Dahran

The Seventh Desert by Gerry Taylor

This is the fourth chapter (ex twenty two) of a novel about present-day slavery and gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, 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.

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Chapter 4 -- The unloading of cargo

Al-Qatim's cargo delivery centre was a large rectangular brick building. Its windowless walls were set in intricate geometric designs attesting to the building's venerable age. Its only modern feature on the outside was the single camera-flanked steel gate. At the other end, on ground level, a closed corridor joined it to the more recently erected holding and auction hall complex. This was where slaves who had completed basic training were taken over to be presented to clients. On the first floor, a corridor connected the building to the owner's office. It was there that Ahmed al-Atti and I strolled over to see delivery being made of the former mercenaries.

We arrived in an observation suite overlooking a spacious hall. Opposite from us, at the far end of the ground floor, I could make out the inside of the gate. The visible equipment consisted of a number of tables below us, and along the side walls, two seemingly endless arrays of free standing steel frames. The delivery of forty two items in one shipment was obviously not going to unduly inconvenience this establishment.

On our level, comfortable seats and a table with refreshments awaited us. Through thick glass panes, we could watch the comings and goings below. Excellent sight. Very muted sound.

I had not seen the former private contractor slaves after the strange twist of fate in which I had acquired them. Ahmed al-Atti, at the al-Qatim centre, was more than agreeable to oblige in penning them for the time needed for their medical tests and basic training.

Ahmed and I were discussing my instructions concerning the former mercenaries' circumcision and half-castration.

'Once their medical tests have been completed, I shall engage the services of Dr. Haniff for a day, Sir Jonathan.'

'For a day?' I had blurted out.

For some reason, I had visions of extensive surgery and recovery times.

'Not more than a day will be needed for forty-two slaves' Ahmed replied. `It is quite literally over, Sir Jonathan, in two minutes. It is all in the preparation, and afterwards, the putting in the automatic sutures and applying styptic powder which takes the time. The slave I can assure you, no matter how violent he is, is very quiet after even a half-gelding operation.'

'When I saw it done previously, it is not unduly painful for the slave.'

'Not really, Sir Jonathan. Dr. Haniff usually has some Novocain sprayed on as the slave comes in. Most of the slaves think it is a deodorant or a delousing agent being put on their genitals. We can omit the Novocain, if you wish. It would make the slave remember the day very well. They are then rested for a day.'

'I think, Ahmed, the slaves will remember the day. Have Dr. Haniff use the Novocain. There is something else. I want all these new slaves fully circumcised. A full periah, I think is what it is called. Those slaves who have a partial covering of their glans with a milah circumcision, I want that converted into a full high and tight as our American cousins say; no prepuce left at all.'

'Your wish is my command, Sir Jonathan. And the fraenulum?'

'That is to be cut as well. I want these slaves to know that I have the power of a Master over them and that they can see it in their own bodies and in those of their companions every single day. Also get rid of body jewellery or rings of any sort.'

'Indeed, Sir Jonathan, that is always the case and it is a wise thought for a Master.'

'One other thing, Ahmed, I am sending you a special depilatory cream. Apply it at one-week intervals over all the body, but not on the hair of the head, the arm-pits or the bush of pubic hair. Everything else, I want cleared off.'

'A prudent decision, Sir Jonathan. The more naked a slave is the more he realises his slavedom.'

At that moment, the enormous gates slid apart, revealing a stacker carrying a shipping container of the standard twenty foot long, eight foot broad variety. The telescopic boom was lowered and smoothly deposited its cargo on the floor. The vehicle drove out, and returned immediately with a second container in its grip, which was placed next to the first. This was repeated again with container number three. The truck drove out again. On the signal of some unseen control panel, the steel gates soundlessly slid shut.

Now the centre's employees, who all seemed to have donned rubber boots, disposable gloves, and surgical masks for this occasion, opened the first container. I caught a glimpse of two figures hunkered down facing each other, the first in two rows. One captured mercenary was unhooked from the wall behind him, lifted to his feet and led out. His clothing was military type camouflage issue. A heavy padded blindfold covered his eyes. He wore shackles on this ankles and his wrists were chained together behind his back.

'They have been held in a disused factory until today,' Ahmed commented by my side.

Still unseeing, the captive was led through the hall to one of the steel frames, where Ahmed al-Atti's minions linked his ankles to the base of the posts, pulling them as far apart as the fetters would allow. Next, an Overseer used a stun gun to unceremoniously incapacitate him with an electric discharge.

It's only a mild charge, sufficient to control the slave for a couple of minutes,' Ahmed continued as he explained the procedure. It does no harm to your property, Sir Jonathan, none at all.'

The slave's body convulsed and slumped into the hands of his handlers, who undid the wrist chain, hauled up each of his arms, and fastened them to the upper corners of the frame. Only then did a handler unbuckle and pull off the blindfold, allowing the new arrival to take in his surroundings. The new slave blinked in the light of the centre which was not all that bright, but even after some days, I was sure that it was more than bright enough for him. One by one, more former mercenaries ended up in the same X shape. Most of them seemed to be Caucasian. A number were Afro-Americans and one or two from the distance of the observation room looked as if they were Filipino.

With fourteen bodies placed in frames, the first container was empty, and the handlers proceeded to unload container number two. At first several of my new possessions appeared to be speaking to or shouting at the handlers, though these acted as unconcerned as if they could hear no more than Ahmed and I in our observation post. This was soon put to an end, however, as one Overseer passed along the line and silenced each by inserting a gag which was velcroed at the back of the slave's head. These had the additional advantage of an outside ring on the front, which was connected to a chain hanging down from the centre of the frame. The slaves were now not only unable to move -- though I saw many of them pull and jerk at their bonds as best they could -- they were also forced to hold their heads high and out of the way, and could be handled closely without the risk of being bitten. Taking advantage this convenient immobility, something was done to the slaves' ears which I could not quite make out.

Ahmed remarked, 'Untrained slaves wear earplugs until we teach them their Arabic and English commands. Sometimes also later on between training sessions. It will, when they are granted their hearing again, help them concentrate on what is relevant -- instructions from their Overseers and owners.'

Even I was caught by surprise as one after another of the new slaves had every item of cloth cut off his body with small shears. It was a statement to the effect that clothes were not going to be an issue from now on. What clothes they were wearing were soon cut to ribbons and thrown in a skip. Cutting off the clothes I saw also meant that there was no need to undo the wrist and ankle cuffs. This was obviously a procedure in which the slave centre had a lot of practice.

When all forty two were completely naked, an Overseer came in with a bolt cutter and started going over to slaves on whom their immediate Supervisors had spotted either nipple rings, earrings, or in two cases, penis rings. All the rings were placed on a dish as the Overseer with the bolt cutters went along.

`These rings are now your property, Master, and will be given to you,' Ahmed quietly mentioned to me, and I saw a Supervisor leave the area and come up to us in the observation room.

On the floor below us, each slave was now having a blood and urine sample taken.

'What other procedures will be applied today? GPS bracelets?'

'Bracelets and slave identification number tattoos cannot be put on before the tests are done, and the slave has been found free from serious communicable disease.'

'Very good business policy, Ahmed.'

'Not only that, Sir Jonathan, it's a legal requirement, and a very necessary one. All our slaves are kept in separate cells. Initially for reasons of quarantine, but also to prevent them from attacking or harming each other, and to preserve their anal virginity, if such is the case, for our customers.'

'That's very obliging of you, Ahmed, but these are no luxury items. I will use them for the opal mine. Keep them separated by all means, but don't worry too much about keeping them unmarked and intact. I would guess that they have more scars between them than all my other slaves taken together. You can use canes, butt-plugs, whatever meets the case.'

'As you wish, Sir Jonathan. A moment, please.'

He picked up a phone and pressed a single key. I watched one of the Overseers on the ground floor take the call, but he did not even look up in our direction during Ahmed's brief instruction. I concluded that the observation room's windowpanes were made of one-way glass.

Supervisors swiftly passed along the two facing lines of twenty one slaves, unclipping and taking out the gags. Relieved from the strain on their neck muscles, the slaves moved their heads back and forth, or opened and closed their freed jaws, some could be seen but not heard shouting out abuse. The respite was brief, however, for now Ahmed's employees began working their way down the lines giving each slave, one by one, thirty strokes of a three-foot cane

`It concentrates their minds wonderfully on their training over the immediate next few days' was the comment made sotto voce by the Supervisor who had brought up the tray of rings.

I looked at the Supervisor and thought that I recognised him from al-Mera, the other slave centre. When I queried him, he said his Master had sent up extra staff to assist Ahmed al-Atti. I wondered to myself what other joint-enterprises were operated by the two auction-houses and slave centres?

The unsuccessful invaders stood spread-eagled in their frames, watching as their comrades across the hall and next to them jerked under the impact of the blows. Some started a futile struggle against their bonds again, as the handlers wielding the canes moved down the line in their direction. Others had their eyes closed, attempting in vain to shut out the approach of the inevitable.

What struck me was the insouciant and unconcerned attitude of those in charge of the operation. They were not excited or exhilarated at meting out punishment on backs which saw weals rise, and burst flesh appear, rivulets of blood from well-aimed blows of the cane. While I have used the three-foot cane myself in training slaves, I have never thought that it could be used so efficiently or with such force. Normally, I attributed such force to the four- and five-foot canes which are vicious in the right hands. Nor did the trainers pay any attention to the cries of those who had powdered styptic applied after their flogging. From our vantage point, Ahmed and I could see faces contorted with pain. We heard nothing.

After the unfortunate soldiers of fortune had been shocked by their callous treatment at the hand of the centre's Supervisors, they were given a further surprise. By operating switches on the wall, the handlers caused the frames of those who had received their beating to tilt. Their bodies were slowly pulled forward and down, until they came to hang from the wrist chains. The purpose soon became clear, as one after another had a tube inserted into his back orifice. The oblique figures squirmed as the water was turned on. I thought that warm enemas seemed to be considered undue luxury here. A Supervisor passed along the line massaging the bellies of the suspended bodies, seemingly just as deaf to any protesting utterances as the ear-plugged slaves.

When the tubes were pulled out, the ex-mercenaries had no choice but to expel the contents of their bowels onto the very floor they were standing on. At this point, I understood the necessity of the Supervisors' rubber boots, and I was glad that our glass pane did not only shut out sound, but also the smell from the floor below.

Cleaned out twice, each of the forty two was hauled up again to an upright position by a flip of the wall switch. Now all of Ahmed's employees seemed to cluster in one corner beside the empty containers. Only one remained standing next to their charges, holding a hose which soon was put to use in a splendid fire brigade imitation. As the slaves were hosed down, the flood swept over the stained floor, water mixed with blood and faeces disappearing down the row of drains in the centre of the hall.

I noticed that the former mercenaries were subsequently fitted with blindfolds again. Ahmed saw my inquiring glance and explained.

'Blindfolds and earplugs are standard disorientation procedure prior to basic training. Being deprived of stimulation will make their eyes and ears more receptive to orders. Being deprived of movement will make their limbs more ready to stand and kneel as instructed. Initially, untrained slaves are merely given water. A slave is fed the first biscuit after he has learned his first command.'

'What are they being sprayed with now?'

'Disinfectant, Sir Jonathan. They are now ready for the quarantine cells.'

The final accessory for each was again a bit gag but of a different type. This was a flexible bar no thicker than a finger which would not interfere with breathing nor effectively silence the slave. I suspected that its function was simply to let him dig his teeth into something that was not, say, an arm or an ear of a close-by Overseer. Gus Jennings had once mentioned to me that untrained slaves were considered 'wild'. I felt a new admiration for the Dahran professionals about to tame these specimens.

Enveloped in silence and darkness, still wearing the leg chain, wrists now shackled to a waist belt, one by one, slave after slave, was released from his frame, and in the grasp of two Supervisors led out through a side door.

Ahmed al-Atti commented to me at this point `Until each of the slaves' tests are cleared they will be kept in separate cells here at the training centre. Having forty two cells in constant use will put us under a little pressure for space when auction time comes round, but, Sir Jonathan, we will cope.'

I thanked Ahmed al-Atti for his hospitality, and was invited to look in again any time I wished

I returned on several occasions over the following weeks to see what progress the slaves were making. Once they had been half-gelded there was a remarkable change of general attitude over the immediate subsequent days. They had all been half-gelded as per my instruction by Dr. Haniff, the veterinarian. Those among the slaves who had not been fully circumcised with a periah were now so cut. This involved some fifteen of their number. Some eight, who had only a half circumcision to their penis or a meriah, had also been fully cut, and a further twelve of those who had originally been circumcised in full, had the small fraenulum cut which has the function of restraining or pulling down the tip of the penis.

When the effects of the circumcisions wore off after four days, I was told that all would be able to have full erections without any foreskin or fraenulum restraint, but some would still be sensitive for even up to a week. My sense of hygiene in the warm climate of Dahra was pleased with this development. It was not a case, such as at my Palaces, that these slaves would be able to bath or swim or shower twice a day. Where they were going would have them sweating profusely from early morning to late evening and beyond with a reduced number of showers a week.

What struck me forcibly was the professionalism of the trainers in their dealings with the slaves, they might as well have been packing boxes or stacking shelves, as they brought this slave here or that slave there, or applied powered styptic to open wounds to the most hideous cries of those who have never felt its blood-contracting properties before.

A precaution, I was told, was that the number of trainers was increased so no trainer was ever alone with more than two restrained invader slaves during their stay at the centre, despite what at times might have seemed to the unaccustomed eye as a relaxed attitude to the flow of the training programme. But as a Master myself, I take the medievalist approach of an iron fist in a velvet glove, and such was the approach here, cool, calm and collected, and over to the nearest flogging frame when the slave stepped out of line.

My second visit gave me a glimpse how the Dahran slave trade teaches its products physical submissiveness and standard positions. This time, one of Ahmed's assistants accompanied me to the observation suite, where hot tea and a plate of fresh dates awaited me. Fortunately, all my forty two new possessions had passed quarantine successfully. I wondered what fate befell any rejects, but was not keen to inquire.

On the ground floor below, six slaves were being put through a jump exercise session, while the others seemed to have been 'parked' in the steel frames. Each was now wearing a GPS ankle bracelet, marking them as a piece of property for life. The leg chains had been temporarily removed. Their wrists were secured to neck restraints. The bits were still in use, as safety devices, and reminders of the imperative to remain silent unless commanded to speak. For the exercise, a single alligator clamp had been put on the tip of each slave's penis. Although bending each knee alternatively and raising it to hip level is nothing difficult, with an alligator clip so strategically placed, and neck restraints in place, it made for an interesting, if somewhat agonising session for the slaves. As I watched, one of them sank to his knees, wordlessly begging for relief from the nearest Supervisor.

The professionalism of the Supervisor was such that he merely waved the slave to get up, and, when the order was not immediately complied with, applied an electric cattle prod to the slave's backside. From the reaction of the slave, it was clearly at a level not to stun, but to be painful, the discipline device in the Supervisor's hand soon had the slave up and jumping again.

I turned my attention to the sidelines, and found that the slaves there had not simply been 'parked'. They were learning to stand at 'display'. Their wrists had been fastened behind their necks to keep their arms in the appropriate position. Chains linked their ankles to the frame, keeping their legs spread apart as required. An upright position had been secured by linking the waist belt to the posts right and left. Overseers passed up and down the lines, inspecting and correcting posture. If a slave did not put an effort into the position, but merely slumped in his bonds, all it took was a wave of a cattle prod in a meaningful way, and muscles were straining and chests pushed out.

As I watched, two Supervisors approached a standing slave. One of the Supervisors carried a long riding crop. The other unlinked the wrist cuffs from behind. The slave stood rigid and held his arms in place behind his neck. Quickly, he received two sharp blows on his chest and belly. The slave's hands came forward to protect himself. The Supervisor shook his head and barked an order. The slave went back to 'display'. The crop was once more applied, and again the slave failed to keep his hands where they belonged. After the third failed test, his wrists were reattached, and the Supervisors moved on.

The next slave successfully fought his instincts and stood immobile under the crop. He received an approving nod. Upon the trainer's order, he put his arms down and behind his back, where they were reattached by the other Overseer. Having passed the test in the 'display' position, he was allowed to practise standing at 'rest'. The trainers undid the bit and gave him a sip of water. He drank thirstily. They reinserted the bit, gave him a pat on the cheek, and walked to the next frame.

'Are all basic positions learned like this?' I inquired from the dealer's assistant by my side.

'Yes. Neither the crops nor the electric shocks leave any permanent marks, Master. We start with full restraints. A slave who does not actively assume the position is punished with the prod. A slave who remains still under the crop is rewarded with water. A slave who resists is punished with the prod as well, and has to start from the beginning.'

It reminded me of the children's game `snakes and ladders'. One bad mistake of landing on the wrong square and you were effectively back to square one; in a trainer's bad books so to speak.

'And when they have learned to keep their hands in place?'

'They learn to maintain their position without being chained to a frame.'

'Slow and meticulous work.'

'Yes, Master. Teaching them to recognise each command requires patience. Training them to remain in position requires constant supervision and testing. We consider basic posture training to have taken effect once a slave remains as ordered without any restraints whatsoever. For example, when he stands at 'display' while the crop is applied on his nipples or genitals, or remains bent down for rear inspection while the crop is applied on his crack.'

Again the trainers impressed me with their detached attitude, as they went about their work on the floor below, testing and correcting, punishing and rewarding; watchful, exacting, and ever so relentless.

The Supervisor whom I had previously recognised from the other slave centre at al-Mera entered the observation room, carrying a stack of computer printouts. The papers turned out to be the preliminary files of the forty two, complete with measurements and a set of photographs each.

'Should the Master wish to inspect or use one of them, please inform us at any time, and the slave will be brought to a private room.'

I remembered the sight of the giant German Dieter Schaffer, arms manacled and legs splayed wide, chained down to be anally and orally taken by a potential customer. Rashid al-Akhri had paid a considerable fee for this privilege. In these cases, it would be on the house. The slaves were already mine.

I poured myself another cup of tea. As opposed to the austere atmosphere of the training centre, al-Qatim's viewing rooms were pleasing to the eye, and the observation suite was very comfortable. But somehow I doubted that any room in an establishment dedicated to a high risk, high security business would truly offer privacy.

'Thank you. It is early days yet. At present, I am only interested in watching their progress in training.'

The group in the middle had finished their exercise, were put into a frame each and relieved of their penis clips. Now it was the turn of six other standing slaves, who watched the approaching trainers with apprehension, unable to protect their circumcised cock heads from the agony in store for them.

Having them all neatly aligned before me, I counted my former private contractors, and found only thirty seven. I mentioned this to the assistant by my side.

'We have so far temporarily removed five slaves for punishment, Master. They will be unavailable for training for a week, perhaps a little longer.'

'Is this usual?'

'It differs for each shipment, but yes, there are usually a few attempted attacks. Among your slaves we have had five so far who have tried to head-butt or bite trainers, or even attack them with some Kung Fu style kicks when they were released for the jump exercises. The personnel is trained to fend off and take down violent slaves, and bring them under control, though to avoid injury we prefer to shoot them with tranquilliser darts. Attacks always cause a disturbance. Still, we prefer that the slaves get it out of their system, so to speak. The punishment period delays training, but produces satisfactory results in the long term.'

At that moment we were joined by a young man with some papers in his hands, and I recognised Mustafa ben-Mustafa Jr. from al-Mera, the other slave centre.

'Sir Jonathan, can I speak to you for a moment?'

'Indeed, Mustafa. How is your father? What are you doing here?'

'My father, sir, is well and told me to give you his regards when I next saw you. I am helping out with the compilation of your new slaves' files, Master, and I believe I have encountered a problem.'

End of Chapter 4

To be continued