This is the eighteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex.
Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, submission, gay, sex
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The Dahran Way
Chapter 18 The importance of inevitability
Bryce Sands
Complacency is the greatest danger in any business, art or science. In any field of endeavour, when what we have done has worked for us, has got us by and makes us believe that all we have to do to make progress is to do the same again, can be dangerous and can lead to smug satisfaction.
The other half of my American team of trainers is Bryce Sands, who had been a garage hand in Texas. Without fear of contradiction, I can say that job for him would have been a wasted life.
Bryce is a natural in the management and training of men -- patient, pushing, encouraging and praising. And unlike the Texan stereotype, he is so softly spoken that, at times, you have to strain your ears to hear him. But let him see a slave not trying his utmost and that slave soon finds there is a hand of Texan steel inside the soft glove of velvet.
Bryce Sands leads the team of trainers in the fourth compound and it was in this compound that Bozo Kalik, the Serbian slave, for the first time came truly face to face with himself and his attitude towards his new status of slavedom.
While the first compounds are to get the slaves to comply with some procedures, which they have done to a greater or lesser degree, it is very rare for a slave to actually `break' during the first techniques, to collapse at the feet of a trainer and beg for mercy, for the technique to stop, or for the butt-plugs to be removed. This may and does, happen more often in the third compound.
However, it is the fourth compound that each of the slaves is confronted individually and very quietly, that what has been done to date has not been done sufficiently quickly or with sufficient effort and that from now on it is up to the slave to prove to the trainer that they are performing in top gear and with maximum effort.
Bozo Kalik had come through the first procedures, neither at the top nor at the bottom of his group. Bryce Sands noticed, as a good trainer will, that Bozo hated more and more the insertion of the butt-plug, which in the fourth compound is all of five centimetres diameter. That is very easily said but when over six centimetres of butt-plug is lodged firmly in an anus, it is difficult enough to walk without waddling along and when exercises such as press-ups and, particularly, sit-ups are being performed, the presence of any butt-plug let alone one of this width is sorely felt.
Normally, the trainer allows the slave to improve on times and does not interfere when the exercises are being genuinely attempted and personal bests achieved somewhere along the line.
Bryce felt that Bozo Kalik was not pushing himself.
`Bozo, you are not trying hard enough.'
`Yes, sir.'
`I want you to do this simple exercise.'
`Yes, sir.'
Bryce pointed out a line of six-inch high rocks some thirty feet in length.
`Jump from one side to the other side over and then back again. Like this. It is a simple exercise.'
Bryce did two sample jumps over and back. I noticed that Bryce had the slave bend over and he pulled out the butt-plug and dropped it in the butt-plug bucket.
`Wait a moment,' he said to the Serbian slave and took out of the bucket another butt-plug of the same width and some ten centimetres in length, but instead of being a smooth sided one, this one had ridges and indentations along its sides.
Before the slave's eyes, Bryce coated it liberally with the Aloe milk-sap as a lubricant and quite literally screwed it up and into Bozo's complaining and resisting arsehole. The slave looked even more decidedly uncomfortable with his new type of butt-plug logged firmly in his hole.
`Now, Bozo, let me see you do the exercise.'
Bozo started on what looked for all the world like bunny jumps from one side of the six-inch high rocks to the other and then back again. The first set of jumps was done in all of twenty nine seconds. Bryce showed Bozo his digital stopwatch with the number of seconds clearly displayed on it. The slave's sweating face took in the figures, not quite knowing their significance and was told to repeat the jumps.
While Bozo Kalik was doing his second run of bunny hops, Bryce walked over to the compound wall and took down one of the three-foot camel-canes, as if prescient of what was about to happen.
Bozo's second run was thirty seconds -- one second more than the previous time. Bryce shook his head and with two fingers on the slave's shoulder indicated to the slave to bend over and to clutch the back of his knees. Bozo's body was pouring sweat as only a body can in the Dahran heat after exercise.
Bryce stood back two paces, took the measure of the bent-over slave and delivered three strokes of the camel-cane over his taut buttocks. The swish of the cane was only intercalated with the expelling of air out of the slave's lungs, then a groan and then a cry of pain. As Aziz, my head of household at the Lime Palace had once said, it was a putting of gasoline in the slave's tank.
`Now, Bozo, let's try the exercise again.'
Bozo was receiving the one-to-one attention of Bryce Sands, something he could well do without if he wanted to avoid pain and punishment.
Bozo did his jumps in twenty eight seconds and then immediately again, which he performed in twenty nine. For getting a slower time, the fourth time round, he was again bent over and a further three strokes delivered.
In the space of half an hour, the slave received a total of thirty three strokes of the camel-cane. His buttocks were a mass of welts. Tears had started to come down his cheeks at some stage, whether out of pain, or out of frustration. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with the effort of every continuing set of jumps, his arms clutching the back of his knees were beginning to shake and then it was over. He sank to his knees after the last three strokes and crawled over to his trainer and kissed his feet, his body convulsing with quiet sobs.
Bryce crouched down and raised the slave's chin to look him in the face. He shook his head and the slave again put his forehead in the sand at Bryce's feet, his body shaking, waiting his overseer's next command and he wept.
Bryce walked over to the compound wall, replaced the camel-cane. There was nothing hurried in his movements. The slave had not moved. It was the first chink and break in the armoured personality of Bozo Kalik, the Serbian slave.
When Bryce returned, he told the Bozo to get up and follow him to the training table in the centre of the compound.
Bryce indicated to Bozo Kalik to kneel up on the table. The other four slaves by this time had finished their exercises and were awaiting the next command of their overseer, which seemed to be slow in coming. In the meantime, their eyes were riveted on the Serbian slave kneeling on the table with his backside high in the air, his hairless crack wide open to the breeze.
Bryce Sands walked around to the side of the table where the slave's head was overhanging the table, his hands clutching the table's edge. Bryce took two Velcro straps from under the table and tightened them around the slave's wrists.
Bryce then, twisting and twisting, took out the ribbed butt-plug, washed it in the bucket of water and held it up to the slave's lips for the slave to kiss, the symbol of his training. It was placed beside his restrained right hand well within his line of vision.
Bryce then walked round to the slave's spread legs and Velcroed his knees two feet apart. The slave was now at the total mercy of an overseer, who could do anything physical he liked to the slave.
Bryce took a large jar of Aloe milk-sap , as much for its anaesthetic as for its lubricating properties and started to oil the slave's butt-hole with one finger, then two and finally three fingers. The fact that Bozo Kalik's hole had been well and truly prepared by the butt-plug over the previous eighteen days meant that there was very little resistance from the sphincter muscles.
The slave was groaning and crying out in the latter stages while this unwelcome intrusion of his private orifice was taking place. The other slaves were are various stages of erection on seeing the Serb being broken.
But Bozo Kalik's groans stopped when Bryce's fingering stopped and he half-looked over his shoulder, tears of humiliation in his eyes. His groans were replaced by a hoarse `Noooooo!' when he saw Bryce immerse his forearm up to the elbow in the Aloe milk-sap and realised what was about to happen.
The other slaves were silent as Bryce slipped his coned-fingers in the Serbian slave's hole and pressed in. There was some resistance at the third knuckle, but with a firm thrust against a butt-hole, which had nowhere to go, no way of clenching against the intruding well-lubricated hand and no strength to operate against the angle of the forearm thrust, first Bryce's wrist and then his forearm was into and up the slave's arsehole.
Bozo Kalik shouted something intelligible, something in pain, something in humiliation. His body shuddered and stream after stream of white cum ejaculated from his straining penis onto the table below.
Bryce withdrew his arm in one swift pullout and the slave screamed and a further stream of ejaculate hit the punishment table. The slave's hole was at least two inches wide and without muscle strength, it was unable to close over and resume its puckered shape. Bryce looked over at the other four wide-eyed slaves viewing his actions. He did not have to say a word as he wiped his forearm clean of the Aloe milk-sap and the slave's residual detritus. He released the Velcro restraints with four quick pulls and the slave hesitatingly got to down and stood on the sand.
Bryce pointed to the cum and said `Lick it up.'
The slave complied immediately.
`Obeisance!'
Again, the slave was complying before the word had even been finally pronounced.
Bryce looked over again at the four other slaves. Words were unnecessary.
End of chapter 18
To be continued...