiting for a development, which occurred right then. There was the noise of a trio of vans coming into the courtyard.

`Ah, our latest arrivals, I see. Right on time!' I commented.

Pete Downings had heard the vans arrive and was out in front of me ready to take delivery.

Three new arrivals, Pete. Sign receipt for them, will you? And you two,' I said to the two brothers, come along with me and be quiet.'

The delivery people know by now that slaves being delivered to my Palaces are relieved to their wrist restraints as soon as they are taken out of the van. I find that slaves are generally more disoriented by the sunlight after the totally dark van, than by anything else, and would need to get their bearings before taking up arms against me or my Supervisors. Having been allowed several glimpses of harshness of the professional training procedures in one of the Dahran dealerships, the docility of newly delivered slaves certainly did not surprise me any more.

The first van driver handed the blue clipboard to Pete who began signing the receipt and went round the back of the van to open the double doors and get the slave out.

Mattie Peoples emerged with his hands cuffed before him. With the twist of an Allen key, he was free of the cuffs. He stood there blinking in the morning sunlight, looking at Pete Downings returning the clipboard to the van driver. He saw me and went on his knees to make an obeisance. I heard a gasp from behind me as Terry, I think it was, recognised his long lost brother from some distant West Virginian past. I ignored Mattie Peoples's obeisance and left him with his forehead on the ground.

The first van was drawing away and a second one drew up and took its place. Again, Pete signed for a slave and as he did so he looked at me and half-smiled.

Elliot Peoples emerged much as his brother had done two minutes before, and spotting the slave on the ground in a position of obeisance, once his hands were free, he did likewise.

Now the muffled sound behind me was from the other side as Luke recognised his brother Elliot on the ground in the nude beside the van.

As Jake Peoples was brought out of the third van, he certainly was the most poised of the three. He looked up at the sky and then around the courtyard before his eyes settled on me, sort of nodded by way of recognition and knelt of the ground beside the other two figures. I left them there for a further minute.

`Stand up.'

The three slaves got to their feet and in some seconds of realisation as they straightened up, they saw who was beside them on the courtyard ground.

`Welcome to the Lemon Palace, your new home,' I said to the three.

`Terry, Luke, say "hello" to your brothers,' I said to the two at my sides.

The two brothers, who had been behind me, shouted something and rushed the eight or ten paces over to their older brothers. Mattie, Elliot and Jake seemed to be rooted to the ground. I saw that Mattie was hyperventilating as he tried to get air into his lungs and through his new voice box. There were whoops of delight, shouts of recognition, hugs and embraces as each of the brothers re-created and restored their lost links of family life with his siblings.

Terry was the most excited as he ran back to me and quite literally shouted at me, `Master, Master, look! Mattie and Elliot and Jake are here. My brothers are here!' and he ran back to hug each one of them again.

It was however Luke, the youngest of the five brothers, who took Mattie the eldest by the hand and led him over to me.

`Master, this is Mattie, my eldest brother.'

He said it with a simplicity totally devoid of guile, totally devoid of any concept that I might have had a hand in getting Mattie there into my courtyard. He beckoned Elliot over to me and introduced him as my second eldest brother,' and finally Jake as our fourth brother. He's a year younger than Terry, Master, and two years older than me.'

It seemed a bit incongruous to have five naked slaves, the five Peoples brothers, around me being introduced, as if they were unknown to me. I let Luke have his moment of joy and of diplomacy.

I saw Terry wiping away a tear and it was he who made the statement that I was half-expecting to hear.

`Master, Benji is missing.'

`No, Terry. He is not. He is at home with your parents. He is okay for the moment.'

The brothers looked at each other. Not all knew the reason for their presence in my ownership.

`Your parents sold each of you for money. I expect Benji will be sold in the next year or so. If he comes on the market, I will be told. Now, Luke, Terry, bring your brothers over to the doctors so that they can be checked in.'

I thought it would be interesting to see how in the contained environment of my Palaces these five siblings would get on and I started to re-formulate the plan I had for them.

As the five brothers marched over to the doctors, with arms linking or resting over shoulders, Pete Downings was looking at me.

`Their parents sold each of them, Boss?'

`Yes, Pete. It's a strange old world, isn't it?'

My Head of Household regarded me for a moment.

Then he merely asked `Do you have any further orders for today, Boss?'

End of Chapter 14

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