Dahran

This is the thirteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex.

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

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:

e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 13 - The Driver

One of the good things I like about the al-Qatim slave market, the nearer of the two in Dahra to the capital city, is that it is usually on a Thursday, the last day of the Dahran week. So a leisurely drive back afterwards to the Palace, albeit of just under two hours, is pleasant and relaxing.

As there was a bit of a crush so to speak coming out of the auction-rooms not all the cars and limousines could drive up to the front door, so I walked over toward the limousine and Faisal, my driver, or more precisely the Bank's permanent driver.

His back was to me as he was polishing an already highly polished chrome mudguard and half-whistling away to himself and I was on top of him before he became aware of my presence.

'Faisal, you're very happy this afternoon. Looking forward to the weekend?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan, I am,' and adding almost as an afterthought, he said, 'I am getting married tomorrow.'

It is curious how we do not attribute other outside lives or activities to those with whom we work, but rather see them in the limited functions of the workplace.

'Faisal, I did not know. No one told me. May I offer you my heartiest congratulations!'

'Thank you, Sir Jonathan,' and he held the door of the car for me to get in.

I usually read the Bank's world-branches' reports as I go to and from work and did not change the habit that day, but when I got back home, I asked Faisal to follow me in to the study. He seemed nervous in the cool air of what essentially was my office in the Palace, a large and comfortable room with my files and cabinets.

'I am sorry, Faisal, I did not know of your wedding. I have not even gotten you a present. When were you going to tell me? Please, sit down.'

'On Sunday, Sir Jonathan, on the way to work.'

Faisal looked decidedly uncomfortable sitting down, particularly when I was on my feet over by the windows.

'And are you not taking a honeymoon?'

I knew all staff from post-boy to general manager had at least twenty five days vacation time per year.

'No, Sir Jonathan, my Kismet and I are saving for a new apartment.'

'Ah. So you will want to live where?'

'That was what I was going to talk to you about on Sunday, Sir Jonathan. The apartments we are looking at are near the port.'

There was something at the back of my mind about the Sheikdom paying half the price of an apartment to a newly married couple.

'So you would not then be able to live here at the Palace anymore during the week?'

'No, Sir Jonathan, that is the problem. I was going to tell you, but did not know how to.'

The driver had an apartment here at the Palace among the overseers and also had a body slave, one of the Chechens, to look after him and it. The arrangement had clearly not affected his main sexual orientation.

'Well, first and foremost, Faisal, you are on holidays for the next fortnight, plus a booking into a hotel in Bahrain for yourself and Kismet. That will be a wedding present from the Bank.'

Faisal made, as if to get up or interrupt, but I waved him back down into his seat.

'And the apartments that you are looking at, I presume you mean that Kismet is looking at,' and we both laughed

'How much do they cost?'

Faisal looked at me, swallowed and said the price, which came out about one hundred and eighty thousand euro.

'And the government gives how much to the newly weds?'

'Half the price, Sir Jonathan.'

Ah!, I thought to myself, there was indeed a government subvention.

'So from your savings you must pay the other half?

'We are arranging a mortgage, Sir Jonathan, and it is the custom here Dahra at weddings that the guests give little envelopes to the bride and groom. So that will also help.'

A rather Sicilian way of doing things, I thought as I reflected on godfathers and crime bosses and the like.

I really like Faisal. He had been at the Bank's Villa in the capital city when I first arrived. He had been kind to Yuriy, my first slave and now the head of my stables. I had never known him to miss a day and while I was at the Bank, he was invariably going around Dahra delivering documents and bonds, which could have bought and sold his humble apartment many a time over and beyond.

'You will not be offended then, Faisal, if I too can give you and your bride a cheque. In my country, originally, we gave nice presents; now it has deteriorated into presents from wedding shops. It would be much easier if my present can be a cheque to you and Kismet.'

'Please, Sir Jonathan, that is not necessary at all.'

I again waved him back into his seat as he was again getting up and sitting down at my desk, I drew him a cheque for the other half of the price of his apartment.

When he saw the figure, he burst into tears and just kept his chin on his chest. When he had composed himself, he merely said, rather hoarsely, 'Thank you, Sir Jonathan, on behalf of Kismet and myself. Thank you.'

'Faisal. That's the wedding present out of the way. Now what do we do about a driver from Sunday onwards?'

Faisal seemed to be thinking to himself and finally said, 'I was going to speak next with Mr. Ahlson about that, Sir Jonathan, because I may know someone.'

'Yes?'

'He is my eldest brother's third son.'

'Your nephew?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan?'

'And apart from being your nephew, why would you recommend him?'

'He drives a taxi-cab in the capital city, Sir Jonathan, and he might enjoy living here at the Lime Palace as I have done.'

Faisal must have seen a question mark somewhere on my brow, because he continued, 'he is not likely to marry, Sir Jonathan,' and he looked at the floor, as if he had said too much already.

'In simple language, Faisal, are you saying that he does not like women and prefers men?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan.'

I let silence descend and settle in the study.

Finally, I decided and said, 'What's your nephew's name?'

'Faisal, Sir Jonathan, like myself. He was named after me.'

'Well ask Faisal to come and see me tomorrow afternoon, if he is interested in the job and in living here at the Lime Palace in your apartment.'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan.'

'And one last thing, Faisal, my gift to you is not just for your wedding, it is for your loyalty to me since I have been here and your discretion about the Lime Palace, which is home -- a safe haven - to all of those of us who live here.'

'I understand, Sir Jonathan, you will always command my total loyalty'.

When Faisal had gone, I called Gustav Ahlson and filled him in and had him make a note of the hotel and airline booking for the betrothed couple to Bahrain. When asked what could Faisal do at the Bank if not driving, Gustav said there would be no problem in fitting him into another function.

'And if this new Faisal is okay?' I asked.

'Then, hire him, Jonathan, hire him.'

Gustav was always to the point, if anything.

'Yes, General Manager, sir'.

As I walked out into the courtyard, I happened to bump into Dumi, the stables manager, as he headed for the slaves' quarters and I told him he would have three new water-guys coming that evening, `perhaps not the best, but trustfully they will do.'

'Master, Yuriy and I asked for three slaves on Monday and by Thursday, we have them. What more can I ask for?' he said with a smile.

That was one of the things I liked about Dumi, his total ability to accept the reality of situations.

'Have you six buddies who are free to take them in hand this evening?

'No problem, Master. I'll get six to be standing by immediately.'

'Dumi, are you and Rolf happy?' Rolf my gym-Master is his buddy.

Dumi did not even reply, but just curled one index finger in the other and held them up for me to see.

'Like that, eh Dumi?'

'Like that, Master.'

It must have been a bit daunting for the three new slaves to arrive just as almost six hundred slaves were assembling for their evening meal in the courtyard of the Lime Palace. But Dumi was to hand to sign receipt for the three and their files and the three were brought in to be shit, shaved, showered, douched and given a haircut. Their medicals would wait until the morning.

As the evening meal finished, the three were brought out and given two slave-biscuits each, together with a bowl of vegetable soup, which they devoured and as much water as they wanted to drink. The three ate as I attended to various requests from some of the slaves, mainly that evening to change buddies as their thirty days with their existing buddies were up.

I don't think the three new slaves had actually seen me sitting to the back of the veranda, so there was something of a shock on the faces of Gary and Donnie when they saw who their new Master was. The third slave -- the carrot-head - had not really seen me I thought at the auction rooms.

Though it was not actually necessary for the buddy slaves of new arrivals to make a full obeisance, they did so in order that the new arrivals would know what to do, which in fact the three newbies did well, if a little awkwardly and then just stayed kneeling before me.

Looking at Gary, who looked rather well out of the strained atmosphere of the auction rooms and who like the others just had his hands resting on his thighs, his cock at half-mast, neither fully erect nor fully flaccid, I said 'well, are you satisfied?'

'You've bought the three of us, sir?'

'Yes. And the correct title here is Master. I am the Master of the Lime Palace.'

'Thank you, Master,' he replied and looking at each of the others, with a jerk of the head he indicated that they should reply likewise, which they did.

'So you're the ringleader here, Gary, are you? You invite your pals on holiday, get yourself and them kidnapped and now enslaved. Have I missed out on anything?'

He shook his head and said, 'No, Master.'

At that, Donnie started to cry quietly to himself, which I chose to ignore and Justin moved toward him to comfort him.

'Over the next thirty days, you will be instructed by your two buddies who have been assigned to each of you, how to do your duties here on the farm. A number of these will be strange to you. Simply do them immediately and without question. In time, things will become clearer to you.'

'You will also be given part of the retraining programme tomorrow and shown what punishments you can expect for disobedience. You will be trained to accept my authority and that of my overseers and what I shall be looking for at the end of all of this is your absolutely total submission to me as your Master and your total loyalty to me as your owner. Any questions you have will be answered by your buddies as your training gets underway.'

'One other thing, I usually take a slave to bed each night. Which of you wants to be the first?'

Justin went white. Donnie's tears just continued to run down his cheeks.

'Gary, I think you're it. Wouldn't you say?'

I could see his Adam's apple jump and he wet his lips as he replied very quietly, 'Yes, Master.'

Without any of the three new slaves having been tested for diseases, none of them would have penetrative sex from their buddies that evening and in Arabic, I reminded the buddies of just that. Dismissing Gary's two buddies, I beckoned Gary to follow me to my bedroom suite. Komil my personal slave padded in behind us.

'Have you ever had sex with a man, Gary.'

'No, Master, definitely not.'

'Not even a bit of groping in the showers, or army ass-grabbing when getting into your kit.'

'A little bit of horseplay, Master, but nothing serious.'

'How long do you think you can protect those two pals of yours? Is that what you were up to?'

And here again, I was struck by the rapid assessment that Gary was able to give of a situation.

'As long as you allow me to, Master.'

'Are you saying that you are giving me here and now your total obedience and loyalty?'

'If that loyalty to you, sir, will allow me protect my friends, yes, Master.'

'And if having my protection, they have no longer need your own?'

'Then, Master, I will do anything you want of me, day or night.'

And he let 'night' float on the warm air of the bedroom.

'The dealer tells me you have a lot of spunk and can shoot quite a distance.'

At that comment, Gary reddened around the gills, but he did reply 'Yes, Master.'

'Come into the shower area and show me.'

Without a second hesitation, Gary followed me into the shower. I crossed my arms, stood back and looked at his now trimmed crotch area. Slowly, his right hand went down to his ever-erect cock and he started to masturbate.

Knowing how difficult it can be for anyone to perform such a private act on demand, I was somewhat surprise that at thirty or so strokes into his jerking off, the flood reaction started which every man knows as unstoppable and Gary the army squaddie's ejaculations hit the walls of the shower in five or six sizeable hits. He stopped and his chest was heaving.

'Take a good shower, clean yourself up and come into bed for the good bit,' and I put a towel on a hook beside the shower.

Five minutes later Gary was lying beside me on the bed.

'Have you ever kissed a guy, Gary?

'No, Master.'

'Do you want to give it a try?'

He swallowed hard and bringing his face close to mine, closed his eyes, his sealed lips touched my lips and pulled away quickly, as if he had been burned.

'Gary, do you call that a goodnight kiss? If so, you are going to have to learn a lot here at the Lime Palace. Now go to sleep. You've had enough excitement for one day.'

He looked thoroughly confused.

'You mean, Master...you mean you're not going to...?' -- the question petered out.

'Don't ask half questions, Gary. Say what you want to say again fully and clearly.'

'Master, are you not going to fuck me?'

'No, not tonight. Only when you are ready for it. I said, every night I take a slave to bed. That does not mean that every night I fuck a slave, many nights I do. But I have never yet taken a slave who does not know even how to kiss. I think I am going to have you practice kissing on Donnie and Justie whichever you find the sexier.'

'Master, I really don't understand.'

'Good. That's what your buddies will explain to you over the next days. Now, spoon up in front of me. I sleep in the middle and Komil will spoon up behind me. And having come as much as did just now in the shower, I would say you will sleep well. Now, go to sleep.'

Within two minutes Gary, the former squaddie, after his ejaculations in the shower, was breathing deeply in quiet sleep and Komil had come up behind me, licked my neck a little bit and warmly spooned me from behind.

I drifted off to sleep thinking that none of my slaves had ever given me their submission and loyalty so quickly and freely as Gary and I wondered how many people, freemen or slaves, had such a good and loyal friend as he was to his two pals.

The following morning a blue cab pulled into the courtyard and the driver got out to be met by the Chechen slave attendant who looked after Faisal, my driver and whom I had on standby for the arrival of his nephew. His instructions were to show this younger Faisal round the apartment that was allocated to the Bank's driver and then to have him brought in to see me.

To be honest, when introduced to him, I could not see a family resemblance, but as the young Faisal was not sporting a moustache or any facial hair, unlike the older Faisal's military style one, I could be forgiven.

I do not normally conduct interviews for paid personnel and had not done so since the recruiting of the medical staff. I had deeply regretted doing it in the case of the eye-doctor, though if the truth be told, at the end of the day, my hiring of Nacho Cuesta was inspired, even if I say so myself.

Faisal, the nephew cab-driver, was dressed in a western style shirt and pants, which in a way matched his lack of facial hair.

I had thought about this interview and had a couple of cards up my sleeve, if they were required.

What first impressed me was that Faisal's handshake was firm and it was dry, apart from the rising heat of the day. Secondly, he was reasonably dressed and groomed for an interview. Thirdly, he had been on time and lastly, he had presented me with a one page résumé of his career to-date.

As far as I could make out, he had finished the equivalent of the local high-school, ten years previously, but not with any great results. He had worked part-time in a number of jobs for three years, then as a second night-time driver on a cab doing the airport-city run for two years and for the past five, he was the owner of his own cab.

'Why, Faisal, do you want to work for me as a driver?'

'My uncle, sir, always speaks well of the Bank and of you, sir. And he says it is a good job.'

'But you are self-employed, your own boss, Faisal. You do what you want, when you want.'

`Sir, I work twelve hours a day driving in the capital city. My cab is last year's model and I must work at least seventy hours a week, to pay myself, make the repayments -- though they are small - on the cab and pay something each week to my parents.'

'How would this job be better for you in say five years' time?'

'I would have had a constant wage, no outlay on an apartment, or to my parents for staying at home. I could save some money.'

'Are you gay, Faisal?'

Such a question would never be allowed in a number of European countries. But here I asked it outright to see the reaction.

He put his chin up and said, 'yes sir, I am.'

'How do you live as a gay in Dahra, which is not particularly gay?'

'Very discretely, sir.'

Dahra, in its traditions, customs and public morals, I knew, did not allow public demonstration of sex between two men and was in the wrong position both geographically and historically for any form of deviation from the norm. Being on the Gulf between and surrounded by more traditional States, the erotic interest between men is totally private outside the family structure, though with family slaves it is allowed, but not vaunted abroad and the erotic interest in women is part of the general culture of males, but in both city and hinterland country limited to married bedrooms.

Polygamy with up to four wives for Dahra is common. The Sheik himself had shrewdly married a wife from each of the four principal tribes. Additionally, I had heard that in the harem of his Palace, where the female members of his family and the children lived, there were allegedly and I say allegedly, over fifty concubines forming alliances with the minor villages and towns.

But as for gay sex, that was generally taboo between free Dahrans.

'Do you have a regular partner?' I asked Faisal outright.

'No, Sir.'

'Are you clean and negative?'

His answer was quick, so it was clear that he knew what I was talking about.

'Yes, sir, I am clean and I am negative.'

'Okay, Faisal. It's getting very warm. Let's go for a swim.'

'I haven't brought any swimming trunks, sir.'

I looked at him.

'Will that bother you?'

He swallowed and said 'no, sir.'

We walked across the veranda and into the pool area. It was too early for the slaves to be there. They would have been doing either some indoor work on account of the heat outside, or be in English, or Arabic classes.

However, Rolf the gym Master was there as was Vitali, my own masseur, as I had previously instructed. Also to hand, though now Aziz's slaves, were Jiri and Ali, being the swimming pool slaves as I termed them, who all made a full obeisance.

Faisal looked at the naked four, whom I must admit looked very fit and well, with nice all-over tans and a lean and rangy look about them and I saw him swallowing hard again.

I stripped off and Faisal followed suit. He had a lighter band of flesh around his waist and obviously did not sunbathe that frequently in the nude, but he looked quite fit for a non-athlete.

'Rolf, will you pace us for a couple of lengths in the pool.'

'I don't swim very well, Sir Jonathan,' Faisal said.

'Nor I, Faisal, so don't worry. Rolf will do two lengths for every one we do.'

Faisal started to do his own version of a crawl, which was a lot of muscle power, but little technique. I contented myself with a calm breaststroke just to be able to see when Faisal exhausted himself.

Rolf was off like a dolphin and by the time Faisal and I had done four lengths, Rolf had complete twelve and was resting his chin of the side of the pool, grinning like a Cheshire cat, at my feeble efforts.

'Master, you need to do a lot more swimming.'

'What I need now, Rolf, is a good massage,' I got out of the pool.

'Faisal, get up on that other table and Jiri and Ali will look after your massage, while Vitali gives me one.'

Oh, what devious creatures we are at times!

Jiri, who had done some massage techniques with Vitali, was flexing his fingers in and out like a concert pianist before a recital. Ali was just smiling in the direction of Faisal.

I went up on my massage table and was soon seeing fleecy clouds as Vitali undid one by one my body's totality of Gordian knots after a tough week at the Bank and used one of his elbows mercilessly down every single lumbar joint on my spine.

I was trying to keep an open eye on Faisal to see if Jiri and Ali were following their instructions. He was lying on his back and they were putting oil on his body. His first groan was barely audible, but there it was. Good man, Jiri! Or should that have been, `good man, Ali!'

Vitali had been primed to let me know of anything interesting happening on the table next to me, when, not if, it arose, particularly in the perpendicular. So I just closed my eyes and drifted off into space and Vitali's fingers worked their magic.

Various stifled groans came from time to time from the table to my left and at one point when I opened my eyes, all I could see were Jiri's hips over Faisal's head as he massaged oil into Faisal's upper body. But that surely was not enough to cause the stifled groans. I did not wish to appear impolite and gawk at what Ali might be doing south of the equator.

Then Vitali whispered in my ear with half a chuckle, 'flagpole waving in the air, Master.'

Then I heard Jiri telling Faisal to turn over and there was quiet as oil was massaged into his back.

I said, 'that's enough for me. I'm going into the sauna. Vitali help Jiri and Ali. Faisal's leg muscles must be really tired after all his driving this week. Come into the sauna, Faisal when they finished with you.'

And I left my team to concentrate on the fly who was now firmly in the spider's web.

Vitali took over the massage of Faisal's upper back as instructed and the other two went to work on his legs, particularly the soles of his feet, between his toes, the back of knees and the inner thighs right up to the cleft with his rounded buttocks.

Vitali told me later that Faisal started to whimper with pleasure after about three minutes and could not contain his groans. These became incessant then Jiri slipped a hand between Faisal's thighs, cupped his balls and raised his buttocks up, so that Ali's main target could be revealed as a tight, but not too virginal, slightly wrinkled, pale brown butt hole, which Ali proceeded to tongue as he only knew how.

Though Faisal may have been all of twenty eight, he was no match for a master in the science of rimming such as Ali and as he shot the first of a number of loads, he opened his mouth to gasp, only to find that Vitali's member was erect and now going into his mouth.

Jiri's hands were meantime keeping unrelenting touches to Faisal's circumcised glans and to the sensitive fraenulum attached to its head. Jiri's thumb technique of circular motion on the fraenulum, if you have never experienced it, well, it simply cannot be described in mere mortal words. I have tried at times to verbalise Jiri's touches and words such as out of this world, heavenly, divine, come close to describing the sensations, which only Jiri can provoke and produce.

As Faisal shot his eight or ninth strand of cum onto the brown leather of the massage table, Vitali took mercy on his throat, which had been receiving all of Vitali's thin and long inches. A blast of Vitali's semen onto the back of Faisal's throat produced the final strangled cry of pleasure.

Before Faisal was allowed up off the table, Jiri applied some cream to his butt hole, 'to take away any pain' he had been instructed to say, but with his fingers he worked the cream in and around the sphincter muscle.

'The Master is waiting for you in the sauna, Faisal. Better not keep him waiting too long,' Vitali said.

Faisal made it to the door of the sauna unsteadily, but unaided. I had the sauna set to 'low' so it was just nice and warm but certainly not hot.

'Ah, there you are, Faisal. I though you had gotten lost. How did you like the second part of the interview with my slaves?'

Fair dues to him, he made a valiant effort to reply, but was not very coherently. One of the great things about a sauna, is that nobody has any place to pin their medals. You are as simply you are, or not at all.

'Over you come here, Faisal and lie up on this towel on your stomach and let the heat do its work. The heat is just nice and not at all hot. Did Vitali work all those knots out of your system? How was Jiri on your legs? And don't tell me, I'll bet that Ali worked a little of his magic on you as well.'

Faisal was croaking his replies, as he lay down on the towel. His member was flaccid, but the heat of the sauna was keeping its girth at a nice thickness.

'So, Faisal, do you think you would like to work for me as my driver?'

'Yes, sir'.

'And be available to me at all hours, even at weekends?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Like now, Faisal?' and I patted his perspiring buttocks.

'Now, sir?'

'Yes, Faisal, now.'

'Yes, sir, but I don't think I could manage anything for a while.'

'Well, then why don't you just relax and let me try and do something for you.'

'Yes, sir, anything you like.'

I rode Faisal, the new driver, for over twenty minutes. The warmth of the sauna did not allow for more and the perspiration running off me was finally what obliged me to stop. He was no virgin, but on the other had, he had not been used a lot.

I targeted my penetrating attacks solely and utterly on his prostate, not attempting to deep penetrate him, but rather just hit it as many times as I could on the way in as indeed, on the way out.

His buttock rose to meet my final minutes when his groans filled the sauna and I could see a small pool of sweat in the middle of his back. I do not know how many further times he shot, because he was on a towel and the towel absorbed his ejaculations.

When I finished and was utterly spent myself, I asked him if he was okay.

'Yes, sir. Definitely, sir.'

'Do you still want the job as my driver starting tomorrow?'

'Yes, sir. Indeed.'

'Have you any questions you would like to ask?'

'Does this, sir,' and he swallowed hard, 'does this form part of my regular duties?'

'No, Faisal, only when you have performed your regular duties, exceptionally well. Your uncle may or may not have informed you, but you will have your own slave here of your own choosing, to look after you and your apartment. And he will form part of your regular duties. Do you understand? You met the slave who looked after your uncle. If you wish, he will be your slave. If not, another will be found for you.'

Our sauna finished quickly after that, or maybe it was that the sauna had finished us both off. Without appearing to be in a hurry, Faisal in fact was in one, as he had to get back to the capital city for the wedding of his uncle. On his departure, I wished him an enjoyable evening at his uncle's wedding and I would see him first thing in the morning.

The following morning, it was in a way a shame to miss the older Faisal, but the younger Faisal looked resplendent in his driver's uniform.

As I flicked away an imaginary speck of dust from the collar of his shirt, I said, 'Welcome, Faisal to the Lime Palace, my home and from now on, your home.'

He smiled a much relaxed smile and said, 'Thank you, Sir Jonathan.'

I never bedded Faisal after that one experience with him. He chose another one of the Chechens as his apartment slave and by all accounts they pleasured each other, as far as was reported to me by the Chechen, long and hard into the Dahran nights.

End of Chapter 13