This is the 14th 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.
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The Changed Life by Gerry Taylor
Chapter 14 -- Ross Wells - again
I had received and returned the documentation of the Aloe Palace together with my cheque and a note of thanks to Abdou al-Akhri. I sent each of the brothers a personal letter of thanks for their splendid and totally unexpected gift' or gifts' in the case of both Tariq and Rashid.
Tariq rang me to say he was delighted that we would be neighbours. In Dahran terms that is eight miles away. I asked him if Abdou would be offended if I were to offer to buy Aziz from him to run the household. I could not quite believe myself when I heard myself saying that. Here was I an Englishman and an international banker, talking of buying a slave!
Tariq said `Quite the contrary. You may be helping him solve a problem. He is going to have two head of household if Aziz stays with him, and that, believe you me, is one too many. Let me have a word with Abdou.'
I said that I was going to have to get some more hands to help run the Aloe Palace. Tariq responded by saying that he thought he might be able to help me there, not with the existing slaves at the Aloe Palace, as Abdou had sold most of them to his brothers, but due to the fact that an auction was due to be held at al-Mera. He said that he would have a word with the dealer, and sure enough two hours later, I had the now familiar tan folder in my hands.
The terms were simply. Turn up by invitation only. Cash or bank draft or a combination of the two. Cash could be euro, US$, gold bullion or the currency of the Sheikdom.
I flipped through the various pages not believing what I was reading. It was a compilation similar to the file of each of my slaves and ran to about one hundred and twenty pages, as there were some 30 slave being sold. Number 22 stared up at me, and I stared back at Ross Wells. If I had not recognised his face, I said to myself, I certainly would have recognised his glorious arse hole in full quarter page technicolor. I simply could not believe it.
True to his word as always, Tariq turned up trumps. I had a call from Abdou and for $37,500 Aziz was mine. The papers came round the following day.
It was very busy at the Bank as there was a threat about the US dollar being devalued, although the US always calls such manoeuvres a `revaluation' as if your were going to get less dollars for your foreign currency instead of more.
Tommy Elford rang me to say that one of his contacts at the central Bank of Japan knew for certain that the revaluation' would occur three days hence, as the Japanese Yen was intimately tied to the dollar and they had to do a lot of readjusting so that the Yen was not also targeted as a revaluing' currency.
I asked him how many Chicken Nuggets was he selling and he said four on margin. Effectively, he was selling 80 million US$ short, would have to pay 5% up-front or US$4 million by way of surety, and complete the transaction with 5 days. If all things stayed the same, which they never did, he would get his US$4 million back exactly. For every cent the dollar gained, he would lose about three quarters of a million, for every cent it lost, he would gain the same amount.
I rang my private Bank in Grand Cayman and committed six million dollars to selling the dollar short. In fact, I was selling 120 million dollars I had not got, but hoped to buy back at a lesser price.
The dollar `revalued' by six cents against all other major currencies. It strengthened US exports, made imports dearer and made me seven point two million dollars, plus my six million back. I had not told anyone else about this currency deal, as currency transactions are notoriously fickle and you can do yourself and your friends a lot of damage.
Some days later - it was the day of the auction - I took some four drafts from the Bank each made out to `Cash' for euro 25,000 and some further 25,000 in notes. When I arrived at the auction rooms, Gustav having driven me there but not actually wanting to go inside, it was like drawing up to a large warehouse. There was no name or logo or identification it. There must have been some forty limousines or top of the range model cars outside.
Inside, I made myself known to the dealer who bowed and scraped me into a viewing box. Finger food and drink was available and being freely served, if I wanted it. I explained that this was my first auction and was unfamiliar with the procedures - a small white lie as Gustav had walked me through them.
I said I wanted `a toy and also someone to work on an estate which I had purchased.' I also enquired about ordinary farm workers, nothing specialised.
The dealer was over the moon. He had one or two `toys' in this very auction and certainly some hard workers. Perhaps, I would like to inspect them at my pleasure.
As other Arabs were arriving, I told him to go meet his clients that I would walk down. Four of the slaves were in cages and looked as if they would bite. The remainder were standing there hooked up to fixtures on the walls. Various attendants where there with what looked like cattle prods of the type that Gus Jennings had produced in the slave quarters the morning of my inspections. One attendant had a very visible rifle held at the ready.
I immediately spotted Ross because of his build, which I knew intimately, and from the tawny colouring of his hair. He was being probed by two other buyers. So I started at the far end of the room and worked my way round. There were six Americans on offer, two Brazilians, two from Russia and the rest were from 12 European countries, in their majority East European.
I was not looking for any one thing in particular, but for some reason started counting what I call in my own mind `an attitude of defiance'. Apart from the four in the cage, I would have bet a euro to a penny, that almost half were defiant and almost half resigned to their fate.
By the time, I got to Ross, he had been examined quite a lot and particularly to the rear. There was a glaze in his eyes and he was in the `display' posture which slaves are supposed to be in at auctions, so he did not see me until I actually took his jaw in my hand and brought his eyes in contact with mine.
The shock of recognition was as if I had hit him. He half stepped back, but I held his jaw and said, `Shussh now, Ross, shussh' very quietly. I looked him up and down, jiggled his balls and smacked his butt, smiling to myself and then to two other Arab buyers standing at my side. I again smacked his butt, but did not examine him anally.
The two Arabs saw that I was European, and as I passed them by, intent on my catalogue, I heard them murmur in Arabic, `a new buyer....does not know what to check for...hasn't a clue...'
The auction commenced. I notice that most of the buyers seemed to be in pairs or groups of three, as if their common knowledge would determine on a buy.
Auctions of anything, if anything, are most unusual, in that if the blood rushes to you head, you can end up owning something that you never wanted at all.
All the first fifteen bids, went for between euro 20 and euro 35 thousand. I had my eye on a Czech lad who was number 17. I though that he looked strong and might prove useful as it said on his profile that he had worked on a vegetable farm. I entered the bidding which was slow for him at 15 thousand euro and finally acquired him at 22 thousand euro. I pursed my lips as if in satisfaction, and nodded to the Arabs on either side of me who smiled back.
Lots 18 to 20 went by in fifteen minutes. Lot 21 was Ross and he was described as a marketing executive and part time fashion model. The bidding start at euro 15 thousand and quickly climbed to euro 22 thousand and then seemed to falter. I was looking at Ross out of the corner of my eye. His were glued on the gallery where I was sitting, but to the non-observer, he was just on display and being made circle and turn on the auction platform. I counter bid 23 thousand. There was a bid of 24. My counter of 25. Bid 26, 27, 28, I counter bid at 29 thousand euro and the Arabs who had been bidding shook their heads and Ross was mine. He was quickly shuffled off stage.
I went down to the dealer and paid him two cash drafts plus a thousand euro cash and instructed him to have the two slaves delivered to the Villa that evening. There would be no extra delivery charge it being in the capital itself.
I rang Gustav on my mobile phone and had him pick me up ten minutes later to drive me home, but not before we had passed through a specialised store which he knew of, where I acquired five fly whisks two in very plain gold with a beautiful filigree around knuckle at either end of the handle and a further three in black polished onyx.
I also bought a dozen tan leather collars with attached Velcro strips and clips for hooking up a linking chain and a half a dozen very flexible canes, which the assistant told me were very useful `for camels as well,' and a number of other items which I thought in time might come in useful.
Just before six o'clock, a large white Transit van drew up at the gate of the Villa, and was admitted. The Czech whose name was Jiri Aron and Ross Wells were unhooked from a ceiling hook, had their arms snapped behind their neck one at a time and velcroed to a neck collar. Simple but very effective. I met the delivery man and took possession of the two and indicated to them to get into the house. Ross had not said a word, but stiffened visibly when he saw the naked Yuriy in the hallway.
Once the front door was closed. I went over to Jiri, a good looking lad about 24, who had goosebumps all over his arms, thought the house was not cold, and undid the Velcro straps on his wrists and then unhooked the Velcro on this collar. He dropped to his knees and put his head on the marble floor of the hall.
I went over to Ross and did the same. When the collar was being unhooked, tears started to stream down his face. I took him in my arms and all I could hear through his sobs, was `Boss, oh Boss, oh Boss, I though I was dreaming, I thought I was dreaming, oh Boss...' and he slumped to the floor as his legs gave out.
Yuriy did not know what to make of it at all. Jiri on the floor had begun to move away as if he were invading some private ceremony. I indicated to Yuriy to help me bring Ross to the downstairs shower and left them under warm water, indicating to Yuriy that he was to see them washed, shaved, and cleaned inside and out, as I pointed to the toilet douche.
It had been a long hot day, and I went to get a longer and cooler drink.
To be continued...