Dahran

This is the 20th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, and submission

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.

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

Contact points: eMail: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com Web: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Changed Life by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 20 -- Jess

It was well into September when Tariq al-Akhri rang me at the Bank. I had not actually seen him in almost two months. He had been away for the hot months of July and August with his extended family in Spain and then in England. I had seen a couple of mentions of him in the various financial papers.

`Tariq, delighted to hear from you. All is well?'

`Jonathan, all is fine. Spain was warm. England beautiful as ever. I took some of my sons down through the heart of the country and visited the names that they only knew as places on a map, Oxford and Cambridge, Derby and I don't know how many more places. We even visited Stratford-on-Avon!' and he laughed pleasantly at the memories.

`Jonathan, I do have a small favour to ask.'

`Tariq, you just have to say. The Bank is at your orders.'

`No, no, it not a Bank matter. It is more a personal request. When are you at home this evening?'

I stated any time after 5 in the evening, as I usually left the Bank at four, it being about an hour's straight drive out to the Aloe Palace.

`But you don't have to drive out to me, I can go and see you, now or later, or whenever you wish.'

`No, no, shall we say six o'clock, and I shall have a friend with me.'

I said, `Tariq, that will be fine and I hope that you and your friend will stay for dinner. I have a new chef. I look forward to being of any assistance I can.'

I was a little intrigued as to what Tariq's problem might be. However, I had to put it out of my mind as the day was very busy.

That afternoon, upon arriving home, I advised Aziz that we would be having visitors and to have Flavio prepare dinner for three for seven o'clock onwards. I doubted that Tariq and his friend, whoever he was would stay the night, and that being the case, would have to depart at a reasonable hour even though the weekend was coming up, so I had ordered the dinner a little earlier than usual.

True to his word, Tariq arrived just a few minutes after six in a large limousine with his friend who was a distinguished looking Arab, whose car it was and who had picked up Tariq from his Palace and driven him here.

Tariq's eyes were sparkling with amusement, and I wondered what was up. Little did I suspect.

We settled down on some couches in the Palace and refreshments were offered to my guests. Food and Drink were on their best behaviour and actually kissed their former Master's feet when they had brought the trays of refreshments in. Tariq looked at his guest and said, `These two incorrigibles used to be mine. Always upsetting the Palace. Now look at them.'

I did not get the inference. Because flighty and all as Food and Drink were, they had hardly been incorrigible at any stage, and I got the impression that Tariq was trying to make me out to be, in the eyes of his friend, more than I actually was. Of this, I was convinced, when he said to his friend, `Of course, I mentioned to you the other case with my brother's slave.'

Tariq had introduced his friend as Farouq Al-Hatim, so I said `Farouq, why don't you tell me what your problem is. If I can solve it, it must not be great.'

Farouq started to explain to me that he had a large property which included some three hundred or so slaves. I was surprised as I thought the only certain families in the country had that level of slaves, and I had not heard mention of him before in business or at the Bank. And as I think I may have mentioned, many of the families are inter-related.

His property included some mines in the foothills of the mountains so he invariably looked for strong working class slaves for his venture. He also had a private liking for American working class individuals and when one such slave came on the market at al-Qatim some months ago, he had bought him for 32,000 euro.

I thought to myself that either the `private liking' as Farouq had expressed it must be very strong or this was a particularly good piece of slave which he had bought.

The slave had been in training prior to the auction, so Farouq thought that it would be as usual, that he was getting a reasonably well trained and submissive slave. He was wrong. The slave was rebellious and dangerous and created all sorts of problems at his mine, to the extent that the two overseers there wanted to have him gelded to cut the testosterone levels in the slave's body.

However, Farouq was reluctant to do this and put up with the slave's behaviour as long as he could. He had been whipped a number of times, starved, left without water on two occasions for almost a whole day in the sun. I put up my hand. It was not necessary for Farouq to go on. I understood the problem.

I also said that I understood what annoyance a disruptive slave could cause in a well run establishment as had happened in one case, and I nodded to Tariq. I also said that it was not good for general discipline nor indeed for the reputation of the owner. And that reputation must be protected. Also that what was being said here did not go beyond the circle of the three of us ever!

`There! I told you Farouq he would understand perfectly,' Tariq said

Farouq had stopped talking and looked relieved.

`Where is the slave now and do you have the papers on him?'

In the car' -- he was in fact in the trunk of the car - and yes, I do have his papers with me. I had hoped you would accept this case.'

The comment puzzled me a little, until the penny dropped and I realised that Tariq had been `marketing' me as a specialist in slave training.

`Let me have him brought in for you,' I said and called on Aziz, to get Greg and to have Food and Drink standing by.

Two minutes later a worried looking driver came back in with Aziz and a six foot four hunk of prime American manhood. He was two hundred and ten pounds if he was an ounce, none of which was fat. His body looked hardened despite being fully naked and his ten inch cock half aroused. He was however filthy. His arms were held by Velcro to the back of a neck collar.

At that moment, Greg arrived followed in by a nervous Food and Drink. I circled the slave. His eyes were blazing and throwing out sparks of heaven knows what. Resentment, hatred, resistance? Or perhaps, all three.

I looked at his file. His name was Jess Tollman, from Michigan and aged twenty four. Formerly a car worker on an assembly line, married with two kids, a boy and a girl. He had been `lifted' when going on a so-called camping trip with two friends, who had, in fact, sold him for $5,000 dollars.

He was struggling against the hold the driver had on his arm, and calling the driver quite a few names. Aziz's eyes were dangerously slitted as if he had seen and heard enough.

Apart from his height and weight which I had got almost to the pound, Jess Tolmann's SIN number was 473724. He had been given shots for the usual nine different diseases, had been seen by the veterinary dentist for four fillings and a dental descaling. The attached half page doctor's report had ok ticks in every box, one of while said Fertile: very'. Further boxes Flaccid: 16', Erect: 31' and Circ. 16'. Clearly a long and well hung guy.

Further boxes said Foreskin: u/c', Anus: virgin', Status: tight', Prostate: walnut sized'.

I wondered just how many had held him down for that particular examination.

Speaking first in English so that he would understand me, speaking as if to him and to him alone in the room, I said `Jess, welcome to my home. You are going to be taken for a shower and a shave, and by the looks of it, a haircut. Let my two slaves here do that for you and afterwards I shall look in on you.'

He had not said a word but his chest was heaving a little less. I put my hand on it and looking in his eyes said Calm down. Calm down. You need to be cleaned up. Can I take the neck collar off you? If I do, are you going to behave? A simple Yes' will do.'

The `Yes' was said defiantly.

I took off the neck collar -- it has a simple lock which only a special Allen key opens and which I borrowed momentarily from Aziz. The American slave brought his arms and hands down from the back of his head.

I undid the Velcro and the collar dropped to the floor. Turning to Food and Drink, I said, `Take him. Shower him outside and inside and shave him. Give him a haircut, and then tell Greg here when he is ready.'

Food came forward and took the six foot four American by his half tumescence cock. He did it as the most natural thing in the world, as if taking a cow by its halter or a pony by its reins. Jess gave a start but followed where the pull on his cock led him.

Turning to Greg, I said `When he is showered, put the collar back on him with his hands behind his neck, and bring him to the re-training room. Put him on his back on the table with his feet on the floor.' Greg left with my instructions.

Turning to my two guests, I said, `Enough of this tiresome business. My hospitality is atrocious. Allow me to offer you dinner.'

Farouq was looking at Tariq, and Tariq just smiled.

Over dinner which was absolutely superb, a cold gazpacho soup was followed by lightly garlicky goujons of breast of chicken with sugarsnap peas and button champignon mushrooms, followed by a cherry iced sorbet.

Farouq looked a little on edge towards the end of the meal. He said he did not want to be impolite, but could I state my fee in all of this. I looked at him and then at Tariq, not knowing what Tariq had told him, but who seemed highly amused.

`Farouq, there is no fee in this. This is a minor inconvenience for you and a pleasure for me to assist. Consider it like you passing me the salt or the pepper or vice versa.'

Tariq roared with laughter. `Farouq, that is putting your problem in perspective.'

`But, Farouq, this is a favour between friends, no more, no less.'

`How long will it take you to do what ever you have to do with the slave?' he asked and looked at Tariq who was smiling.

`How long? I don't know. Some days, a week? I don't know. It depends on the slave, but it should not be long.'

As I had guessed neither guest could or would stay the night. I was bidding them off in front of the Palace, when Greg was at my side and said, `The slave is in the re-training room as you ordered, Master,' so I walked round the Palace in the cool evening air and into the outbuilding which contained the re-training room.

Jess had been much cleaned up. Though tanned, he still had a white band of flesh around his waist. His pubes and the hair of his head had been trimmed as in the custom of slaves in my Palace. He had lost his treasure trail and his pits hair.

He was lying on his back on the large leather covered table, his neck collar clipped to a hook on the edge so that he could not come forward. His legs were over the near side. I stood between his legs, each of which had been lightly fastened to a forward leg of the table. I could feel the heat coming off him. His cock was still at half mast, so I flicked it up flat on his stomach. It seem to stretch a little further as it tumefied.

`Jess, let me tell you what I am going to do.' His eyes flickered in apprehension but he said nothing.

`I am going to break you. I don't think you have actually ever been broken before like I am going to break you, because I would see it in your eyes. That submission I am looking for is not there. That submission is not for me. It is for your Master.'

`I have no Master. I am a free man. I am an American. Let me out of here! I am a free man,' he shouted.

`No, Jess, you are a slave. And you do have a Master whom you do not respect yet.'

Greg was still at my side. `Master, do you want me to leave?'

I was going to say Yes', but thought better of it and said, No, stay here and look and learn.'

Turning to Jess I said, `There are 87 sensitive points on the human body. This evening, I am going to hit each one of them once, only once. The blows in some cases may not be hard. In others, they will be. In all, they will be the most powerful feelings of continuous pain that you have ever felt. They will humiliate you, not just before me. They will humiliate you before yourself, when you realise that you are not as strong or as brave or as hard-assed as you think you are.'

I let that message sink in and continued, `Then tomorrow evening, I shall hit each of them twice. The day after three times, and so on until you break. Let me tell you, no one has ever gone beyond day three' -- that was a half truth, but economy with the truth is nothing new in the world.

`So, by Sunday night at the very latest, you will be your Master's obedient slave and you will remember this weekend until the day you die.'

Jess let fly a stream of obscenities and curses. I let them flow and made no attempt to stop him.

`That's ok, Jess, say all you want, because when the session begins it will be only your screams which you will hear. Now, say anything you want while you can.'

From the corner of my eye, I could see that Greg looked quite shocked by what I had said. So I said to him, `fasten a Velcro strap over his hips so that his body does not move in over the table.'

This he did immediately. Unloosening Jess' left leg, I brought it back up over his chest and fastened it with a strap to about a foot and a half to the side of his head. I did similarly with his right leg on the right side.

In this way, the soles of his feet were actually out over the far side of the table, and his butt was being pulled up into the air, with its cheeks wide apart. No amount of muscle power could keep the buttock cheeks together one his legs were so widely splayed. His pink butt hole looked small and tight, and glinted shiny, showing the signs of a recent wash and some lubrication on it, as would be the Palace's custom, from Food and Drink's ministrations of having washed him outside and inside.

His cock was stuck halfway between his stomach and his right leg, obviously a natural resting place for a man who jacked off with his right hand. So I straightened it and laid its head just covering his belly button. It was surprisingly firm for a flaccid cock and all of its stated 25 centimetres was beautiful to hold and to sensually stroke particularly around the cut flange.

`Don't touch me. Leave me alone' were followed again by a string of working class obscenities mainly of a sexual nature, but for all their toughness, that was an element of pleading somewhere in their background. It was not the outburst of outrage. It was the outburst of helplessness in the hands of a Master.

I ran my hand over his thighs and up the back of his legs. He struggled but could do no more.

`Now, Jess, I am going to tell you precisely what I am going to do each time, so that you are not surprised by it. Before I start on your sensitive spots, all 87 of them one after another, I need to see just how sensitive your skin is and that is best tested with the bastinado of the soles of your feet. It is itself a method of punishment in Iran and Turkey, but I am not using it to punish you just simply to test the sensitivity of your skin which I do not wish to break.'

Jess was now perspiring as he struggled. His obscenities were little more than cries to let him go.

`The bastinado of each of the spaces between your toes will come later on in the evening. As I have not got a proper Turkish bastinado, I shall merely use an ordinary light, very light, may I add, camel cane.'

Moving to the left of his head, I brought the cane done on the upturned sole of his left foot. A scream came out of his throat like nothing human. I went over to inspect the sole. The skin was not broken, and running a finger over the fast rising weal, he garbled a scream again.

`Excellent response, Jess, very sensitive skin. Beautiful, if I may say so.' I was moving to the right side of his head, when he lost control of his bladder and yellow urine covered his chest and ran down on the table. His nose was also running and a dribble was coming from his mouth. I had deliberately not put in a gag, and trusted that he would not bite his own tongue.

`Greg, get a rag and dry up his piss. I don't want this slave lying in his own piss.'

Greg ran to get a cloth, and while he did I just rubbed my fingers through Jess' recently cut hair.

`Now, now, Jess, don't let a loss of bladder control upset you. It and a loss of bowel control always happens. That is why I had Food and Drink clean you out. I hope you are well cleaned out, because there is nothing quite like the smell of warm shit splattered all over the place.'

Greg came back with a small towel and quickly mopped up the piss. Jess' eyes were now streaming tears of pain and shame. Not to lose, the moment, I went to his right side and brought the camel cane down full force on his right sole. His scream split the air like a knife. Again, I examined the sole and declared my satisfaction with it and his skin's sensitivity and his response.

`Now, Jess, for the first of the 87 strokes. I shall walk you through each. This one is on your clenched anus, which by the looks of it is virginal. You have never had anything up there have you, except a soapy finger perhaps and whatever douche they used on you today. Your anus has more sensitive spots, do you know than the tip of your cock, to which we will get later on. On it, I am merely using this light whip of knotted twine as you can see - not at all heavy.'

I went round between his legs and stepping back took aim at his puckered rosebud, imagined it the size of a car wheel, and swung. I was very pleased. The tip of the small whip hit it bull's-eye centre. Jess convulsed and if he had screamed before, this was a man's scream from the bottom of his lungs to the upper reaches of every chord in his voicebox. The Velcro strap held him firmly in place. His eyes were standing out in his head and tears streaming down from the sides of his eyes.

`Well screamed, Jess, one done 86 to go. Now, it is the turn of your right testicle.'

I took aim and though not with the full force of my arm, as I did not want to burst the testes, picturing it as large as a basketball in my mind's eye, I hit it centre on. Jess screamed and screamed and screamed. It went on for almost twenty seconds and then there was the most uncanny silence as air rushed back into his lungs and he tried to recover his lost breath.

`Now, Jess, that was a really good scream, I would say. Well done. Two done and 85 to go. Now the left testicle and I moved to get into position.

The stroke to his left testicle was clean and precise and spot on. Jess' scream was more than just a piercing shout, it was a convulsion of a strangled cry of pain.

Sobbing, shouting, quite incoherent, it took me some seconds to make out what he was trying to say....'Master, Master, no, Master, no...'

Two minutes into a session more of psychological torture than of long drawn out physical abuse, Jess Tollman had broken, and he was his Master's slave.

I went round to this head and his eyes alone were pleading up at me to stop his punishment.

Jess, this is not a game. If you say, Master' it means that you acknowledge that you are now a slave and that your Master is just that. Is that what you are trying to say?

`Master, yes. I have a Master. No more please, Master, no more.'

I turned to Greg. `Get him down and get him ready for bedding for the night, then let me know.'

The atmosphere in the re-training room was warm and opening the soundproof door, I walked out into the cool of the courtyard to go and get myself a refreshing drink in the kitchens. Flavio, the Italian cook slave, was still tidying up after the dinner. I took his magnificent member in my hand and stroked it until it was firm.

`And what were you thinking of doing to-night, Flavio?'

At that Bob, came in with some stores, and seeing Flavio's erection, went quite red. `And you, too, Bob, what were also thinking of doing to-night?'

I had not expected an answer, but Bob blurted out red as a beetroot, `I was going to suck Flavio off as usual, Master.'

I got the impression that Bob, the Canadian jock, could not lie!

I smiled at his simplicity and openness of manner and said, `When you too are finished here, get up to my bedroom and I shall see how well you do your business.'

I asked Flavio for two slave biscuits and a jug of water and walked back across the courtyard. Greg was just helping Jess up along the passageway from the shower. He was limping along trying not to put the soles of his feet on the ground.

I waited until Jess and followed Greg to the ground in obeisance. Jess took a while to get up. I said, `Now, steady boy,' and weighed his right, and then his left testicle in the palm of my hand. He tensed, groaned but did not move.

`Good, boy. Good, boy. In the morning you are going to have one sore asshole and two very bruised testicles, and a lot of broken pride. Tonight, Jess, you belong to Greg. Do for him anything he asks. Let him do to you, anything he wants. Do you understand?'

Jess gulped once or twice but said `Yes, Master'.

`Good. Here's your supper. You must be hungry after all that screaming. And Jess, there is no shame in your capitulation. It was like the sea on a rock. Sooner or later, the rock crumbles.'

`Greg, he's all yours for to-night. Remember at times it is best to be cruel to be kind. And if you are gentle on him tonight, he will resent you.'

I left him to Greg's devices and went up to my bedroom to see what Flavio and Bob intended to do to themselves and for me. However, I was so tired that when I lay down on the bed, I actually fell asleep and woke up early morning to find the pair on either side of me fast asleep. So much, for a night of sexual passion, if its intention had been to just look at the action of others!

As soon as I had breakfast, I called Tariq and told him that Farouq could have his slave collected anytime, that he was now broken.

Tariq said `Not possible!'.

I said, `You can't contact Farouq?'

`No, no, the slave can't be broken already.'

I assured him that Jess Tollman was broken and wanted his Master. Tariq roared with laughter and could not stop.

`I am going to call Farouq as soon as he is up for breakfast. He is a late riser and may we call on you to inspect this so-called broken slave?'

I could not understand his uncontrolled laughter, and the fits of coughing that came with it. But I said yes, they could come as I was in the Aloe Palace all day.

I had Greg called to the portico of the Palace where I was having breakfast in the morning cool. He came and stood at display'. I told him to go to rest' and said `Well?'

`I don't understand, Master. Well, what?'

`What did you and Jess do last night?'

He went bright red, he spluttered and could not find the words. He then calmed down, and seeing that I was looking him straight in the eye, made eye contact with me and said, `I had him suck my tits and lick my armpits.'

As I made no response, the bright red got deeper. `I made him suck me until I got hard.'

Again, I made no response, Greg gulped, `And then I fucked him fast and hard. And again a second time, Master, this morning'

Fast and hard,' you say. He was unbroken?'

`He was last night, Master. He was not this morning.'

`Where is he now?'

`Milking Food and Drink. I think, Master, for the second time.'

Now it was my turn to laugh.

`Fast and hard, eh, Greg? Who would have thought it, that a nice guy like you would be barebacking a horny twenty four year old father of two?'

I told Greg that Farouq would be around to collect his slave and explained precisely how he was to be greeted by his slave in kneeling obeisance.

It was well after lunch, when Tariq and Farouq arrived. I summoned Greg and told him to get Jess Tollman. He came back with Jess some moments later. Tariq was looking at me and at Farouq.

Jess rushed across and made obeisance at the feet of Farouq and kissed both his feet. Then he put Farouq right foot on the nape of his neck as his forehead touched the marble of the reception room floor as he had been instructed by my orders to Greg. If thunder had rolled and lightening had flashed, a greater impression could not have been made. Even Tariq was impressed and Farouq was astounded.

Turning to Tariq, he said `You knew something!' It was half a challenge, half a denunciation.

Tariq was laughing until the tears were rolling down his face. `No, my cousin, I did not know anything specific. All I knew was that this slave here -- pointing to Greg - whom my brother Rashid could not control or break was broken by this my friend, this Englishman. Can I tell him the rest, my cousin?'

Farouq was spluttering. I don't think Farouq was his actual cousin -- some sort of distant relation perhaps - but I was totally at sea now.

Tariq with a grin a mile wide, started by saying, When Farouq had this problem, I said to him to let you, dear Jonathan, break his slave. He agreed. To make it interesting, I said to him, If the slave breaks within a day, he is Jonathan's. If he breaks within two days, he is mine. If he breaks after two day's he would still be Farouq's. So now, dear cousin,' he said addressing Farouq, `who owns this slave?' and Tariq started to laugh again at the joke.

Farouq threw his hands up in the air, and said to Jess at his feet, who was still crouched there, Slave, this is your new Master' indicating me. Go to him now!'

Jess scuttled across the floor and for the second time in less than five minutes made obeisance and kissed a Master's feet and placed a Master's foot on the nape of his neck. Greg's clear warning were evidently still echoing in his ears.

I looked from one to the other and back again and then at Greg.

`Take this slave out of here and I shall inspect him later.'

Turning to my guests, I said `I am indebted to you both. Now let us dine.'

Jess Tollman made a fine addition to the Palace. I took him that night to my bed and was the second person to ride him. Like surgery, I believe, a slave should be broken in hard and fast. His anal tightness disappeared after an hour of constant fucking and I started him on this training how to please a Master in bed. The former paint factory worker with a penchant for motors was a quick learner and quickly adapted to the life of the Palace.

To be continued...