There are the final 10th and 11th chapters of The Kazakh's Story, a novel about slavery and gay sex in modern times.
Key words: 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.
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The Kazakh's Story by Gerry Taylor
Chapter 10 -- Crime and punishment
The Master had taken to having his breakfast on a type of veranda overlooking the courtyard. It had the advantage that the sun neither hit it in the morning nor the evening, only when it was highest. The Master was there drinking a coffee which I could smell from thirty feet away and reading a pink coloured newspaper.
We both stood, Radek and I, in the sun about twenty feet from the Master, until turning a sheet of the newspaper he saw us and looked at us. I ran forward, made a double quick obeisance, and lifting my eyes to the Master, and put my case in a nutshell, `Master, Yuriy bad. Yuriy bad.' Five words of a guilty plea, if ever there was one.
The Master, of course, did not know the hell what was going on! Looked at me and then looked at Radek, who started to explain in fluent English, and mime and gesture, I got the bit about his finger on one hand going through a hole made by two fingers of the other. Maybe his English was not that fluent, but it sounded like a professional lawyer to my ears.
Oh, the Master understood all right! He slapped the pink paper down on the table and shouted for Aziz. The slaves were to assemble in the courtyard. At that time there were just about sixteen or so of us in all -- Aziz, the six who had arrived with my old Master's overseer, the four on loan to the Palace from my old Master, the two who had been delivered to the city house of my Master. Oh, why, oh why had I ever looked at that little frightened rabbit and his pretty little eyes?
The Master went inside and was to be called when we were all assembled in the morning sun. He left us waiting a good fifteen minutes in the sun. Even though it was not yet warm, the sweat was running off me. A good whisper goes thought the ranks quickly, a bad one like shit thought an Artic goose. We were not two minutes at display until everyone knew what I had done and with whom.
The Master came out and called for a cane to be brought from the re-training room and also the big scissors there. My knees were weak. The Master was going to have me flogged. That I could take, but to have my corporal off as well. That I would beg him not to do, and I would find gypsy blood in my veins and beg him professionally until he relented.
Someone at the back returned running with one of those four foot long camel canes and the largest scissors I had laid my eyes on in a long time. I had understood what the master had said when asking for the scissors, because that word is in one of my English lessons. I could feel the sweat running down my back.
The Master took the cane, and swished it in the air. It cut the air like the bloody big camel cane that it was -- a vicious thing in his hand. The scissors were in his other hand. He told me to step forward and then in the same breath called Jiri forward. I did not understand the words, but he was telling all of what I had done. That Jiri had been taken by me and that I was to be punished severely.
The Master came up to me and with two fingers bent me over until my head was just touching my knees. I could feel the eyes of all the slaves on my backside. I was hoping my buttocks were jammed tight that no one could see my shivering hole.
The Master handed the camel cane to Jiri and told him to flog my backside as much as he wanted.
Jiri said something and turned round to look at Radek to get him to say it in English. Radek told everyone in the courtyard how I had ridden Jiri for almost an hour -- it could not have been that long, little rabbit -- and had hurt him. But that he did not want to beat me, because that when I had finished taking my pleasure on him, I had given him such pleasure making love to him in so many ways, that he was grateful to the Master for putting him to bed with me that night -- well, I had given the little rabbit some pleasure, had I not?--that must count for something, should it not?
It was not strange that Jiri did not want to beat me in a way, because in all my years afterwards in the service of my Master, I have never known a slave wanting to beat another slave unless actually ordered to do so.
Then the Master said, `does any slave want to punish, Yuriy, for what he has done?
You could hear a mosquito fly around the courtyard it was so quite. No one offered to punish me. Now the sweat was running down off my shoulders and neck onto my face, as I could see the legs of the slaves back though my own.
The Master said, `if no one wants to punish you, Yuriy, then I shall have to do it. Stand up,' he said to and held out his hands for the scissors.
All the words, I did not understand, but I certainly got the meaning and I certainly saw the scissors. The sweat was in my eyes and I was about to beg for my corporal, and definitely beg for my balls, when the Master produced a roll of red ribbon from his pocket and cut off a good length of it.
What was he going to do? My eyes were fixated on the scissors and on his hands and on the red ribbon.
`Turn.'
I turned to face the slaves and the Master took the ribbon and tied it round my cock which was as hard as hard could be with having been forced back between my legs when I was bent down, and he made a bow of the ribbon.
The slaves almost doubled over in laughter and their hands behind their necks in display were moving all over the place.
That was not the end of it, the Master took what was like a white postcard from his pocket on which there was a word written in red. He punched a hole through the top of the card with a pen from inside his coat and threaded the postcard onto the bow decorating my cock. The word read `Danger'. My poor corporal was being listed as a danger to all!
The courtyard rocked with laughter, but the laughter was on me, because the Master then said that the `Danger' was not to be touched by me or by anyone else for one whole week. The ribbon could be taken off when I was in the shower, but my cock was not to be washed or touched by anyone but my balls could be, and after the shower the ribbon and its sign were to be put on again. If I pissed, well, all had better stand aside!
I did not understand the reference to my balls until Radek told me all what the Master had said. But I found out the following morning when the ribbon was being put on again after the shower, everyone in the shower came across to check' that the ribbon was on right' and not being able to touch my cock, they just fondled my balls, and fondled my balls, and fondled my balls, until I thought that I would cum each time there and then.
That excruciating torture went on and on for five full days, particularly fomented by those two slaves who were not at that time even members of the Aloe Palace, whom the Master called Food and Drink.
When checking my ribbon each time and they did it various times a day, they did not touch my little corporal as all had been ordered not to do, but with a lot of giggles and glee, would blow on him and keep blowing on him until he was jerking around like a marionette on a string.
At times, I was actually holding my legs together, like you know when you want take a piss but can't because there is no place to piss. But I could not get the permanent erection down and I can assure you there is nothing more painful than a totally permanent erection.
For all of this, however, I truly loved my Master because I knew I had done him wrong and he was punishing me in a manner befitting my crime of taking the little rabbit. I never missed his return from work which was now always at five o'clock because he had to drive an hour each day back from the capital city.
I was five days into my punishment and as usual I was at the top of the steps waiting for his limousine car to come up into the outer courtyard. In the new Palace, the Master's car can be seen coming from a mile away as that evening.
I ran down with my red bow and sign in place. The Master got out of the car and said `Good evening, Yuriy'. I could have been there in full Captain's uniform, because he never looked down at my steel hard erection. Even the thought of him not looking down make me go even harder.
`How are you this evening?'
`Very well, Master' -- that I had learned to say very clearly.
At that point, the Master looked down at my erection.
`Yes, indeed, you are very well' and he just stroked the tip of my cockhead with the back of his finger.
Had he punched me in the gut, there could not have been a more definite reaction. I gave a groan that must have been heard at the front gate.
`Bad is it, Yuriy?
`Yes, Master, bad, very bad'. To myself I thought five days gone, two days to go.
The Master went in to change and to take his evening swim with the German slave, Rolf, who was now being his pacemaker. Afterwards, he came up to get dressed in his bedroom and I was there to attend him. Twice `accidentally' he brushed up against either my cock or my cock and balls, and each time I had to clench my legs together or surely I would have collapsed. The Master watched my antics and continued dressing.
When we went down for the Master's evening meal instead of going directly in to the eating area, the Master went out and sat on the veranda and had Aziz assemble all of the slaves.
When they all arrived in less than a minute, as all were generally around, the Master called me forward and had me face them and called Jiri forward.
`Jiri, take off the red ribbon.'
Jiri understood that clearly by the Master's gesture.
`Now come around to the back of Yuriy,' which he did.
Yuriy,' he said to me, you are not to come until I say so.' I understood that, because his gestures were clear.
`Now, Jiri, come,' and the Master took Jiri's small hand from around my back and put it on my erection. I nearly lost control there and then.
`Ready, Jiri,' and the Master made the universal sign of wanking.
Jiri, that once petrified rabbit that he was, actually put his head from around the back of me where he was standing and grinned at all the slaves. The slaves, at rest, were grinning hugely.
The Master stretched out his arm, crooked it and looked at his watch, waited some seconds as if the second hand had to get in place, and said `Now, Jiri.'
Jiri started a slow jerk up and down my shaft. His tiny fingers touch my cockhead and its flange and I groaned. When would the Master allow me to come? The Master had not told me when. Or had he and I had not understood?
Jiri's fingers touched and gripped and clasped and held and rubbed my shaft two, three, four times. My knees were tight together, my groans all over the courtyard, the Master looking at his wrist.
Jerk five of Jiri's hand was it. His grip had become slick with my copious precum and it now travelled fluidly down my shaft. The edge of his hand hit my balls ever so lightly on the downward thrust and that was it.
My privates have never obeyed a wristwatch. My privates would never have been allowed stay in any army in the entire world because of their permanently disobedient attitude, and now, it was no different.
Five days pent up seed travelled from my balls and down my piss hole with the speed of a cannon ball and shot out over the courtyard in a single bolt of white lightning. Radek subsequently measured the length pacing it with his feet one in front of the other. My first shot went all of eight feet, but that was just the range finder. My second and third shots were just under nine feet on the dry sand and cobbles of the yard.
Jiri was only getting into the hang of things as how hard to squeeze and how hard to travel down the now totally slick shaft of my cock. I shot a total of ten times, I was told and the last time I felt has if I had shot one of my own nuts down my piss hole.
I had to say, `Jiri, Jiri, please.'
How easily that word was remembered in English and said so beggingly and grovellingly.
But Jiri stopped there and then, and from that they onwards, I never really called him little rabbit' any more in my mind but friend'.
The slaves just applauded. The Master applauded slowly with a shake of his head as if not believing what he had just witnessed. He handed me the postcard and the red ribbon, and told me to put them in the re-training room just in case ever needed again, which in my case they definitely were not.
The only thing that left me worried about all of that was the look on Aziz' face as I went towards the re-training room. He had not been laughing, not even smiling and I got the clear impression from him that where punishment was involved, that it was never to be a laughing matter.
The following day in the evening the Master had me attend the breaking of the slave, Greg. That slave's attitude was trouble. In my mind, he needed to be ridden and ridden hard.
I do not know what happened in the re-training room, because the Master made me and Radek leave once we had brought the slave Greg in, but two hours later, he was broken, and the way he walked out between us afterwards, and his buttocks clenching his backside, I could have sworn, well almost sworn that the Master had taken him and had used his virginity against him. I know he had been a virgin going in because I had showed him when he was first brought in.
When we showered him after his re-training and I douched him as instructed by the Master, the douche went in very very quickly and easily, unlike the previous time. But I think he had been broken in by the Master, because once we were in the slave quarters about to bed down for the night, the Master said Radek and I could use him. Which we did twice each. He did not cry out like a virgin and just kept his eyes closed until I had finished, well and truly finished, the second time. It was as if he had lost something that evening, not just his sense of freedom, but his anal virginity to boot.
But one thing came well of this fiasco of me not having understood that the taking of the anal virginity of slaves was out of bounds except for the Master. We were informed of a change in our work schedules which would now include a class each day for both Arabic and English.
I was very popular when I informed the slaves who had not English of my video and tapes up in the bedroom upstairs. I think the Master had even forgotten that he had bought me such precious presents. I told the Master and he had me bring them down to the room which we used for classes. I let it be very clearly known that the Master had bought these things for me, but that even after all their laughing at me in the courtyard, I was willing to share them, perhaps for a little favour or two in return in due course!
Then, of all people, Greg whom I had taken so well in bed that night the previous week was assigned to me and to some others to be my English teacher. He was just that and he never mentioned what had happened and he never once made feel little in class for all my many and repeated mistakes.
If the truth be told, I think he said excellent' and very good' to me more often than to the others. But then, with so few in his class, we progressed rapidly.
One very very bad thing was avoided in those days as well. The Palace staff was expanding a lot. The Master had lots of things to do and was getting more slaves. Someone recommended an overseer to him as Aziz, though in full charge of the household, never really came into the gardens and fields to see what needed to be done.
This man arrived, all I remember was that he was Russian and that his first name was Ivan. As soon as I saw his or literally ran into him as he came round a corner of the Palace, I knew that he was military. How? It takes one to know one. He was military, believe you me.
He had physically bumped into me at the end of the Palace near the garden and when he uttered a curse in Russian, he must have seen that I understood.
Before you could say the time of day, he knew my name and where I was from, what I had done in the army. I did not mean to give him the information. It just seemed to flow out of me. And...I am so ashamed of this, I told him of Radek my lover and how sometimes I would be each week with the Master. He had eyes so black and so soulless that had he asked for anything I would have told him.
And then me said, `let me see your run, Yuriy Andreyvich.'
`Where comrade overseer? I had even fallen into the old ways of addressing him.
`On the spot, Yuriy Andreyvich, and let me see those knees hit your belly button each time.'
I ran on the spot for so long my mind went blank as it filtered out the pain in my legs and lungs.
All the time he was smoking one foul cigarette after another as he sat on the garden wall. It must have been for all of half an hour at least, because he had smoked four cigarettes and left the butts on the ground.
When he finally said `Stop', my body would hardly stand still. My muscles were still jerking and the pain hit me in wave after wave as cramp set in to my groin area which had been stretched by the high leg movement.
`I will have that well trained arse of yours, Sergeiy Andreyvich, and when I am finished with you, I will have your little bumboy, Radek.'
His black soulless eyes made me believe every single word as true, and I remembered the stories of those wretches whose careers had failed in the battlefields with the Taliban and who had been taken away to be interrogated -- debriefed was the official name -- as to why they had allowed, condoned and assisted in the failure of the troops given to them to ensure success. I could well have envisaged this Ivan as one of those interrogators of those unfortunate wretches who never came back to command not even a platoon of men again, let alone a brigade.
I resolved for the sakes of all the slaves to try and speak with the Master. My luck was in, in that the Master at times, came to say goodnight to the slaves as they were bedded down. He called it an evening inspection, but it was not, he wanted to be near his slaves.
I waited and waited until all were either on their pallets or going into the communal cells and he saw me. The words so carefully and painstakingly marshalled in my mind to say to him in English all came apart like beads off a string, and I could only fall at my Master's feet and kiss them and I put his foot on the nape of my neck. I know I was trembling and all I could say was `Yuriy good. Yuriy Master. Yuriy Radek.'
The Master took me to a side cell from the others and sat me down on a pallet beside the wall and sat down beside me. He put his hand on my chest and mimed that I should breath deeply, which I did for some minutes.
`Now, Yuriy, speak.'
It took a long time for me to tell him and have him understand what had happened. The Master smiled at me and intertwined two of his fingers and showed me what he meant putting his two index fingers in a link. I nodded vigorously. And I imitated this saying that the Master and I were a link and I and Radek were like two intertwining fingers, another link.
He sent me off to bed as there was another slave waiting to see him, which struck me as unusual, as I was really the last slave into the common cells. But no, it was Greg who wanted to talk to the Master. When I got back to my pallet, Radek was not there. I did not sleep as I waited for him to arrive from wherever he. But I must have finally slept, because in the morning I awoke and Radek had still not come back.
The following morning my worst fears were realised when Bob, who usually now served the Master's table came running to tell me to come quickly. It had to be Radek and it was.
He had made it from an upstairs bedroom down to inside the veranda door trying, I presume, to get out to the slave-quarters but he had collapsed there. His back from his neck down to the back of his knees was the most singular and frightening line after line of welts. No line crossed another. No line was more than a half inch from an other. No line was nearer to another by the same half inch. It was as if he had been flogged by a machine such was the perfection, if that is the foul word, of the beating.
I knew the name of the soulless machine who had done this to my buddy and lover!
As I lifted him up, his eyes focussed on me and he whispered in Russian which he spoke a little, `Yuriykin -- that was his pet name for me -- I would not cry out for him' and then he sort of fainted in my arms.
I carried Radek as best I could to the slaves quarters and started to put cold water in a compressed towel on his back -- there was nothing else I had.
The Master came in soon after and his eyes were blazing with controlled anger. For some reason, he came over and very gently separated the cheeks of Radek's backside and appeared relieved at what he saw. Radek had not been with the Master yet, so he was, or at least, had been intact. When the Master left, I checked myself, and my lover appear to be still intact as there was no anal bruising or signs of any moisture, semen or otherwise around his most private orifice.
The Master before going out actually shouted at Bob to go to the house and to get something which turned out to be tablets in tinfoil. Bob split two of the tablets and emptied their contents into a plastic cup and filled it quarter full of water, swirled it round and round, while I got Radek on his side, so that he could sip and swallowed the dissolved painkillers.
After that morning I never saw the Russian again. There are those who say that out of everything, even of evil, there can come some good. Such was a case here. The Master never again thought of bringing in an outside overseer, but always promoted his overseers from among the slaves. The only non-slaves in the Palace were at any time the medical personnel who came to work for us and specialists who might arrive for a particular job for a day or two.
But the overseers were from that point onwards only considered from among the best and most hardworking slaves.
Chapter 11 -- A good life
It was some months afterwards that I got great news. My English was marching bounds and leaps as we say in that language.
The Master had us all assemble in the courtyard as actually asked us all who should be promoted to overseer. No one spoke. The mosquitoes stopped flying. The crickets in the garden could be heard, chirping `What_was_that? What_was_that? What_was_that?.
And then I heard my name being called out by the Master and he made me the head of stables, that is the old title for farm manager. When he handed the most beautiful black onyx fly swish, the symbol of my authority from him, I was in a state of shock and dropping to my knees, the only word I could remember in all my English training was `Master, Master....'.
On turning towards my new slave charges, I saw that my lover Radek's eyes were bright with pride and although being at rest', his chest was stuck out if at display'like a merganser duck.
An overseer in the Master's Palace is allowed to wear clothes, though still technically a slave. I took to wearing the local Arab white shirt-like gallabiya cinched with a leather belt and the some very short and very loose khaki trousers so as not to keep my privates and little corporal too confined in the heat. But when in Dahra do as the Dahrans do, I never went back to wearing shoes, it being too hot, and when I had to accompany the Master later on, I merely used sandals.
The night of my promotion, the Master asked for me and for Radek to go to his bedroom suite and he told Radek about me as his first slave lover and how Radek was to make me forget the burden of my daily duties every night, and that he was going to show Radek how he had pleasured me the very first time. My knees were weak at the memory.
The Master told me to strip for him one last time, because from now on, I would will take from among the slaves those whom I wished.'
I was naked in a trice.
Display', the Master ordered and I went to a perfect display'.
He said to Radek, `this, Radek, is how I touched your lover for the first time' and bending me over and letting Radek see the perfection of my butt hole, he tongued and rimmed me until my gasps of pleasure were in a continuous flow, and I was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.
Then the Master slapped me on the backside and said `Now let me see you take Radek, your lover, and let me see how you pleasure him.'
I looked at the Master and at his own turgid member. `But, you Master, you need me as well,' I replied.
`First, Radek,' he said and I took my lover in my arms and for over an hour, in a passion of delights, I caressed and touched and licked and pinched and tasted my lover's body.
Finally when even I thought that my body or at least certain parts of it would explode, I entered Radek with a sexual slowness of pure sensuality. Radek arched and bucked. Radek tried to kiss me, but I gently rebuffed him and pushed him back. Never once for the first fifteen minutes did my trimmed pubic hairs touch Radek's, but my cock was certainly touching the right spots inside my lover who was whimpering with pleasure and joy.
Then there was some sexual change of gear. I almost withdrew fully and then pulled Radek's hips back fully on my distended and swollen manhood. Both of us gave a cry of pleasure. A second time. A third time. My pubic bone crashed into Radek's perineum creating the emotional havoc akin to the disturbance of a stone dropping from a height into calm water.
An arch of cum left Radek's penis and shot over his head to be joined by a second and a third one. I gave a hoarse shuddering cry and released my pent-up semen into my lover and collapsed into his arms.
That night after I had made love to Radek, I wanted to attend to the Master's own needs but he whooshed both of us out of the bedroom suite when we had recovered and told me to bed down in my new overseer's quarters.
Looking at Radek, the Master said `Whom you invite to spend the night is your business' and I left for my new quarters with an arm over Radek's shoulder.
I, Yuriy Obov, lover of Irina, former Spetnaz Captain of the Kazakh army, big brother of my conscripts and recruits, slave of Jonathan Martin, am now the farm manager of my Master's estates, lover of Radek, with more than a hundred slaves to command in my Master' s name.
Not since I stood in my jeep and led my men into battle in Pamir foothills have I been so happy. I have met both success and failure, two impostors who live in the same tent. I have tried not making friends of either. The first will lead you down the path of selfishness, the other down the path of despair.
My Master has told me that he has plans and things to do and that I am to be part of those plans.
I, Yuriy Obov, am my Master's most obedient slave.