Dahran

The Time Line by Gerry Taylor This is the sixteenth chapter [ex twenty two] of a novel about gay sex and present-day slavery. Keywords: authority, control, gay, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, sex, submission 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. ============= 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/ ===========

Chapter 16--Realism

The very worst that can happen in life is that we think too much and act too little. The greatest stupidity on the other hand is that we act too much while thinking too little. These and other thoughts occupied my mind in the days before the arrival of my son, Richard, in Dahra in September. He had telephoned me at the Bank to say that he had been offered a three-year contract on long-term planning at the Central Bank of Dahra. He was over the moon with excitement.

`Dad, the salary they have offered me is over twice what I am earning. I'm going to have to work even harder there to really earn it. I'm going to have to get an apartment. They said they would assist with relocation expenses and finding me temporary accommodation.'

He was running his excited statements one into the next.

`Don't worry about a place to stay, I have found a place for you,' I said.

`But I didn't even know I had the job until this morning.'

`I just took the precaution of looking out for a place for you.'

`As long as it's got a bed, it'll be okay.'

I thought to myself that the Wisteria Palace, with its staff of Scottish slaves had more than just a bed, and really to do it justice, could not be just called `a place to stay'.

I thought that it would be best to ease him into the Dahran way of things and that would be with the help of Jack and Fiona and David. At least, he would be able to live if only for a few months with persons nearer to his own age who could initiate him into the life-style of Dahra.

I had thought of lodging Richard for a while at the Lemon Palace with me, but decided against it after mature reflection. I wanted to educate him, but not suffocate him. I wanted...I wanted so many things for him, but most of all to protect him the dangers of an unknown way of life while allowing him to have the necessary experiences he had to have as he grew up in this new environment.

To tell the truth, I don't know who was the more excited about Richard's arrival, myself or him. I had Faisal, my driver, stop off at the Wisteria Palace on the drive up to the airport so that I could see how it was.

I need not have worried. Jack and Fiona had intimated they would be taking little furniture and would also be leaving the Lincoln, which was being valeted by a red haired naked slave as I arrived. Andy McTee, the Head of Household, came out to see me wearing khaki shorts.

Sir Jonathan, we were not expecting you until some time later. You are very welcome, sir.'

`I am just stopping by early to see if the Mistress needed anything.'

`No, sir. We are just waiting the new Master. Master Jack and Mistress Fiona said you would let us know who Mr. Richard Black is.'

`They didn't say more than that?'

`No, sir. They did not.'

`Richard Martin Black is my son. He is English and has come to work at the Central Bank of Dahra. He knows nothing, really nothing about this sort of life. Where is the Mistress now?'

I looked at Andy who was in turn looking studiously somewhere in the direction of my left shoulder.

`I see, sir. The Mistress is down the garden at the back. Let me bring you to her. I understand that your son knows nothing about our status here at the Wisteria Palace or Dahra's best kept secret.'

`He knows that I own some farms that is all. Of the Wisteria Palace, nothing. I said I had got him a place to stay, but your ownership transfer papers and those of all the Scottish and the other slaves are to be transferred by Mistress Fiona and Master Jack. No new owner's name has been put in yet.'

With respect, Sir Jonathan, it would be an honour to be owned by either you or your son. Should we call him Master Richard', sir?'

As he said that, we found Fiona cutting some fresh flowers in the garden.

`Jonathan, what a nice surprise.'

`Just a courtesy visit, Fiona. I am on my way to the Bank before Richard arrives.'

`Would you like to speak to the household?'

`I suppose so. Briefly. Call the slaves, will you, Andy, and I shall speak to them? I have spoken with Richard very vaguely about the Palace and the slaves here. I am not sure that he had grasped all the implications.'

The assembled Scottish slaves fifteen in all plus the two cooks Narciso and Harb, and the two childminders, Beno and Vedel, absorbed the details of the arrival of the new Master like water into the desert sands. Not a single drop of precious information was missed as their future was hanging on every word I spoke.

Thor will be returning to the Lemon Palace,' I said. There are nineteen of you here. That number may be too much for the new Master's household and his needs, and you only have very little land here in the nine or ten acres of the Wisteria.'

I could see a collective tremor run through the slave body. The mere possibility of the break-up of any slave household is always a cause for concern in Dahra and the unpredictable future that might lie with a new Master or Mistress.

Thank you, Master, for coming here today and speaking with us,' Andy, the Head of Household said. We are looking forward to seeing the new Master, now that we know Master Richard is your son. It will be an honour to serve him as we have served Master Jack and Mistress Fiona.'

Jonathan,' Fiona said to me, just as a matter of information, the lands of the Wisteria Palace are now just under forty acres,' she said pointing to the back wall of the gardens. `We purchased some thirty acres of back lands last year, which we are reclaiming.'

Now that was news! Neither Jack nor Fiona had mentioned the purchase to me.

`That will justify the number of slaves here after all , Fiona, after September.'

At arrivals at the airport, I could not hide my excitement at the idea of Richard about to come more fully into my life. When he came through the gates, I smiled even more on seeing him in cream coloured slacks and jacket and a type of Panama hat. He looked more like a young ex-pat resident of a Caribbean island than a first time visitor of a Gulf state.

We must have looked more than odd in the middle of the airport locked in a bear-hug of an embrace which went on and on for over a minute, as I whispered, `welcome, Richard,' in his ear time and time again.

`Dad, people are beginning to stare,' Richard finally whispered back, and I reluctantly broke off the embrace.

Faisal had grabbed two bags which Richard had indicated on a carousel, and, before we knew it, the Rolls was heading out of the airport.

`I mentioned, Richard, I have taken the liberty of getting you a place to stay.'

`Yes, Dad, an apartment. So you mentioned.'

`No, you mentioned an apartment and I did not correct you. No, this is a place of your own. I have bought it for you as a welcoming gift. I hope you like it. It was owned by your cousin Jack who works with me at the Bank and is being transferred to Rio de Janeiro. It's about ten minutes from where you'll be working.'

`There was no need to buy it. I could have got a loan and bought some place, and if it's ten minutes from work, I'll have no trouble walking there.'

`Richard, you don't understand. This is Dahra. No one walks here in the heat. And when I said ten minutes, I meant by car. The Wisteria Palace is about...'

The what?' Richard interrupted. Did you say a Palace?'

`Yes, here in Dahra, certain small villas are called Palaces. It's on about ten acres of gardens and about thirty of farmland. Jack and Fiona are also leaving behind a Lincoln Continental. So you won't be stuck for a car.'

`Dad, I don't know what to say. I can't pay you for this.'

`This is not about payment. These are a just a couple of things to simplify life for you. Also, there is one other thing. I told you that I did own some slaves. Well, hold on to your seat, there are nineteen slaves at the new property to look after you and it.'

`You are joking. This is a little joke and you have a candid camera hidden somewhere here,' he said looking at the mahogany panelling in the Rolls.

`No jokes, Richard. Not about slaves, particularly not about Dahra. Fifteen of the slaves are Scottish. Fiona had this thing about buying up the Scottish slaves in the Sheikdom. There are also two cooks in the kitchen a Lebanese and a Portuguese slave, and two Romanian gypsies who were acting as child minders.'

`You really have got to be joking. Romanian gypsies?'

`They were gypsies before they were enslaved. Nice quiet harmless types. Nothing to worry yourself about. They can help you about the house. I took the liberty of taking a Swedish slave back to the Lemon Palace.'

`Thank heavens, one less to worry about.'

`Richard, slaves are not there to be worried about. Quite the contrary, they are there to worry about you. They do whatever you want. Let them run your household for you. One of them is a driver and a good driver Jack said. If you tell them to they will look after the house, the gardens and the farm lands. You have nothing to worry about.'

`I was about to say, Dad, how am I going to pay them all on my salary, but if they are slaves, they don't get paid. Am I right?'

`Yes. They are maintenance free. You only have to feed them and apart from slave biscuits, most of the Wisteria Palace's food comes from the gardens. In this heat, there are a minimum of two crops a year. They live in rooms at the Palace. This is one thing that you might want to look at. Slaves normally do not live in the same building here in Dahra as their Masters or Mistresses. You may want to build them a separate outhouse or something.'

`Dad, I think I have a lot to learn about Dahra and more than just its central banking and long-term investment policy, I'd say.'

`We're almost there, Richard. While I have bought a place for you to live, I have not yet had these slaves transferred into your name in case you may object for any reason.'

Richard was looking at me, and finally said, `Dad, what would you suggest?'

I breathed a sigh of relief at the wisdom of the question.

`Richard, let me put them in your name. If after a year, you want me to transfer them to my name or whatever, I will do that. For the moment, accept them as servants whom you own, and in owning them, as servants for whom you have a responsibility of care. That level of care is up to you.'

He extended his hand, `Let us shake on that', and shake we did. Richard can be formal in an English way in such matters and shaking hands on an issue was the giving of a word, the assertion of a contracting bond.

As we approached the gates of the Wisteria Palace, I said to Richard, `The slaves will be ready for your inspection, and as such they will be naked.'

`They're all men, aren't they, Dad, you said?'

Yes, all men. They will address you as Master Richard' and if I may suggest a simple inspection procedure. Do not shake hands. I know it may be a bit hard for you. Simply, put the back of your hand on the slave's chest and bring it down to the slave's groin and back up again. If you say something like, well done,' well presented,' it will go down very well and give the impression that you are accustomed to dealing with slaves.'

`You mean to touch their bodies with my hand and bring it from neck to their private parts and back up again? Good heavens, Dad, this is extraordinary!'

`What is extraordinary outside the borders of Dahra is accepted practice here. Remember a Master can do no wrong on his own estates here in Dahra.'

The Rolls by this time was pulling up at the portico of the Wisteria Palace. Fiona came out to greet us, followed by Jack who commented, `I just had to take some hours off to meet my new cousin,' to whom he proceeded to give a bear hug.

The slaves of the household were lined up for inspection at the arrival of the new Master, much as in the fashion of servants in eighteenth century England upon the arrival of a new heir or owner.

One of them in khaki pants stepped forward and opened the door of the Rolls. It was Angus Robert, the Head of Stables.

`Welcome to the Wisteria Palace, Sir Jonathan. I was down on the farm this morning and missed you.'

Richard stepped out of the Rolls and I saw him swallow at the sight of the semi-circular line of naked slaves.

Come,' I said to him quietly. They are more curious about you than anything else. Remember what I said about inspecting them.'

It was early afternoon and the sun as usual was quite hot. I smiled to myself as one of the slaves, it was either Beno or Vedel, stepped forward, with a large white beach umbrella and put it over the head of Richard, and partly over mine.

I saw Richard give a start but quickly regain his composure and turning to look at the slave, with his hand beckoned him a little closer.

`What is your name?'

`Vedel, Master,' and as he said that Richard put out his hand over Vedel's heart and let its back run down the slave's body until it got to the pubes and then brought it up again.

`Well presented, I'd say, Jonathan. Wouldn't you?'

`Yes, indeed, Richard. Well presented.'

Vedel's chest seemed to expand to the point of explosion as he swelled with pride at the two words of praise of his new Master.

`Now, let me inspect my household. I'll do this on my own, if you don't mind, Jonathan.'

I stepped back into the shade of the portico beside Andy McTee and Angus Roberts, as Richard started at the end of the semi-circle. I heard him ask the first slave his name and then inspect the slave who had the presence of mind to take the fingers of Richard's hand when the body inspection was finished and bringing it to his lips kissed the backs of Richard's fingers with a `Thank you, Master Richard'.

It set the tone for the rest of the inspection, until in the shade of the umbrella held by Vedel, Richard got back to the portico. The last two slaves there were the two overseers beside me.

`Why are you wearing shorts when the others are not,' he asked Angus Roberts in a voice which conveyed more curiosity than challenge.

`My name is Angus, Master Richard, and I am...I mean I have been Master Jack's and Mistress Fiona's Head of Stables. I took care of everything in the gardens and on the farm.'

`I see,' Richard said as he put the back of his fingers just under Angus's throat as he then with his hand inspected the figure of his slave from throat to navel. On getting to the pants, he let his hand rest there but did not drop it further.

`What did you call yourself?'

`Head of Stables, Master.'

`And will you serve me as Head of Stables.'

`Yes, indeed, Master Richard.'

`And you are?' Richard said to Andy McTee.

Andy was nervous as I saw him lick his lips.

`Andy McTee, Master Richard, Mistress Fiona's and Master Jack's Head of Household.'

`And you are responsible for the presentation and line-up of the slaves here?' Richard said as he looked at and then with his hand explored the twenty-eight year old's lean body.

`Yes, Master.'

`Will you serve me as well as Head of Household?'

`Thank you, Master Richard. I will indeed.'

We proceeded inside the Wisteria Palace and took some refreshments which Fiona had had prepared. I waved away the slaves who wanted to be in attendance. I could see that Richard was still somewhat nervous.

`How was I?' he said nervously to me.

`Excellent. Remember in your household you can do no wrong.'

`Did you see, Dad, even when I touched the two Overseers? They didn't say a thing.'

`Richard, I have to get to the Bank. I'll leave you here with Jack and Fiona,' to whom I bid my quick adieus.

Richard walked me back to the Rolls, and I said to him, `You actually created a very good impression. You showed all the slaves that you are indeed their Master and you increased both Angus's and Andy's standing among the slaves by actually asking, not ordering them to be your Overseers. You also got two loyal slaves in them. They are grateful I can see for not being reduced in the ranks. They will serve you very well in order to keep their positions. And don't be afraid to ask them what you should do in any case where you want advice. Talking of advice, let Beno and Vedel be your body slaves as they are called here in Dahra. They will look after you privately in the bedroom and in the bathroom.'

`Dad, I am not gay; I don't think I am even bisexual. I haven't had a great amount of what some would call experience.'

So what, nobody's perfect as that film character Osgood said. Look, Richard, the two are gentle and loving creatures, and after having looked after Fiona's baby, they need a bigger baby to look after and you're it,' and I slapped him on the shoulder. Richard, I have to go now. Get settled in. By the way, I have opened an account for you at the Bank and put some money it. You'll find a chequebook and stuff, and the property documents on this place in a packet I left for you this morning with Fiona. I'll tidy up the paperwork on your new slaves. Welcome to Dahra.'

`Thanks, Dad....for everything.'

`One other thing, I'm going to have my Head of Household at the Aloe Palace which was my first real residence here in Dahra, come and visit you. He is a mine of information.'

I gave Richard another hug and left.

The one thought that came popping back up in my mind as I returned to the Lemon Palace that evening in the Rolls was that I hoped I was being a realist as far as Richard was concerned in a Dahran world.

It was in September that Nigel Broaders finally accepted his status as slave. There is an intangible something in those who never give their full loyalty, be that to a person or an organisation or even to a country. There is a holding back which may be as invisible as a single strand of a spider's web.

I had not seen Nigel for some weeks as I had assigned him to the Lime Palace gym with Tony Sert. It was when Aziz al-Aziz came to see me on some matter of supplies that I noticed Nigel walking some paces behind him with two files.

The supplies question was one that Aziz could well have decided on within his own authority, but it was a courtesy to me that he consulted me on it. We had been speaking in Arabic as it was after midday.

Aziz turned to Nigel and said `Did you understand that?'

`Yes, Overseer. I did.'

`Then do it.'

Yes, Overseer,' and with a look and a small bow in my direction, he added, Master' before he went off about the business in hand.

`How is he doing, Aziz?'

`He is as well trained as he can be after only ten months. I had him flogged two weeks ago for pretending to understand something which he had not. You heard how I asked him if he had understood what we were talking about. His Arabic is getting better, but it will take some time before he is totally fluent. He is very intelligent.'

`He took a long time to adjust to his slavedom.'

`Each slave, Jonathan, is different, but at the end of the day, each slave will make his compromise with fate and accept his slavedom.'

`You have heard, Aziz, that my son Richard has arrived and I am buying the Wisteria Palace for him and Fiona and Jack's Scottish slaves.'

`I should visit your son, Jonathan. A courtesy visit.'

`I was hoping you would say that, Aziz. You might also look at his household slaves. He has no experience at all of dealing with slaves.'

`If you mention to Richard that I shall call at some point. I might even bring a camel-cane or two, though my arm is now too old for doling out long punishments. I find a flick or two of a cane is now more than sufficient to put the fear of a djinn into some of the slaves. It is human nature and indeed slave nature to accept without embarrassment the punishment of immediate superiors, but they find greater humiliation in the disapproval of outsiders and high up superiors.'

`I shall mention your visit to Richard, when next we speak.'

A well-run household is a pleasure to live in. The thought occurred to me as I was caressing the back of Gianni Centini's neck. The slave was on his knees beside me as I was accepting cheque after cheque with its attached documentation for signing. Gianni is the conduit between the various sections of the three Palaces which order supplies and twice a week he waylays me when sitting at my desk in the study.

His nervousness has now been replaced with a quiet confidence. He knows what is expected of him by me and he does it to perfection. Now four years my slave, he is a model of efficiency--very anal retentive in his search for perfection in detail--and very quiet even when I spread him over the desk on his belly and take him from behind as I sometimes do simply to remind him of my droit de seigneur. He is always polite and as Ben's assistant and lover, I can see that the two of them complement each other.

`This is the last cheque to be signed for this week, Master,' he said as he handed one last file. It was for the purchase of some kitchen items. We have running accounts in several of the major shops in the capital city, and there was nothing unusual about it until Gianni made his comment.

`Master, may I speak?'

I looked at him under my eyebrows as I signed the final cheque. Inside the Palace with day to day contact with the slaves, it is not as hard and fast a rule that slaves be quiet all the time, as it would be for talking to me outside the Palace itself.

`What's on your mind, Gianni? Ben not treating you well in bed?'

Gianni looked shocked at the idea, but said `Of course not, Master. Ben and I love each other. No, Master, it's about the last account payment you just signed. The store offered me a bribe.'

I looked at this quiet slave on his knees beside me. The study itself seems quiet in expectation and the only sound I could hear was some music coming up from the grand salon where Kent was practising on the piano.

`Come, Gianni, walk with me,' and I headed down towards the origin of the music which I identified in my head as one of the Mozart concertos.

When we got to the salon, Kent stopped playing and made as if to get up, I waved him back to his practice and sat at one end of sofa away from the piano. I pointed to a low stool and told Gianni to bring it over beside me, and indicated to him to sit on it.

`So, tell me about this bribe.'

`I didn't take it, Master. It was offered.'

`Just start at the beginning and tell me, Gianni. I assumed that you had not taken any bribe,' I said as I reached out and stroked the soft neck and shoulder skin of this beautiful Italian slave.

`Master, the bills come across each day when the post is sorted. But this last bill was delivered by a person from the store and he knew my name. He is some sort of salesman for the store and he clearly suggested that he wanted to ensure that the store gets more business from us.'

I hoped my stroking of Gianni's neck was helping him relax. I was not really surprised at his story. Surprised yes, that someone outside the Palace might know his name, but not that a baksheesh was being offered which is part and parcel of Gulf culture.

`I told him, Master, that I did not order anything here in the Palaces. Well, that is not really true, as I tell Ben what I need for stationery and office equipment and he always orders it for me. So really, I am ordering that. But other things never. It is Overseer Stan or Jens or Flavio who need things.'

`And what was the bribe being offered?'

`A pair of sandals, Master, and a box of chocolates.'

`Has this happened before?'

`Not to me, Master. It upset me. I have not even told Ben.'

`Upset you, why?'

`Because this total stranger thought that I would betray my Master for a box of chocolates.'

`You're forgetting the sandals.'

`Master, I did nothing to suggest to the man that I wanted a bribe. Nothing, Master, you must believe me.'

I could see that Gianni was getting really upset that I might actually not believe his story. I put my hand under his chin and raised his downcast eyes to mine. They were brimming with tears and I kissed him on the forehead and then slowly and with tenderness on his lips.

`I believe you, Gianni. How could I not believe a favourite and trusted slave? Do not let it upset you.'

`Oh, thank you, Master. I was so worried,' and he grasped me around the back of my legs, resting his head on my knees.

`Do you know if a lot of bribes are offered to the slaves here in the Palaces?'

`I don't know, Master.'

`Have Jake go and summon the Heads of Household and Stables here for an hour's time. Also Stan, Jens and Flavio, and see if Aziz is free.'

Jake Peoples is the Lemon Palace messenger.

`Yes, Master, and thank you again for believing me.'

The meeting with the heads of function was quite an eye-opener when I raised the topic.

`Jonathan, it is part of the culture. It is part of doing business in the Sheikdom to expect a back-hander, a baksheesh, when work is done or to give a bribe to get a contract,' Aziz commented from the other end of the sofa where he had positioned himself.

Boss, I get an offer of something or other at least twice a month. I don't even bother telling you about it,' Flavio commented. There must be a dozen vases, a dozen pots in the kitchens which just arrive with the compliments of department stores. They all want business and think they are going to get it from you, if they bribe your slaves this way.'

`And do they, Flavio?'

`No, Boss, of course not. I'm still waiting for a full set of double bottomed pots in stainless steel before giving the Palace's business to anyone.'

Aziz looked momentarily shocked until everyone burst out laughing.

Jens who looked uncomfortable at being in the salon at all, raised his left hand and said, `Master, I am sent loads of free software and even a plasma monitor last month.'

`And you never place an order with such a firm?'

`Oh, yes, Master. The usual order, but never anything extra.'

`Gianni is also right in what he told you about the suppliers knowing our names. They do.'

There are no long-term secrets in Dahra, Jonathan,' Aziz commented, only the major national unspoken secret.'

There are some nights when I do not sleep for long. It is not a question of not sleeping well, but I seem to be able to do with less and less sleep. It was after the bribe incident that I woke up early one morning and having relieved a full bladder, I just happened to look out one of the windows into the courtyard and a light in one of the outbuildings--the one which housed the sand-buggies and the Rolls.

More out of curiosity than concern, I put on a towelling robe, slipped on a pair of slippers and with a glance at the two bed companions of the ending night, Dmitri of the combed pubes who was as energetic as ever and Matt Peoples whom I had been bedding more and more of late, both still totally and soundly asleep, I directed my steps towards the mystery light outside. The digital clock beside the bed indicated that it would be a further forty five minutes before dawn and the rising of the Palace slaves for another day's work.

There are no real locks on the doors of the Palaces. Who would dare steal from the Master, and who would dare walk in unannounced among the slaves, or without knocking among my friends and freemen?

The late night early morning was mild and warm with the slightest of breezes bringing that the desert air to my nostrils with its scents of the sparse fauna of the surrounding lands. I walked silently across the courtyard--my only companions the crystal clear constellations of the heavens in their celestial splendour. The dry desert air gives such clarity.

Yes indeed, the light was coming from the outbuilding used for the motorised vehicles and the sliding outer door was slightly ajar, not having been fully closed by whomever was inside.

The four doors of the Rolls were open and there was the very low sound of a person breathing as they were doing something on the far side of the car. I walked round the back of the Rolls and almost walked on a slave sitting on his haunches with a cloth in his hand polishing the hubcap of the back wheel. The slave's head started to rise as his eyes taking in my slippered feet rose and rose until a shocked countenance was looking into mine. It was the new Turkish slave, Nesim, whose virginity I had taken at his own request.

As we both stood there immobile in the half-second of surprise, a head came round the open front door of the car and Jess Tollman started to say, `Come on, Nesim, let's start on the....'

`Good morning, Jess. Or should I still say good night? What do you think you are doing at this hour?'

Nesim threw himself at my feet and prostrated himself hearing my tone of voice to Jess. Jess for his part was just as quick at making an obéisance.

`Up you two,' I said giving Nesim a nudge with my foot as his English is still very poor.

`Boss, we were giving the Rolls an airing and a final polish for the day. I do it every evening after it is used, but a quick polish in the early morning brings up a great sparkle.'

`And Nesim, you have him out of bed at this hour to polish for you?'

Jess Tollman with his sex drive goes through a number of buddies every few months and recently he had paired up with Nesim.

`Neither of us sleep a lot with this weather, Boss, and Nesim loves the car. He really does, Boss. I am not forcing him to come with me.'

Jess's early morning boner was rising.

`You haven't come off yet this morning?'

`No, Boss, we go back to bed before everyone else starts moving for the morning sex.'

There was a large pile of burlap sacks to one side of the garage and I pointed towards it.

`Nesim, get over there and lie on your back.'

Jess was over quick as a flash and taking Nesim by the hand, he brought him over to the sacks, saying `He doesn't understand everything said to him, Boss. He is still learning to speak English.'

The compact Turkish slave with his compact wrestler type body lay back on the burlap, his manhood now standing erect and perpendicular to his body. Nesim is a beautiful slave. His colouring is a light all-over tan, and now that he has had some time in the Dahran sun, there is not a trace of a lighter coloured skin on his body.

Jess Tollman also is no slouch in the fitness department having a superbly fit body which he exercises hard every day in both the gym and in the pool.

`Let me see how you sixty-nine this car polishing buddy of yours, Jess.'

Yes, Boss, right away,' Jess said with a big grin. Nesim just loves that.'

`Are you lubed?'

`Yes, Boss, always.'

My evening driver positioned himself over the prone Nesim and taking the Turkish's slave trembling penis in his mouth started to suck. Within seconds, Nesim had taken Jess in his mouth and was raising his head, bobbing up and down off the sacking, as he mouthed with ease the sizeable length and thickness of the uncut penis thrusting deep into his gullet.

I found myself hard at the sight of the two studs in active sex, and coming up behind Jess, I said, `Spread your knees as wide as you can while I check all the good that your swimming and gym work is doing for keeping your anus tight for your Master.'

`Yes, Boss, I'm still tight for you after all these years,' he said as he moved his knees wider. His beautiful tight balls hung in their scrotum like two perfect plover's eggs in all their slightly crinkled pinkness.

I loosened my robe and positioning myself over Nesim's moving head and Jess's spread legs, I slid into the moist innards of my driver with one fluid movement.

`Oh, Boss, thank you. That feels...oh, Boss, that is what I need.'

I was gently moving in and out of the lubricated anus for some minutes when I felt a tingle of something touching my own balls. It was the lightest of touches and for a moment I thought that the belt of my robe had come in contact with my balls, but no, on every thrust in, there was the slightest of touching contacts. It was Nesim's tongue. The mere thought of that tongue touching my balls, the tongue of a slave who had held himself in reserve until I could take his virginity was sufficient to start the sexual awareness and bubbling to occur deep inside my balls, and I felt that I could hold back no longer and with one final thrust, impaled Jess Tollman on my twitching hardness. It was too much and I started to shoot inside my driver slave.

I heard Nesim groaning and his hips raised themselves up off the burlap sacking as he shot his load into Jess's mouth. Jess must have been on the edge because he shot immediately in between Nesim's sucking lips.

It was a delightful way to start the morning which was now breaking over the golden sands of the horizon as I came out of the garage. There is always something awe-inspiring about dusks and dawns in Dahra. I have tried to explain it, but simply put it down to the dry air. The salmon pinks of the day became cerise before my very eyes and slipped through a further number of shades even before the sun was a quarter up.

Jess and Nesim were standing beside me. I put an arm around each of them, and then I rubbed Nesim's short hair just behind his ear and he looked as if all his days had come together. If he did not fully understand English yet, he understood gestures and like a cat leaned his head back onto my stroking fingers.

`Don't take advantage of his enthusiasm, Jess, and thank you for thinking of airing the car when the air is still cool.'

I smiled to myself as Jess actually looked embarrassed at the praise and I realised that in his case, as indeed in that of some other senior slaves, I really did not acknowledge their performance and service enough. He stood straight and from his stance, I could see that he was pleased with my few words which for him were, I suppose, what drops of water are to the desert--appreciated and absorbed.

`Don't mention it, Boss. I always wake early anyway, and as your evening driver, I want to make sure that the Rolls is always in perfect condition for you.'

Don't ask where some slaves get the energy from, but over the seasons team games have come to the fore in the late afternoons, particularly ball games. What the slaves do after work and class I leave up to them in the hour or so that they have before dinner. All I insist upon is that they are well-showered. When Dr. Fournier first heard of the team games, he insisted that none be longer than twenty minutes in the heat which even in the late afternoon can be considerable and secondly that after each game each slave had to drink at least a litre of water.

It was therefore with some annoyance that I heard that a number of slaves had become dehydrated and had needed attention in the hospital. This was something that could be easily avoided and really became a concern when two slaves who did not usually play games also became sick from dehydration.

`As soon as we get a couple of litres of saline drip into them they are fine,' Dr. Coelho commented at dinner one evening.

`They just need water and salt then?' I asked.

The two doctors at the table with me that evening looked across at each other, and simultaneously said, `water AND salt'.

Dr. Fourier lifted his serviette to his lips, wiped them and said, `Will you excuse us, Jonathan. We may have more of a problem than we know of. May I speak with whomever finally pays the bills? Is that Gianni?'

Yes,' I commented. Do you want to fill me in?'

`When I am sure,' Yves Fournier said and with a nod departed with Miraldo Coelho in the direction of Gianni's office beside the study.

It was actually at that dinner where I was left abandoned by the clue-seeking doctors that I had a discreet word with Gus Jennings who was staying overnight. The Aloe sap business was thriving and very profitable. He had come down to have a word with Iñaki and Donnie, the production manager and his assistant, as to the possibility of increased volumes of sap due to increased sales.

I took the opportunity to bring him up to date on Al Vine and Ray Toepfer and as to the American Ambassador's continuing interest.

`Best that both keep a low profile and never leave the Palace grounds, Jonathan. Either or both could be very easily lifted outside these Palace walls and while they say that no slave has never escaped from Dahra, that may have been in the past with the slave on his own, but with modern technology and transport, you never know what could or could not be done.'

Gus was wise in the ways of the military and as I say, a word from the wise is usually enough information.

I subsequently learned from Dr. Fournier that a shipment of slave biscuits had been faulty and was missing a single ingredient essential for the climate in Dahra--salt. Not a single slave was lost in that incident, but it proved to me the value of having professionals to hand to solve problems. End of Chapter 16 =========== Contact: e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories If not on the YahooGroups mailing list, simply send a blank email to Erotic_gay_stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com The Dahran series -- a fictional adventure story about the life and times of Sir Jonathan Martin -- comprises the following novels to date: 1. The Changed Life 2. The Reluctant Retrainer 3. The Market Offer 4. The Special Memories 5. The Dahran Way 6. The Dahran Rebuttals 7. The Seventh Desert 8. The Dahran Sands 9. The Time Line These novels are all serialised on Nifty (Gay -- Authoritarian) and on YahooGroups http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories