Dahran

The Time Line by Gerry Taylor This is the eighteenth chapter [ex twenty two] of a novel about gay sex and present-day slavery. Keywords: authority, control, gay, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, sex, submission 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. ============= The Prison Doctor and The Changed Life [the first novel of this series] are now available as full novels in Adobe Acrobat format on http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ ===========

Chapter 18--Collectivism

The opal mine deal went through without a hitch. Within twenty five days all the mine slaves had been transferred back to the al-Kadir property. I was particularly concerned about the former mercenaries, as I had taken them off the hands of the Dahran Court by assuring the Court that they would be in a very secure location. I had the settings of their ankle bracelets re-configured to the coordinates of my Palaces.

I looked at the files of the thirty seven surviving mercenaries. Geoff has been right in his numbers estimate. However, the reports on them showed that whatever fighting spirit had been there on their invasion of Dahra had now been whipped and worked out of them. They were an obedient lot of hard working slaves.

I decided to face the problem of Marko and his fear of the butcher of Vlorju head on and had Marko and my chef, Flavio, summoned from the kitchens.

Marko is one of those few slaves whose presence can illuminate a room with the sheer happiness of his personality--Abdul, my mentally handicapped slave, being another. In Marko's dark and vibrantly alive eyes, there radiates such a pure form of contentment that I feared what I was about to do to him. But, I felt that as he had always trusted me before, he would trust me again in this instance.

When Marko came into the study, I took his hands and smelled them. I pressed his fingers to my nose and inhaled deeply. Marko laughed for he knew what I was doing--trying to guess what type of ice-cream he had been making.

`I can't smell anything today, Marko,' and the slave giggled at my lack of success.

`That, Master, is because I am making brown-bread ice cream and I have not yet added the vanilla to the mix,' he giggled.

I smiled at him and at Flavio who normally accompanied Marko in moral support of his lover and kitchen sous-chef.

Some serious business, Marko,' I said to the twenty four year old slave. I need someone to be head chef at the al-Kadir kitchens. I know Flavio sent your helpers Efim and Viktor down to help out. But I want someone to take over and run the kitchens properly. Will you be that chef for me?'

Flavio stepped close to his lover and put his arm over Marko's shoulder and I could see his fingers squeeze Marko's arm. Marko's dark eyes shone even more brightly and he whispered, `Yes, Master. But will I be able to return each night to comfort Flavio?'

I looked over at Flavio who was standing there with a bemused smile on his face. My thirty year old Italian chef is the possessor of a cock that needs daily attention and Marko after his previous rapes had found a true lover. Flavio's cock in its length and girth had been well and truly accommodated by Marko's previously stretched anus.

Yes, of course, Marko,' and looking at Flavio, I commented. He always seems to think of you first.'

`I know, Master. He always does. That is why I love him so much,' was Flavio's soft reply.

`There is one other thing, Marko. I have got you a personal slave. No other slave in my Palaces has a personal slave. You are the first.'

I could see that I had confused him and Flavio as well.

`What is a personal slave, Master?' he asked.

`A slave who will look after you during his every waking moment. If you are not happy with him at any time, you can punish him any way you want. You can order him to do anything you want done. No other Head of Household or Stables will have the power to order your personal slave to do anything. Only you. If you drop a spoon, he will pick it up for you. If you want a drink of water, he will get it for you. He must learn to guess what you want before you even think of it. He will wash you in the morning. He will massage your shoulders if they are tired. He will do anything you want.'

`But why, Master? Why me? I have Flavio. I have no need of a personal slave.'

`In fact, Marko, yes, you do have need of a personal slave, because I do not want you to be ever afraid again. Come with me.'

I walked out of the study with the two slaves following me, out on to the veranda and down the steps into the courtyard where a slave had been standing at rest' in the hot sun and who quickly went at display' as soon as I had appeared. The chain on his ankles prevented him from having his feet wider apart.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Marko freeze on the last step as he saw the slave in front of me.

Don't be afraid,' I said to Marko, he cannot hurt you or anybody here. Look at him. He has been castrated.'

Marko had regained his composure and glancing at me, I saw the most determined look in his eyes, a look which I had never seen there before, a look which comes on seeing a living nightmare before you.

The slave `at display' caught sight of Marko coming up behind me, and his eyes widened at the approach of his former nightly victim.

Marko looked at me and said, `You meant what you said, Master?'

`Yes, indeed. Every word.'

Hardly had I uttered the last syllable than Marko drew back and, with the flat of his right hand, struck the former butcher of Vlorju full force across his face. Such was the force of the open handed blow that the slave sank to one knee and had to struggle to retain his balance as he tried to stand up again.

I was shocked by the suddenness and the force of the blow. I was more shocked that the blow had come from Marko whom I regard as one of the gentlest of slaves. Flavio was standing there with his mouth open, frozen in surprise.

The slave was now on his feet again with his hands behind his head at the proper display position. There was the imprint of Marko's hand clearly on his face.

Marko stepped up to the slave and put his face not three inches from the face of his former sadistic tormentor. I saw Gjon Vlorju's eyes open as he recognised his former war prize toy boy and his lips started to form the name Marko.

`On your knees, Vlorju, and never walk again on your feet until I order you to.'

The former butcher of Marko's town knelt down on the paving of the courtyard and Marko turned to me and said `Master, thank you for helping me face my fear. I am no longer afraid. And thank you for this personal slave. I will find something for him to do. May I also borrow some things from the retraining room?'

`Yes, Marko. Whatever you need.'

I was genuinely surprised at how Marko had matured in my service over the previous five years and thought that it was a case of not seeing change in those who are in daily contact with us.

That evening, some four hours later, as I was being driven down to the al-Kadir property in one of the sand-buggies, I saw a slave on his hands and knees heading in the direction of the al-Kadir lands. It was Gjon Vlorju I noted as we passed by.

It was a fortnight or so later that I happened by chance to be at the al-Kadir properties and met my ice cream maker slave, Marko, again. He seemed to have grown in stature as if something within him had unfolded and given him further strength of character. I had heard from Georgi Gridov, my Overseer, there that the kitchens were working perfectly.

`How is your personal slave behaving, Marko?'

`He is learning, Master, to please me,' and taking what looked like a bronze clothes peg from his belt made it clack. It was a sharp clear metallic sound and immediately Gjon Vlorju came out of the kitchens at a very awkward run with his left knee on the ground and only using his right foot to propel himself forward. The slave stopped some paces from Marko.

I looked at the slave and noticed the bruising of his nipples where either teeth or clips had been used. As I observed the slave, he shifted on his left knee ever so slightly, and walking around the slave, I could see the end of what I estimated was one of the six inch butt plugs protruding from his hole and well visible between the cheeks of his ass.

`You are letting him walk on one foot and one knee I see. The last time I saw him he was walking on both hands and knees.'

`Yes, Master, I had to stop that and I had to butt plug him as he was too enticing a sight for some of the other slaves who wanted to fuck him as he crawled around. I had no objection to them doing that to this slave, but it would have upset their work schedules.'

`Make sure, Marko, that he pleases you. Because if he does not, that will displease me, and he knows full well what is going to happen if he displeases me a single time.'

I was pleased with Marko as he had truly come out of himself, that he had lost his fear of the past and was taking control of one my facilities.

The following week found me again at the al-Kadir property to inspect the slave buildings which had gone up in record time. There were separate rooms for Supervisors, common areas, showers and toilet areas which were merely holes in the floor for the once a day defecating which each slave had learned by now to control. Each kofila had two facing rooms, each with two double mattresses of hard leather where two slaves or buddies could sleep at a time.

I thought the layout by Qusay al-Rafi, the young Egyptian architect, was a real improvement on the layout of the other slave quarters, in my other Palace buildings and I told him to re-model them as well. Heaven knows with what Farouq al-Hamdi had paid me for the opal mine, I could well afford the improvements.

It was in the afternoon when I did arrive at the al-Kadir property and Georgi, my Overseer, together with his assistant, Dieter, were waiting for me to show me the last of the three buildings which had just been handed over to them. There were stairs to the upper floors at either end.

I was very impressed with the quality of the finish and Georgi assured me that that was very much the architect's attention for detail. As we came down to the second floor, I could hear noises towards the centre of the building from several of the rooms. As we approached, a slave came backwards out of one of the rooms, gesticulating and saying, or rather trying to say something in very poor Arabic. From the accent and the inflection of the words, I guessed that he was American and from the chain with its heavy plastic casing, I could see that he was one of the former mercenaries. I was effectively in the mercenaries' area of the building.

Are the former mercenaries housed here, Georgi?' I asked and as I spoke the slave ahead of us heard me, turned and shouted al-Sayyid' --the Master-- to those inside the rooms and rushed back into the room from which he had exited.

`Yes, Master, there are five kofilas of seven former mercenaries each, and each kofila head is one of the Swedes.'

We reached the doorway where the slave had entered and four slaves were `at display' beside the beds. They seemed to stand even more at attention as I entered. The room was similar to the unoccupied ones I had inspected on the floor above. The was a number of pegs on which items could be hung in future such as the gold necklace I give to each slave after thirty days of proper and good service. There was a shelf with nothing on it save for two folded blankets in the event of a cold night. These slaves being freshly arrived from the opal mine would like all new slaves have no possessions, not even a minimal pair of sandals.

I noticed that the four had all their body hair removed except for a close crew cut and that their pubes were trimmed. I pointed to this and Georgi commented that the Russian barbers had moved their shop down to the al-Kadir property one day a week for the past number of weeks.

`Open your mouth,' I said to the nearest slave. Only when he did not comply and I noticed that his eyes shifted from my shoulder area over to Georgi, did I realise that the slave's Arabic did not extend that far yet, and Arabic is the language we speak at the Palaces after midday.

`Open your mouth,' I repeated in English. Cal Thorson's handiwork gleamed out at me.

`Both Dr. Cal and Dr. Hal are giving priority to the new arrivals,' Dieter said at my side.

I pointed to a tattoo on a forearm.

Make sure that is removed,' and as I looked at the other three slaves, I noticed a further tattoo on an upper arm. It was Semper Fidelis'--the US marine `always faithful' motto.

`Is that a copy of the Marine motto, or were you in the service?' I said in English.

`Sir, in the corps, Sir. I mean, Master,' the slave blurted out. His military training was still there. I find it easier at times to give orders to former military slaves as they know how to obey properly once they recognise me as Master. Yuriy, my Head of Stables at the Aloe Palace always springs to mind.

`I do not allow tattoos.'

`Master, yes, Master.'

I saw Dieter making a note of it on his pad.

The former mercenary slave had a dark all over tan, his eyes very clear. I put my hand to his lips and pulled them apart. He too had been to the dentist. One of his eyes was a little bloodshot.

`What happened to your eye?'

`Master, the eye doctor gave me treatment with a laser in one eye. I can see perfectly now. Thank you, Master. Before it was fuzzy without glasses which were taken from me when I was captured, Master.'

`A very stupid thing to have invaded this country.'

`Master, yes, Master. A real fuck-up, Master.'

I was looking at the slave. He was well-muscled, certainly without body fat, with two well pointed nipples and a good jaw line. He even had a single ridge of abdominal muscles, a navel with a slight upper ridge of skin on it, and a well-proportioned circumcised cock.

I took his cock in my hand and held it. He blinked once at the feel of my hand.

`American?'

`Master, yes, Master.'

`From?'

`Topeka, Kansas, Master.'

I stroked gently the rim of his glans and could feel the cock begin to grow in my hand. I let go of it.

`Very sensitive, I see.'

`Master, yes, Master.'

I walked behind the slave and he had a perfect back. The hard work of the opal mine had obviously done him no harm apart from some camel-cane marks on his buttocks.

`Bend over and spread'em'

The slave bent over to reveal a perfectly hairless set of buttocks separated by a clean trench at whose centre was a tight hole, moistly dark red. I moved my hand down his crack and let a finger rest on the sphincter muscle. It was hard. The slave had never been entered, or at least, not recently. A fine single ball hung loose in its sack under his body.

`Up and face me.'

The slave straightened his body immediately and did an about face. He was blinking and slightly flushed.

`You have never been fucked or entered?'

`Master, fucked never. In the corps, the doctors examined me on several occasions with instruments and gloved fingers, Master.'

`I have a compound here where slaves are taught to like being fucked. Each of my slaves has to have a buddy and your buddy may from time to time want to fuck you, or you him. You have to know how to give him pleasure and to receive pleasure as well.'

The slave was now clearly with a heightened blush in his cheeks from my touching his anus and my comments as he answered, `Master, yes, Master.'

`You have a lot to learn here about the ways of my Palaces.'

`Master, yes, Master. And Master, thank you. We have heard that you sold the mine. Thank you for bringing us here and not leaving us there, Master,' he said as he glanced back at his companions.

The slave was enthusiastic in his thanks at least. I didn't make any comment. I merely ordered Georgi to fit all the former mercenary slaves with six inch butt plugs for two days. That would sort out the genuine thanks from mere flattery.

As we walked down from that encounter, I asked Georgi the nationalities of those who had been former mercenaries.

`I am not sure of them all, Master. I will have to ask Ben that. But most are American. There is one Mexican, two Filipinos and two from Indonesia. I will check for you, Master.'

`Remind me to come back here in two days time to check on those butt plugs.'

`Yes, Master.'

When I returned two afternoons later. I returned with the Palaces' `official' flogger, Alexei. He came armed with a selection of three foot camel-canes.

There were four lines of slaves lined up outside the al-Kadir buildings. I still did not regard the al-Kadir setup as a Palace, as it was essentially a farming project and would remain such.

Georgi, the al-Kadir Overseer, was at my side.

`Were they all fitted with a butt plug as I ordered?'

`Yes, Master. It has only been taken out when they have gone to shit each morning and each of them has learned how to put it back in.'

I nodded my approval and spoke to the slaves.

`Do you all understand English? If so raise your left hand.'

Hands came from behind necks and went up in the air. When all slaves had done so, I continued.

`At display. I am speaking to you in English, because I am told your Arabic is not yet good enough to understand what I have to say. We speak Arabic after midday and English before midday.'

I let my words sink in as the slaves put their left hands behind their necks again.

`Since going to the opal mine, how many of you have thought of escaping from Dahra? If you have, put up your left hand again.'

There was a deadly silence. No hand went up immediately. I looked up and down the line.

`How many of you have thought of escaping from Dahra?'

Three, four, eight, fifteen and finally twenty hands went up.

`Stand to one side,' I said to those with raised hands.

`Alexei, three strokes across the buttocks to this lot,' I said to the remaining slaves.

With methodical efficiency, Alexei delivered the punishment I had ordered to the fourteen slaves who had not put up their left hand. There were gasps, groans, and cries as the blows of the unmerciful camel-cane were delivered by an adroit Alexei.

When he had done, I spoke to the smarting slaves again standing `at display'.

`How many of you have thought of escaping from Dahra?'

Seven further hands went up, then four more.

Stand over with the others,' I said to them and instructing Alexei, I said another three strokes to each of these'.

One of the three remaining slaves was trembling. I could see his eyes darting from side to side in his turmoil. One of the slaves raised his hand, and I motioned him out of the way, and I told Alexei to continue.

The trembling slave cried out as he was beaten, the other never gasped or groaned or cried out at all, though after nine strokes of a camel-cane he must have been hurting cruelly.

`I can repeat my question, if necessary.'

The slave who had been trembling was now shaking quite badly. Something was amiss here and I went up to him.

`Since you were enslaved you have never even thought once of trying to escape from Dahra?'

The slave gasped for air, and blurted out, No, Master, not since I saw the video.' The accent was American of the deep south. I know it is impossible with the bracelet on my ankle. Please, Master, I have never thought of escaping. I just want to live. Please, Master. Please believe me.'

It was, of course, possible that the slave was telling the truth, but I felt that any slave would have thought of escaping, at least once. I went over to the last slave, and in his eyes, I could see defiance. The defiance was not in his face or demeanour. It was in his eyes. He was the most dangerous of the lot.

Turning to Georgi who was beside me, I said, `Get this slave over to the first compound for training. He is not to get out of the last compound until the trainers there are totally happy with him.'

I was confident that at the end of five or six weeks there would be no defiance in the eyes of that slave.

I looked at the lines of slaves `at display' to my side.

`You will never be punished here for telling the truth. But I tell you your life is now here in Dahra. There is no escape and you will work hard for me or else you will feel the punishments of my Overseers.'

I went over to the slave who had said that he had never thought of escaping.

`I believe what you have said. You have been punished wrongly. Because of that you will have your leg chains taken off and I will grant you one favour,' and I indicated to Dieter who was nearby to get a key to unlock the leg chains.

`Favour, Master?'

`Ask for something and I will grant it if possible.'

The slave still looked afraid. I surmised that he was not much of a former mercenary.

Master,' he said hesitatingly, if his chains can be taken off as well,' and he pointed to another ex-mercenary slave. It was the slave from Topeka. Maybe they were unofficial buddies, I thought.

`Bend and spread'em.'

The slave did and revealed a distended hole with the three inch wide butt plug well inserted in it.

Take it out, Alexei,' I said to the flogger beside me, who with one fluid movement hooked his finger in the ring of the butt plug and pulled it out with quite an audible plop' and a shout of pain from the slave. The anus did not quite seal over such was the loss of muscle power even after two days usage of the plug. I gave the slave a slap on the backside and told him to stand straight.

I beckoned the Topeka slave over and told him to bend over, and nodded to Alexei, who was no less efficient in extracting the second butt plug in less than two minutes.

Dieter was back with a key and undid the two sets of leg chains. The smaller of the two slaves, the one from the deep south, looked at his companion and I knew from the look that he was the bottom in this particular partnership.

Addressing the slave from Topeka, I said `You told me you had never been fucked.'

`Master, yes, Master. That is true.'

`Your friend here has done you a favour. For the next week, he is going to fuck you before the entire group here every morning and every night. But you are not to fuck him until I give you permission. I think you have been fucking him. Am I right?'

`Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master.'

`Georgi, you will see to it. Come, Alexei, let's get back to the Lemon Palace.'

Normally, with the number of slaves working in the Palaces, and the farmlands, to say nothing now of the al-Kadir property, I rarely bump into slaves more than one or twice a month, with the exception of course of those who serve me daily at the Lemon Palace. However, Graham Hodson is so enthusiastic about the success of the kiwifruit planting that I have found myself now going down with regularity to the al-Kadir farmlands. So, it was that after breakfast one morning, we set off in two sand buggies, his being driven by Pavel, one of his favourite slaves, and mine by Bob Conrad, who did not want to see Kent Kialka's piano hours interrupted--Kent having driven me before a couple of times in the afternoons.

Graham was full of the joys of life showing me the amount of planting which had taken place in the previous ten days and was complimenting the irrigation work which Stan Mercer had laid down. At one point, Dieter came to ask him something about the next area to be planted and asking my permission for some moments, he walked off with the assistant Overseer. I was left standing observing a kofila plant the new kiwifruit. I first noticed the leg chains which made them ex-mercenary and ex-opal mine slaves.

Although the slaves would have seen me arrive in the distance, when at work such as this they merely carry on as it is their Swedish kofila supervisor who would call them to attention once he saw me approach. The supervisor was some distance away. One of the slaves on his hands and knees looked familiar and I realised that it was the slave from Topeka. I went closer to see what he was doing, and he realising that I was almost on top of him, looked sideways and up at me, and sprang to his feet and went `at display', as did the slave immediately beside him.

I have always felt that meeting strange slaves repeatedly is an act of fate.

`What are you doing this morning?' I said.

`Master, planting the kiwifruit plants as ordered, Master.'

`Show me what you do.'

Master, yes, Master,' and the two slaves dropped to their hands and knees. We dig a hole, Master, five to six inches deep, like this,' and with the side of an adze, the slave made a hole in the ground by merely scraping the soft sandy soil which had been previously prepared. `We take off the covering of the plant, put the plant in the hole, bring the soil around it, press the soil in, and measure off two feet for the next plant, Master. It is simple, Master.'

As the slave did this, I lowered myself to see what he was doing, placed my hand on his back and he hesitated fractionally in what he was doing and continued on. I ran my hand down his back and could feel the vertebrae of his spine. His back side was welt-free.

`You have not been caned recently.'

`Master, no, Master. Not since the opal mine. None of us have really, Master. A stroke or two, but nothing serious, Master.'

I let my hand drop down further into the crack between the slave's buttocks and felt his anus. It no longer had the firmness of ten days previously.

`You have now been broken, haven't you?'

The slave had not stopped working as we had spoken and said `Master, yes, Master. Sam here took my cherry as ordered and fucked me for the week as you said, Master.'

`Sam is your buddy?'

`Master, yes, Master. He is now, Master. Once he gets in, he is hard to get out, Master.'

It was the nearest that I had heard to a slave joke in a while.

`And what's your name, slave?'

`Ethan Logan, Master, if that name pleases you.'

`It does, Ethan, I do not change a slave's name as some Masters do.'

`Master, thank you. And... thank you for stopping to speak with me, Master.'

The slave was hesitant as if saying `thank you' was too much forwardness in a slave.

Turning to the other slave still working away as if I were not there, `Does Ethan let you fuck him willingly? What's your name?'

`Master, my name is Sam Madison. Yes, Master, after the first time Ethan was fucked, which was really difficult for him. He doesn't struggle any more as he has found that it can be nice.'

`And you two are now buddies?'

`Master, yes, Master. I fuck him in the morning and he fucks me at night.'

`There is more to sex than mere fucking as you will both learn in time. I insist on classes for sex techniques. It keeps a slave very happy when they can improve their sex lives.'

`Master?' Ethan said and I knew he had a question to ask.

`Slaves do not ask questions of their Master, and I hear a question coming. Help me up, I'm getting a cramp in my leg from crouching down like this.'

I noticed that both slaves used their forearms to help me to my feet as their hands were covered in soil and dirt.

Walk with me, both of you. You're from Kansas,' I said to Ethan. Where are you from,' I asked the other slave.

`Savannah, Master. Thank you for asking.'

`You two knew each other before coming to Dahra.'

`Master, we were on two other missions together before the one to Dahra.'

`What is the question you wanted to ask?' I said to Ethan.

`Master, is there ever any chance that we will be free or we or our families could buy our way out of your service?'

`No, even if I were to sell you, and I never sell my slaves, you would never be able to leave Dahra. You have paid a very high price for invading this sheikdom. Why, did you think you could buy your freedom?'

There was a moment's silence and Sam said, `I have over forty thousand dollars, Master, in an account and if I could I would buy my freedom with that. I have to sign personally in the bank in Switzerland to get that money out.'

`Nice try, Sam, but I know that banks in Switzerland require at least a quarter of a million dollars from a foreigner to open an account. Do you want to up the amount you are willing to pay for your freedom? And what of Ethan here? Will you leave him in Dahra to his destiny as a slave?'

`Master, sorry, Master. You are right. I have just over a quarter of a million in the account and I would buy Ethan's freedom, if he hasn't enough. I don't think he has.'

`Well, Ethan, how much have you stashed away?'

Ethan looked shocked at the turn of events.

`Master, about thirty thousand dollars, Master, in a bank in Kansas City.'

`So you would buy your freedom and leave Sam here in Dahra?'

`Master, no, Master. It is not like that. I don't know what I would do.'

`No, indeed, I don't think either of you have thought it out. Are both of you capable of keeping a secret?'

Both slaves nodded like children.

`I trust both of you. Now let me tell you. I sold the opal mine for two hundred million euro that is about two hundred and forty million dollars. Do you think that your money would make a difference to my wealth? Now, I have a question for both of you?'

Again the two nodded.

`Do both of you trust me as your owner and Master?'

The two looked at each other and again nodded, and Ethan said, `Master, yes, Master.'

`When both of you actually do trust me fully, come to me and I will have you each sign a power of attorney to hand over your money to me. That will be your initial act of trust.'

There was a shocked silence.

And Master,' Sam said, and if we don't.'

`Nothing, you will continue to plant kiwifruit.'

And Master,' Ethan said, if we do?'

`Nothing, you will continue to plant kiwifruit. That's what trust is all about. Now get back to work. You know where to find me when you are ready to trust me.'

I left two perplexed slaves behind me as I walked back to the sand buggy.

It was two days later that Georgi Gridov, my Overseer at the al-Kadir sent me a message with Jakes Peoples, my messenger that two slaves Ethan Logan and Sam Madison wished to talk to me and that I knew the reason.

I had Josh Green in the Caymans draw up the powers of financial attorney.

Sam was the one who was wary. His eyes darted around my study and he said, `Master, this is all about trust, isn't it? You're going to take our money and we'll never see it again, and you want us to trust you.'

`Yes, this is merely trust in a money matter. But do you know any of the ways a slave shows that he trusts his Master here in Dahra?'

Both shook their heads.

`The Master, for example, can hold out his hand like this, palm upwards, and the slave comes and lets his balls rest in the palm of his Master's hands.'

I held out my hand and kept looking at my palm for all of twenty seconds.

I saw Ethan move first and approach, and gently rest his genitals in the palm of my hand. I close my fingers around his genitals in the Dahran style to accept the act of homage to a Master. His single ball was soft and warm in the palm of my hand.

Sam followed suit and I noticed that he was getting a boner when I had relaxed my fingers.

`The signing of the powers of attorney gives neither of you special rights here at my Palaces. They give an attorney the right to access your money on your behalf. Now get back to work. You know the way back to al-Kadir. And Sam, Ethan, do me a favour, tell the other slaves who were mercenaries what you have done.'

What neither of the former mercenaries had realised was that I already knew of their bank accounts. The dossier on each slave revealed that he had come through an agency in Sofia, Bulgaria, and it took Josh Green very little time and comparatively little money to have the offices of the agency burgled and two hard disks copied in their entirety onto a single Firelite Smartdisk.

Each mercenary had nominated a bank for the transfer of payments and a next of kin in the event of death. It would be a matter of seeing if `disappearance' equated to death for the agency and if any balances remained in those accounts.

The morning following my conversation with Ethan and Sam, I had a visit from Georgi, the Overseer of the al-Kadir properties.

`Master, we had quite a fight last night in the sleeping quarters.'

`Anyone injured?'

`Three of the slaves. The two with whom you spoke were quite beaten up by four or five of the others, and one of the attackers has quite a black eye. Neither the slaves named Ethan or Sam are saying anything, and I thought I would talk with you before punishing them for fighting.'

`Find out which slaves were fighting. Have Alexei give each five strokes. You have a key for the leg chains?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Take the leg chains off the other mercenaries as they ask to see me over the coming days; send them to me the following morning in each case.'

`Yes, Master,' a bemused Georgi replied.

Over the following ten days, a further twenty of the former mercenaries asked to see me, came to the Lemon Palace, and stood of the veranda while I laid powers of attorney before them. I allowed them to ask their questions. I gave them no guarantees and merely said I wanted their trust.

One said, `Master, the leg chains were taken off Ethan and Sam. Was there a price for that?'

I smiled at the simplicity of the question.

`No, I merely had them taken off so that if they are going to be attacked by five or more slaves, they may be able to defend themselves better.'

The slaves looked at each other sheepishly. They knew of the attack on both the slaves and even maybe had participated in it. Each of the slaves was more than a little self-conscious in coming forward and putting their balls in the palm of my hand. More than a couple sported boners afterwards. End of Chapter 18 =========== Contact: e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories If not on the YahooGroups mailing list, simply send a blank email to Erotic_gay_stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com The Dahran series -- a fictional adventure story about the life and times of Sir Jonathan Martin -- comprises the following novels to date: 1. The Changed Life 2. The Reluctant Retrainer 3. The Market Offer 4. The Special Memories 5. The Dahran Way 6. The Dahran Rebuttals 7. The Seventh Desert 8. The Dahran Sands 9. The Time Line These novels are all serialised on Nifty (Gay -- Authoritarian) and on YahooGroups http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories