The Time Line by Gerry Taylor This is the twentieth 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 20--Positivism
My son Richard's arrival in Dahra occurred with less upset than I had imagined. He was due to take up his new position in the first week of September but due to some executive not being back from holidays at the Central Bank of Dahra, this was delayed until the last week. That had suited Jack and Fiona fine as well, as it gave them also time to introduce him to Dahran life in a less hectic manner. I also made it a point to drop by the Wisteria Palace in the evening of every day that I was up at the bank.
There were small matters where I saved my son some money. I instructed that a bulk liquid container deliver five thousand gallons of water every morning to the Wisteria Palace. It cost me nothing but the diesel to have it delivered, as the three bulk containers were effectively idle now that they did not have to deliver daily water to the opal mine.
The purpose of the slaves at Richard's home was their unconditional service to him. Angus commented on Aziz's first visit and how he had put the fear of the scimitar of Dahra into the slaves, informing them of the honour they had in serving my son.
Towards the end of September I gave a farewell dinner at the Lemon Palace for Jack and Fiona as they got ready to depart for Rio via London. It was a happy evening and I thought that my son, Richard looked happiest among all my guests.
The Wisteria Palace itself is small and if the truth be told it is a bijou of a home. Fiona had left her mark on it. It was unusual in that the nineteen slaves lived in three of its bedrooms inside the house. Jack and Fiona had told Richard that and that he might prefer to have them in quarters outside his home.
When Angus mentioned the matter to me as we waited one evening for Richard to arrive back from shopping, he said very quietly, `Master Richard spoke to me about that, Sir Jonathan.'
`What did he say?'
`He asked my opinion,' and the slave let his words hang, because he knew that a Master ordered and did not ask opinions.
The young Master is just like that,' I replied. And what did you say?'
`I said, Sir Jonathan, whatever the Master wished would be done, but that sleeping under the same roof as the Master was a singular honour of a thoughtful Master^Å.'
I smiled at the flattery which had been showered on my son, and Angus continued saying, `^Åand the Master said that we should continue sleeping six to a room in the large bedrooms on the third floor and each of the two supervisors have their own smaller room on the third floor as well to share with their buddy. The young Master is most generous, Sir Jonathan.'
`I can see that, Angus. What does that leave? Three bedrooms for guests?'
`Yes, Master.'
`Who has the Master punished so far?'
A shocked Head of Household replied, and I could hear the apprehension in his voice, `Oh, no one, Master. Everyone is really trying to make the young Master feel at home and get him fully settled in.'
`And if you had to punish the worst performing of the slaves, which would you punish?'
I could see Angus was nervous and replied slowly, `Perhaps, Master, I would punish Fergal for getting up last each morning. But he works very hard after that.'
`Have Fergal be ready for punishment as soon as Master Richard arrives.'
`Yes, Sir Jonathan.'
As we were speaking, a Lincoln Continental swept into the drive of the Wisteria Palace and pulled up behind the Rolls. Craig, who had been Jack and Fiona's former driver, leapt out and opened the back passenger door for an amused Richard.
On seeing me, he ran up the steps of the veranda and gave me a hug.
`Dad, I am still not accustomed at being chauffeured around, and Craig insists that I sit in the car until he opens the door for me. This car is very, very stylish.'
I could see that he was bubbling with the enjoyment of so many new things in his life.
`I am delighted to see you here, Dad. Will you stay for tea?'
`No, Richard, I just dropped by for the pleasure of seeing you. Are you getting on okay?'
`Dad, everyone wants to help. Aziz al-Aziz came by the other day with bucketfuls of advice. Everyone here was in fear and awe of him. Do you know that he was once a slave and the Sheik gave him his freedom? And he was once a slave to the Sheik's aunt or some princess?'
`Yes, I had heard that. He has had quite an interesting life from the limited contacts he has had,' I commented.
We had gone into the main salon of the Wisteria Palace, when Angus arrived back with a slave in tow whom I recognised as Fergal.
`Yes, Angus, what is it?'
`Good evening, Master Richard. This slave has to be punished for being persistently late in getting up in the mornings.'
Richard looked at me.
`It's now your household, Richard. Don't look at me.'
`What is the punishment at your Palace for such a matter?'
`Four or five strokes of a camel-cane. It depends how often it happens.'
Richard walked over to the slave who was blushing furiously. The Dahran sun had tanned his fair skin but not such that it could hide a blush.
`Are you always up late or are you just the last to get up, Fergal?'
I saw that Richard knew the name of the slave.
`Both, Master Richard.'
`Why? Do you work that hard you need more sleep? Harder than any other here?'
`No, Master Richard.'
`Well, why then?'
The slave was clearly embarrassed, perhaps at the question, perhaps at me being present as well, perhaps at having to reply truthfully to such a young Master.
`My buddy and I don't get to sleep until very late each night. Sorry, Master,' and as he spoke his penis started to harden at the memory.
`Let me see if I understand this. Your buddy keeps you awake at night?'
`Yes, Master Richard...and I keep him awake as well. We are buddies, Master,' and the slave blushed furiously again.
`You mean to say that you spend a long time each night making love to each other and this leaves you too tired in the morning to get up.'
As he said this, Richard turned from the slave and faced me his face contorted in a smile which he was forcing not to turn into a laugh.
`Yes, Master Richard,' the slave, now at full erection, said to his back.
`Angus take this slave out the back and make him ready for punishment. Have all the slaves present. I shall be out in a second, and tell Narciso in the kitchen to come here.'
Angus motioned Fergal towards the kitchens and the back of the house.
`I'm glad, Richard, that you are able to handle the doling out of punishment. It makes for respect from a Master who cares for his household.'
`Aw, Dad, did you see the slave. He was getting a woodie just talking about his buddy. I'm not into voyeurism but I think I am going to take a look in on Fergal and his buddy some evening.'
`Your choice as Master,' I commented.
`I hear that a slave is supposed to kiss the camel-cane that beats him.'
`That is the Dahran custom.'
As we were speaking Narciso who is one of the slave chefs came out of the kitchen and Richard took him by the elbow and led him back to the kitchen giving him what I understood were dinner instructions, before coming back to me.
`Come out, Dad, you had better see my first punishment of one of my slaves.'
I was feeling quite proud of my son in being able to so quickly handle a first situation like this. We walked out the back double doors of the Palace and all the slaves were lined up and in front of them, Fergal, who was to be punished.
`You are being punished before the household because you are the last up each morning and consistently late. Do you understand?'
The slave nodded and almost whispered `Yes, Master' in his embarrassment before the other slaves.
`Turn round and face the others while you are punished, spread your feet wide apart, and grasp your ankles.'
The slave complied and then Richard turned towards the Palace and said `Narciso' who immediately came out with a large pot in his hands, followed by the three other indoor slaves, Harb, Beno and Vedel, each of whom were also carrying a pot.
I was quite intrigued at what was going on, until Richard took first pot from Narciso and poured it over the slave Fergal's head and shoulders. It was a pot of cold water and ice cubes!
The three other slaves came up and handed their pots to Richard who poured one over Fergal's back, another over his backside and the last which he merely tossed in the air and let the water and ice cubes crash down over the soused slave.
To give Fergal his due, he did not move except for the jerking of his body on being drenched in the water.
`Stand up straight, Fergal. Do you understand what I have done?'
The slave looked at his Master and said, `Yes, Master. You have punished me.'
`Yes and no. I have given you a wake up call. From now on, every time you are the last to get up in the morning, you will stand here before breakfast and four pots of water will be poured over you.'
And looking at the household slaves in their line-up, Richard said, `Do you also understand? The punishment will fit the offence at the Wisteria Palace. Do you understand?'
Several of the slaves were grinning, but all chorused, Yes, Master' or Yes, Master Richard,' and surprisingly all then came forward to kiss his hand, until the last to do so was the drenched Fergal who was to my mind confused at the leniency of his punishment and was awaiting some indication from his Master what he was to do.
`Have you learned something today, Fergal?'
`Yes, Master Richard.'
`And what is that?'
`Getting up is going to be much easier from now on.'
`Good. Off you go and we'll talk later.'
`Yes, Master Richard.'
Richard walked me around by the side of the Palace and back to the Rolls. I put my arm over his shoulders and said, a bit unorthodox, but I think you will do well in due course. But a word of advice, a camel-cane is not a fishing rod. Nice wrist work, but you'll have to develop a proper technique,' I said with a smile. Remember, Richard, respect comes many ways. For slaves, respect comes from a little fear, not from humour; to say nothing of use of a camel-cane. They may have originally been Scottish, but now they are slaves and there is nothing that you or I can do about it. You have to accept them as they are, not as you would or might like them to be.'
`Dad, to each his own,' Richard said as he embraced me and closed the door of the Rolls after me.
Indeed, it takes all sorts to make a world, and Richard, making his own errors for I could not make them for him, in time, would find his own feet as a Master in the slavedom of Dahra.
In one aspect, I am a positivist. I believe that the laws for running my Palaces derive from my authority and the decisions I have already made known to my overseers and slaves. The morality of my decisions resides simply in those matters which are customary to me and not in an objective morality of dealing with my slaves. My Overseers, and consequently my slaves, know some of the decisions I communicate to them. The Overseers apply them logically and the slaves obey them, and I, the Master, am happy.
A case in point is the hospital surgery. Randy Tait runs it under the oversight of the doctors. A young thirty year old former electrician runs a small hospital which any group of doctors in the developed world would give their eye teeth for. He chooses the slaves for Dr. Fournier who will update the good doctor's computer data, assist in daily cleaning of the surgery and a hundred and one things that make up the daily schedule for the entire medical team.
Randy, when he first went to work for Dr. Fournier originally specialised in a verruca laser removal technique, and then trained another slave on it, so as to leave himself free from more supervisory and managerial work. As the slaves go barefoot, such annoying contagious warts are like seasonal colds. A third slave was engaged part-time by Randy in tattoo removal; as I allow my slaves no tattoos, not even real or imitation marine Semper Fi ones remain. That slave has received more offers of sexual favours not to remove a tattoo than any other slave in my Palaces.
Most such displays of my authority are correct and it gives me pleasure to see the understanding of my commands expanded upon.
Therefore, it was with no annoyance that I saw that the two Russian barbers had now a trainee assistant slave who was far faster than either of the barbers in using the computer to line up the next slaves for the Palace's styles of haircut.
I noted from their files that neither of the two barbers, Lev and Rurik, had buddies other than each other. When I challenged them on this one day, they said they had each other and, with vigorous hand motions, they showed me that they jacked each other off every morning and every night. It pleased me to hear that their sexual tensions were relieved so regularly, as I believe that this is essential in an all-male environment where testosterone can be a major source of conflict.
A Master then has to trust his slaves and particularly his Supervisors and Overseers that they will do their assigned jobs. It is an unusual form of trust, and if the slave is given a job in which he can excel, then one day he has the hope of being the head of a kofila under one of the Heads of Stables, or having a Palace duty under the Heads of Household.
With the increased intake of slaves from the slave markets due to the expansion of the farmlands, Dr. Hal Thiecke, my original dentist was now working three days a week with Dr. Cal Thorson. They get on very well together, and as the dental surgery was really built for only one dentist, Hal brought his latest mobile surgery with him and merely parked at the end of the medical facility.
The new slaves coming into my ownership are generally shocked in a positive way at getting such dental care within the first days of coming to my Palaces, or at least, as soon as scheduling allows. They also receive the most modern eye care that Dr. Nacho Cuesta can provide. He has become quite a specialist in straightening casts in eyes, to say nothing of the repair of myopia with the latest ruby laser treatment.
It pleases me immensely to see healthy slaves in my service and with regular daily exercise apart from their normal workload, the new slave soon becomes fitter and the existing slaves become leaner, trimmer and more beautiful, all of which is aided by a very healthy diet based on slave biscuits and the vegetables the farms produce.
Sometimes, my slaves do excel, but this is normally at Overseer level. Stan Mercer, my head of property, springs to mind. His was the initial idea for the windmills on the Aloe and Lime Palace grounds. We started with four windmills, and ended up with twenty, all in a straight line between the grounds of the Palaces themselves and the Sheik's gift--the desert lands I had yet to cultivate.
When I queried Stan on his rationale--had we not got enough energy from the solar panels covering every roof?--he pointed out the logic of this renewable free source of power, which if in surplus, I could merely sell into the national grid. While the sixteen new windmills cost four million euro, less than the income from a month's water to my neighbours, after the first month, we saw that they would more than redeem their purchase in less than four years. And so, we ended up with a line of twenty elegant white three-bladed windmills which divided the original lands of the Palaces from the Sheik's gift which ran for seven miles along parallel to the Western Road and a mile deep into the uncultivated and parched desert.
The other Overseer who constantly pleased me was the ungainly Georgi Gridov who was the slave in charge of the al-Kadir workforce. He had a symbiotic relationship with my old teacher, Graham Hodson, who now is accustomed to going down to the al-Kadir property for about two hours in the early morning to see the progress of the previous day and who would be like a child at dinner time telling me how well the crops were doing already, and it was not even near the first official harvest time of the kiwifruits.
Georgi was so organised that he approached me one afternoon as I was out and about in the grounds of the Lemon Palace. There was this hulking great slave at his side, and it took me a moment to remember who this slave was. He was taller by at least fifteen inches taller than the short and gangly Georgi. It was the Romanian over whom Georgi had demurred for so long at the slave centre before buying him for me.
`Georgi, how is the al-Kadir project going?'
`Excellently well, Master. We are almost up to speed with the number of slaves we now have. Dieter has them well organised into kofilas each morning, and Master Graham gives me his instructions each day as to what he wants done. The project is progressing well.'
Dieter was his assistant and buddy, and I had to smile to myself as usual, as Georgi tried to pass on praise to others for his successes.
`I am sure that you have studied each kofila before Dieter organises them and I would say that you have each new acre laid out for Master Graham to approve.'
The flicker of a smile on the Romanian face showed that I had hit the nail on the head as to the actions of this self-effacing Overseer.
`And I see you have chosen another tall and powerful slave as your assistant?'
`Yes, Master. He carries things for me as Dieter can no longer be with me at all times,' and with his eyes on me at all times, without looking back at the slave, he merely put his hand out and the slave put a file in his extended hand. It was a supervisory symbiosis, if nothing else.
I looked at the bulk of the Romanian several inches taller than myself and saw powerful muscles and a chest with two pert brown nipples. I stroked the right nipple with my thumbnail and watched it rise and harden--the sign of good health and a healthy skin. The slave had most certainly been cleaned up since that day in the slave centre and had lost all his body hair, save for a dark bush of pubic hair, and a short crew-cut stubble on his head.
He serves you well?' I commented more in question than anything else as I walked round the slave, and stopped on seeing two long red weals on the slave's backside. You have punished him today?'
`Punishment no, Master. This slave needs a firm hand and needs to know daily who his Overseer is. Each day I give him two strokes of a camel-cane to remind him. I have told him that if he wishes not to receive his two strokes then all he has to say is that he no longer wishes to be my assistant.'
`You have been giving this slave two strokes of a camel-cane each day for the past ten months?'
`Yes, Master. He likes it. He gets a hardon as some slaves do when they are punished and I then lead him round by his hardon to let the kofilas know who is the Master's Overseer and who is the Master's slave. He stays hard for a long time. But so far, he has never asked to be replaced.'
`Well done, Georgi, I like an obedient slave. Have you found a buddy for him?'
`He serves both Dieter and me every evening, Master. You know how Dieter likes to be licked on his back passage, and it took a number of camel-cane strokes to have this slave learn how to do it properly. While he is licking Dieter, I fuck him and he has learned to like taking it from me.'
I looked at the slave and I thought I saw a heightening of colour in his cheeks. Maybe a slave who liked to be dominated and forced to do what he would never choose to do on his own.
`What is your name, slave?'
`Toma, Master. Toma Rascu.'
`Serve my Overseer well and never give him cause for complaint. You like being his assistant?'
`Yes, Master. It is an honour to serve Overseer Georgi and each morning he reminds me how lucky I am to be able to serve him and through him to serve you, Master.'
`Well now, why Georgi have you come looking for me?'
`Master, I told you when choosing the slaves at the slave centre that I was only choosing the healthy ones for you.'
`Yes, I remember that you seemed to be sniffing them.'
`I was reminded of this today, Master, when I saw a slave whom I thought was not well, and having smelled him, I think he is sick.'
That I thought was an extraordinary statement. Humans can have great eyesight or hearing. Why can Georgi not have a great sense of smell, and more so at my Palaces in Dahra where the air is fresh and they are working outdoors all the time?
`See that the slave goes to see Dr. Miraldo.'
`Yes, Master.'
`Are there others who are sick?'
`Some, Master, not many.'
`Georgi, take some days off from the al-Kadir project. Get a list of all the slaves from Jens in the computer office. I want you to check each slave, Overseers and Supervisors as well, and send any slave whom you think is sick to Dr. Miraldo. I will have a word with him right away.'
`Yes, Master, immediately.'
I looked at the two departing slaves, one with my full trust and confidence, the other with two stripes across his backside who had found a new task in life.
I appraised Dr. Miraldo what would be going on.
`Jonathan, I have heard of stranger things and more curious abilities in my time in Brazil. Let's see who arrives as a result of Georgi's sniffing.'
A week later, Miraldo told me that he had examined a total of eight slaves all with a variety of illnesses, the most serious two with bowel and stomach cancer. I felt that Georgi had a strange gift, one that science could not yet explain. As long as he did not sniff me out one day, I would be quite happy.
One of the advantages of being Master with a lot of slaves is that life takes on schedule of its own. I refer in particular to schedules to morning and afternoon work for the slave are structured to tire them out but not so much that they do not want to exercise in the pool and the gym for that hour at least each day which they must do to keep fit according to my instructions.
There is an artificial fitness which comes from gyms and keep-fit salons, and there is a real fitness which comes from hard physical work each day. Both my gym Overseers have a strenuous individual programme for each slave and supervisor which keeps each in tip-top shape.
I was in the Lime Palace gym run by Rolf Hanzer looking at a floor display of gymnastics by the slaves who had been in training with Komil. I thought they were much more confident and polished than on the previous occasion. They were coordinated. Their muscles rippled in perfect movement. All were wearing a blue slip, as I had instructed previously, which revealed more than it actually concealed of their genitals. At least, it made them somewhat uniform. The applause I gave them was genuine and I was pleased.
I was about to get up from my chair, when Tony Sert, the gym Overseer at the Lemon Palace where the al-Kadir slaves also exercise, stepped forward and said, `Master, we have a further display for you from the al-Kadir slaves.'
With that two parallel bars and a pommel horse were brought out and the eight gymnasts whom the al-Qatim computer programme had chosen stepped forward in light green slips. There was a cheer from the al-Kadir slaves present and I realised that there was some form of competition existing between the various properties and their slaves.
I was struck by how well-looking the eight slaves were. The three who had looked if not ill, certainly under the weather health-wise when I had seen them perform at al-Qatim, were now tanned and trim, well-muscled, and if I say so myself, they actually looked fed. This was the second time they were to perform for me at the Palaces.
I had not uttered a word to Tony Sert who had stepped back to the side of the gymnastics mat. One of the slaves clapped his hands and two stepped forward, one to each piece of apparatus.
With slow deliberation and fluidity of motion, each took to the piece of equipment and carefully went through a three minute or so routine which showed strength and training, coordination and concentration. The performance of each was flawless.
As each came to the end of his routine, a further two slaves came forward started their routines, while the two who had finished started some easy floor movements. The two who were up on the apparatuses were clearly not as experienced as the first two and quickly finished to have their places taken by a further two, until only two slaves were left to perform and I recognised Simon Gulka as one of these.
When it was Simon's turn and that of the other slave, the two actually ran fast; one, Simon to the pommel horse and the other into a handstand on the double bars
For all of three minutes, there was not a sound in the gym as bodies swung and legs flashed, all the time with a gentle floor display going on to either side of the apparatuses.
For me the display ended all too soon, and my applause led that of the onlookers. I saw several of the gymnasts look to Simon as if to seek his approval of their routines. He was their leader without the shadow of a doubt.
I signalled him over.
`Take off that green slip,' I ordered. It was wet with perspiration and the hardness of his cock could be seen through it. I held out my hand for the slip which the slave had shucked down in a trice.
I brought the slip to my nose and inhaled the sweat of the gymnast and walking behind the still sweating slave, I rubbed the slip down his back wiping more perspiration off him, and when I was facing him, I asked `You have been training this team?'
Rolf was immediately at my side.
`Yes, Master. Simon is training them, just as Komil is the others. He still does not have a lot of English, but he is very enthusiastic.
`I can see that,' I said looking down at the slave's erection with the glans peeking out of its meriah half-circumcision of the foreskin. I looked into his trusting eyes and taking him by his now engorging penis, I led him across the gym area to applause and his blushes, and put my arm around him to show my approval as we exited.
Simon Gulka blushed his way through sex that was definitely a first for him and when I rimmed him that night with his muscled legs held tight for dear life over his head, his knees almost touching his ears, I whispered to him Stop?', his nyet, nyet, Master' was a sufficient confirmation to me that we would have many more a night of sex at the Lemon Palace.
He did not know what to do after I had come inside him, and I led him into the shower and we showered together. I resolved as he scrubbed my back that sex technique classes would be high on my agenda for him, even before gymnastics, as he had one of the tightest anuses I had ever broken. His tightness confirmed to me at least that gymnasts have that extra muscle power in their sphincter and rectal muscles.
One of the delights of keeping an open table is that guests are frequently overnighting, if not staying for weekends. October saw the return of Khalila bint Omar for four days, though apart from having the nightly attention of Vitali Belov or Bryce Sands, she made no demand on the schedules of the Palace. She was writing some legal opinion for the Council of State and said she needed peace and quiet. The Palace and its grounds are unmatchable for that.
Khalila came down for dinner each evening and regaled the medical staff, in particular, with stories of her time in Europe. I noticed that my old teacher Graham Hodson got on particularly well with her.
My general manager of the Aloe sap business, Gus Jennings--without either of his wives, Felipe Argüelles who has Dahra's only tennis court business and an old friend from university, Sir Alan Young were also my guests, so there was no shortage of repartee and good company. It was also an excellent opportunity for me to introduce my son Richard to part of my circle of acquaintances in Dahra.
What pleased all immensely were the evening performances of Kent Kialka who asked very humbly my permission to repeat the works of four previous Saturdays, apart from what he had learned for that weekend.
When Sabir came back to me with his staffing report on the three Palaces, I was very pleased. He had used the data given to him and the ideas I had suggested. He reduced the Household staff in each by a small number and based on the acreage of each Palace to be tended, he re-distributed and calculated the number of kofilas for each Stables at each Palace.
Sabir surprised me by giving me several scenarios based on the existing number of slaves in my ownership. As my Palace grounds are essentially farmlands worked by the manual labour of slaves, the workload is intensive for each area. Because of the heat and the abundance of water and fertilisers, one kofila of eight slaves can effectively handle forty acres. Anything more than that and you see weeds growing or plants unattended because there are not sufficient daylight hours for the work. It is not a question of the slaves just planting and moving on. That happens to a degree, but the slaves are more often than not concerned with the care of specific areas of land and crops.
What I feared might happen was, in fact, taking place. Each of the Palace's stables and lands was being starved of the right number of slaves for optimal production as their slave resources had been channelled towards the reclaiming of the al-Kadir lands and the planting of the kiwifruit for Graham Hodson.
A further scenario from Sabir was divided into two parts, the first excluding the Sheik's gift of five thousand acres, the second including the recovery of this large acreage.
Even without the al-Kadir property, the Palaces were being progressively starved of slaves. To set that matter right immediately, would require the purchase of a further one hundred and twenty five slaves, and the proper reclaiming of the Sheik's gift, another nine hundred slaves. This latter suggestion would take some extensive planning.
For a fleeting second, but no more, I thought of mechanisation, and dismissed it out of hand. I love the sight of naked slaves working on my orders. There is something distinctly unappetising about machinery doing the same job. I hold nothing against modern inventions, quite the contrary. There is simply no need to use them when much more pleasant alternatives to the eye exist.
Later that week when I told the Overseers, the Heads of Household were not entirely pleased, but the Heads of Stables delighted that all would be getting some of the new slaves.
In one way it was incongruous that Overseers, being slaves, were happy in seeing other slaves being purchased. The morality of it did not enter the equation. The practicality of a more structured system and ease of workload carried the day. End of Chapter 20 =========== 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