The Seventh Desert by Gerry Taylor This is the twentieth chapter (ex twenty two) of a novel about present-day slavery and gay sex. Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission, gay, sex If you are underage to read this kind of material or if it is unlawful for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage now.
Chapter 20 -- The sapping of will
I had made a mistake in July in going to the opal mine by car. It had been almost a three hour journey down to the Seventh Desert and a three hour journey back. With the time spent there, it was in fact a full day out of the calendar. So I had the Puma ExCom helicopter now collect me early each first Monday of every month and return me after midday.
I must admit that I gave Sevil Garibov a bit of a shock when I told him that I was going to the opal mine and that he was coming with me. Were he not a slave, I would have had to couch my words more carefully. As it was, he almost fainted, but recovered when I told him that I wanted him as steward on the flight and that he was to stock a small bar.
`Do you still remember how to serve a glass of Chablis in mid-air?'
`Yes, Master. You gave me quite a shock. No problem with a well-chilled Chablis.'
I told him it would be every first Monday and he nodded his understanding.
Stan, my Property Manager, created a helipad in the centre of the Lemon Palace courtyard with a large painted white H at its centre. The courtyard itself could have handled half a dozen landings simultaneously.
In any new venture, it takes time to come to grips not just with the currents and eddies of the business, but with its nuances before you can get an actual feel for how it is going. My one great asset here was Zabian al-Kibbe, the Lebanese General Manager and his team of thirty staff, twenty five of whom were mostly engaged in supervisory security matters. Initially, I thought that a ratio of ten slaves to one staff member was a bit on the dangerous side, but Zabian explained the safety procedures to me, but once I saw the systems in place, I agreed with him.
Simple changes in production, clearer changes in security, water now coming from the Aloe Palace distribution unit twice daily, a new sifting system, had all put the opal mine on profits of just three million euro a month since I had bought it. If this kept going, I would have my purchase price back in less than three years.
`That is with all bills paid, Sir Jonathan. The only overhead we have at the end of any month is the lease on the new equipment.'
`While there are some tax advantages in a leasing agreement for corporate entities, there are none for me as an individual and ultimate owner, so use the monthly profit, to get rid of the lease as quickly as possible. I know that it is with Deckams. But when it is cleared, then you will have a true net profit, and make sure the new security and computer systems you want are top of the range. In fact, give me the computer specifications and I'll have a consultant I know look over them.'
Zabian had the specs pulled by one of his minions.
`The one worry I do have, Zabian, is how you are controlling the former mercenaries sent down here.'
`We have had two problem cases and they were sorted out in half a day. There is none of this long-term punishment here. The sun, and the heat, do that for us. Here the security staff deploys trustees -- slaves of three years standing - throughout the entire production and mining operation. The trustees have short whips. The security staff are armed with modified prods with a low shock setting. The Supervisors have tasers which will stun anything that moves.
`We also monitor and record everything on CCTV for the protection of the staff, the trustees and also for the protection of the slaves, not just from the trustees but from one another. Also nothing gets out of the mine except the opals produced each five days. Six helicopter shipments a month, every five days a million euro of opals. All delivery lorries, even our own water transporters are searched minutely every day they leave. We are not concerned about a slave getting out, but rather a single opal that does not get onto the production inventory.'
`So, back to the mercenaries. No great difficulty with them?'
`No, Jonathan. You seem to be worried on that score, so let me show you.'
Zabian spoke into his two-way radio which looked more like a mobile or cellphone.
`This will take ten minutes or so, but let me show you the computer room while we wait,' and he escorted me into a cooler room with various systems humming away.
One of the staff there stood up and came over to us.
`Show us the position of every slave in the mine at this moment.'
The staff member pressed a single key and immediately two hundred and seventy six red dots appeared on a three foot by two plasma screen on the wall. I knew 276 was the number of slaves at the mine on that day and that number, apart from the red dots, was to be seen in the top right-hand corner of the screen.
As I looked at the screen, various dots seemed to be leaving the central section of the screen and heading towards a rectangular area, which Zabian explained were the administrative offices.
`These are the slaves I have just called.'
On the screen the moving slaves seemed then to line up and stop not far from the rectangle.
`It is a radio link to the frequency of a watch-like bracelet. If any slave goes outside the limits of the screen, alarms go off both visually and audibly. In fact, the sirens would deafen you every time we test them. The dots show us where each slave is,' Zabian stated.
He held out his right wrist and on it was what looked like a steel watch with a black screen on it. He nodded to the technician at the console, who tapped in something on the keyboard.
Zabian held up the watch. The words `Administration Building' had appeared in red.
`As you can see, I have been called here to the Administration Building. The message can go to an individual watch or to all watches. Everyone at the opal mine, slave and free man, has one of these. Japanese. The latest.'
Zabian then said, `Show us the trustees' to the technician at the console, who pressed a second button and forty of the red dots became forty blue dots, most of which were in the central area of the screen. Again the number forty appeared in blue in the right hand corner of the screen.
`Staff,' he said and a further button was pressed.
Thirty five green dots appeared on the screen all within the rectangle, outside which there were now three lines of red dots.
`We have four dishes on the roof in bomb proof, protected containers, including two similarly protected satellite dishes.'
`I saw nothing on the roof when coming in.'
No, you didn't and should not have. As I say,' Zabian continued, it is all protected not just from sight, both ground and air and protected as well from the elements, from tampering with, from deliberate harm. From the outside, it actually looks just like another floor, a part of the structure. You would not know it was there unless you were specifically looking for it. And, Sir Jonathan, this,' and he held out his wrist again, `this is top secret never to be mentioned. Only two of the staff here know the full details of this with myself and now you. The less who know about how our top security works the better.'
I nodded my understanding.
We went outside into the sun and the heat of the mid-morning. It was like stepping into a furnace and a sauna at the same time, but the sauna was within your own clothes and the furnace was just outside your own skin.
The former mercenaries were standing in three rows in front of the administration building. There was a number of trustees standing at either end of the ranks. I took them to be trustees, though they were naked, by the fact that they also all had an ankle bracelet on the right leg, a leather-type belt attached to their waists to which was attached a two-way radio, which crackled from time to time. I looked at one trustee after one long crackle of static and his hand went immediately to turn the radio either down or off, as it did not make a further sound. They all had also a two foot crop, with a head of split leather attached to their belts.
As we arrived, one further figure emerged from the opal mine walking with a strange gait to get in the last line of mercenaries. There was a short chain linking his two ankles. As he placed himself beside the last slave in the line, one of the Overseers touched his back with the prod. The slave jerked, did not utter a word, but I could see that his legs failed him and he half-collapsed on the sand.
Zabian saw me looking over at the action.
`The last slave to arrive at any call is always punished. The prod the Overseer has used is at a fixed low setting. It is punishment without harm.'
One of the trustees shouted `at display' and I had the opportunity to see the quick reaction time of those who were there for my inspection.
The invader slaves were now just three months at their new work location. There is something about how slaves stand, or look, or even hold themselves when you view them, which allows you immediately to assess if there is a problem or not.
My first and immediate impression was that there was no problem with these slaves and I commented this to Zabian.
Jonathan, the sun and the heat sap the will of even the strongest here. The ankle bracelet is not just monitored by officialdom '- and he waved a finger in the direction of the sky -- but we piggy-back the frequency. Secondly, each slave has the monitor-watch on his right wrist and thirdly, these slaves have a short leg chain, which allows them to walk easily, but slowly, and it stops running.'
As we were speaking a horn sounded twice, not loudly, but very clearly and slaves from down in the mine and around the surface area were quickly moving towards a covered area, away from the mine and some distance from the central administration block.
`We no longer work from eleven to one, Sir Jonathan. But there is an extra hour of work in the cool of the evening. It produces an extra four per cent.'
The slaves were going under large canvass awnings, where barrels of water were to be seen with small cups attached. The slaves helped themselves to water and then just lay down on the cool sand, or propped themselves up against one another. Two appeared to be having sex and then a further two started to have as well.
However, the forty one I was looking at stayed where they were, and I was moving down the first line viewing them. It was rather strange but I thought for a moment that several of them were getting hardons. And then I was quite sure that, yes, such was the case. I did not think that my inspection would have anything to do with it. They all seemed leaner than when I last saw them and I mentioned these two points to Zabian.
`It is a Pavlovian reaction, I am told, Sir Jonathan. The slaves rest now for two hours out of the sun and are allowed to have sex. They must come once during the midday break. I heard that you had something similar in the early morning at the Palaces and I have found that it reduces testosterone aggression considerably.'
I found it interesting that here in the middle of a hot desert those whose sexual orientation was most likely heterosexual would indulge so quickly in homosexual activity. Perhaps the loss of their freedom, the hopelessness of their immediate situation, their physical suffering in working in such an intolerant climate, the need of companionship, all combining would see the solace of sexual release with one of their own former buddies and one of their own sex.
`Which two did you have to discipline?'
Zabian pointed out the two in question who now looked as submissive as the rest.
`There are two positive things about soldiers, former soldiers, mercenaries and those previously in the military. First is that they know that they cannot fight a superior force and secondly they are all good at taking clear-cut orders. The last thing in particular. Give them a clear-cut order and it will be done, more or less quickly, but it will be done, because they know as sure as the Dahran sun is hot, that they will be punished for not doing it.'
`And what is the usual punishment?'
`A formal punishment would be medium powered taser at the bottom of the spine, just above the backside. Nothing sophisticated. It leaves the slave jerking on the sand for some minutes, but he will be back working in less than fifteen minutes and must make the time up at the end of the workday. No one escapes work due to being punished.'
Although we were walking past the slaves, I did notice that a further three security personnel were stationed at different points behind and to the side of myself and Zabian, and they were holding tasers in their hands, not on their belts.
I felt more comfortable in my mind in seeing for myself the more submissive attitude and demeanour of the slaves. The slaves were `at display'. If the truth were told, a number of the mercenary slaves, although all had been depilated apart from pubic and pit hair and a very high and tight marine type haircut, perspiring as they were in the hot morning sun looked every bit of rough trade that some of them might once have been or even currently were. Many had tattoos.
`Have there been any accidents or deaths in the past three months? I only saw a brief mention of something in your reports,' I asked Zabian.
`In these three months, since you bought the mine, only two deaths, but then it happens that way at times. Some months go by with few deaths, and then we have a spate all in one month. I would, however, expect a further number before the end of the year. Exhaustion does take its toll in this climate. Do you need these slaves for anything else, Sir Jonathan?'
`No, you may dismiss them.'
He nodded to one of the trustees who seemed to be in overall charge and, once dismissed, the slaves moved quickly out of the sun and under the canvass awnings. Several started to embrace others who had been waiting there.
For my part, I felt that, although I was under a large golf-type umbrella being held by a slave, I had actually run an Olympic ten thousand meters.
`How many of the 276 slaves here have been here for five years or more?'
I thought that the General Manager might have to look up that one, but he had the fact at his finger tips and immediately said, `Only seven.'
`And how many were originally bought between four and six years ago?'
`I would say about eighty, Sir Jonathan.'
I did some mental arithmetic. A survival rate of one in eleven after just two and a half thousand days.
`Have these seven shipped to the Lemon Palace. Komil could do with some well-trained workers for the farms.'
`And new stock?'
`Buy as many as you need?'
`Do you want the same procedures on slave purchases to apply?'
I looked at Zabian.
`What were those?' I enquired.
`No purchase over twenty thousand euro; only Caucasian, Slav or Middle East stock; preferably labourer or blue collar workers; no one over thirty years of age; prior approval in each case.'
`Zabian, let's stick to those same conditions, but you can up the limit to twenty two thousand and you don't need approval beforehand.'
`Thank you, Sir Jonathan, for that act of trust,' he replied.
`What about their general health?'
When I mentioned this to Zabian, he said, `They all get a monthly check-up from the vet and while I can't remember the precise detail, all of this lot have lost between four and eight kilos of fat since they came here.'
`If we can keep them healthy, they may live longer excluding this climate,' I commented.
`Dr. Haniff comes twice a month for a morning.'
`The Indian vet?'
`Dahran actually, but of Indian extraction. You know him?'
`Yes, I had him do a number of castrations for me. How can he see 276 patients in two half-days?'
`He doesn't. He only treats emergencies, sets or re-sets broken bones, extracts bad teeth, gives shots of penicillin to those with clap.'
`Is clap a problem here?'
`It happens at least once a month with one or two slaves. It's a recurring problem.'
I thought to myself that if the slaves were a controlled group, as researchers say, with no outside contact, then penicillin over time should have removed all such disease. If it was coming in, it was through the staff that did have outside contact on their days off.
`Have a word with Dr. Haniff and have him come for either two full days or for four half-days a month and include all the staff in the penicillin shots or whatever he gives the slaves. Whatever is getting in, it's getting in too often.'
We went back inside the administration building and one of the slaves brought me up to the suite with which I was familiar.
Sevil was there with another slave who was laying out a change of clothes. Sevil offered me a glass of lemon-juice as I came through the suite door. As he is very submissive, he would never speak to me first in a month of Sundays without being spoken to. I had told him previously not to be afraid to speak.
`This is better for the thirst in this climate, Master, than anything else.'
I drank half the glass and offered the other half to Sevil's lips. He took the glass and sipped it.
`Thank you, Master.'
I gave Sevil a wink, and he blushed a little. I don't think he knows how to really get a handle on me yet. I started to strip off my sodden clothes before following the other slave into the shower where I could hear water already running.
The inspection of the mercenaries had left me randy and the attending slave must have been expecting me to move on him, because his butt-hole was well-lubricated when I fingered it and as the water splashed down on us, I prepared to take him at my leisure - at my cool leisure.
`What's your name, slave?'
`John, sir, John Finch. Let me serve your pleasure, sir.'
The accent was American. I put two fingers on the slave's shoulders and he turned round and in under the warm water of the shower.
`That's fine by me, John. Let me see how you pleasure a Master.'
It was a long and most enjoyable shower with the slave doing his best under the constant spray to keep me inside him and then in his mouth. I will admit that his tonguing of my balls and scrotum was very well done under rather watery conditions.
When I came out of the shower much refreshed in mind and body, the two slaves dried me off and thereafter Sevil stuck to me like a limpet.
`Are you afraid, Sevil, that I am going to forget you and leave you here?'
`Yes, Master,' was his honest answer and again he looked afraid. It must be painful to always live in fear of something over which you have absolutely no control.
I scratched behind an ear, I won't forget you, Sevil,' and slightly maliciously added, at least, not on this occasion.'
Sevil did not look at all happy until we were again in the air.
Some slaves feel guilt or shame all the time. Guilt about having let themselves be enslaved. Shame at having seen their families left to the quirks of modern life. Shame simply about being slaves is particularly a feature of those who have not yet fully accepted their slavery. And even for those who have accepted their slavery, there is about what they should have done for their Master, but may not have done well or at all.
It is very easy for an experienced Master to spot that guilt, the lack of eye contact, the furtive side looks, the avoidance of the Master. Guilt also shows itself, when slaves come to say `thank you, Master' without really having a reason for it.
These thoughts were running through my mind which at times is working on a number of levels when slaves are queued in the evening after dinner.
Luke Peoples was in the line of waiting slaves, on his own and when his turn came to come up the steps of the veranda to me, he reminded me of so many young men, long limbed, gangly, not yet fully grown. He was filling out and clearly the exercise programme was doing him well.
`Thank you, Master,' he said kissing my feet and preparing to move away all in one motion.
`Why thanks, Luke?'
He beamed that I remembered his name.
`For not ordering Flavio to give me more than two strokes the other evening,' was the reply.
`You deserved more?'
He grinned the Peoples' grin which Terry, his brother, also manages to do so impishly well.
`Maybe one or two more, Master. Flavio didn't hurt me. Sorry, he did, but he didn't, if you know what I mean, Master. I shouldn't have laughed in the first place.'
`What do you like most here, Luke, and what do you like least?'
`Most, Master? That's easy. The classes of English and Arabic. I love learning when people explain things to me.'
`You're going to the English classes? They are only for those who don't speak English.'
That's-a me-a, Master. I-a don't-a speak-a da English-a' he said, with a mimic and a laugh. And I love all the gym and swimming classes. I loved the sex techniques classes. I said I needed them more than anyone else, as I only have my own hand. Everyone else has a buddy.'
I was looking at Luke Peoples. He was a fine young slave and in time, with the equipment he had between his legs, he would make a buddy genuinely happy. But not just yet. He had a lot to learn. I would also have loved to put his clear uncluttered mind at the service of Jens Johanssen, but he was still too immature.
`And what do you like least?'
`The food, Master. I could kill for a burger and a coke.'
I smiled at that, but said, `what you get at present in the slave biscuits and the soup is all the protein and vitamins that you need.'
Yes, Master,' he said, with a sigh, but it certainly does not taste like a burger, or a coke.'
I rubbed the stubble on his head a little and sent him on his way. I certainly was not going to change the diet of the slaves any further, beyond what I had already done by now giving them vegetable soup, made from the produce of the farms, and then of course, the slave biscuits.
They could thank me for a balanced diet, they could!
End of Chapter 20
To be continued...
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