Dahran

This is the second chapter of part three of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.

Keywords:

authority, control, slavery, punishment, re-training, submission, loyalty

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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Contact points:

eMail: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com

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The Market Offer by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 2 - Proposal

A week later I was back sitting in the same room with the same diplomats. This time there was no facade of a reception. Although I had spent various unsettled nights which took all of Komil's, my favourite Uzbek slave, skills and attention to ease. However, I did not deceive Food and Drink, my two body slaves, who sensed that something was wrong for the whole week. They are the greatest barometers of feelings south of the North Pole.

Finally, I had convened a second Parliament of the slaves. I had once asked them previously what improvements could be made to the Aloe Palace and had been surprised at the positive suggestions.

When gym began one evening I first asked the overseers -- these are my managers of the household and stables - what type of slave should I not buy for the Aloe Palace, were I to increase the number of slaves. If that surprised them, the second question I put to them - which of the slaves should be sold from among those I owned - made them just look at me. Not one of the overseers, made a sales suggestion.

When I asked Aziz, the head of my household, as he knew what the Aloe Palace could effectively support, how many slaves the slave quarters could actually take, he said about ninety more slaves, and there were six quarters for overseers not filled. It was then I think that the overseers realised that something was really afoot.

There is a 25m pool attached to the Palace, which we all use and when swimming was about to begin, I had the overseers gather round my own twenty nine slaves and the twenty one Swedes.

I asked them first, that if I was to buy more slaves, what type of slave should I not buy.

The irrepressible Food said, `Lazy slaves like Mehmed and Mamoud' and got a laugh at the layabouts' expense, though to be fair those two did their share of the work, but certainly at their own pace.

There were no other ideas coming forward as I think no one wished to say that a slave should not be bought for the Aloe Palace.

So I prompted them by saving, `If I bought a slave who was murderer to work here as a slave?'

That question caused even further silence all round.

Bob, the Canadian slave, finally put up his hand and all eyes focussed on him.

`Master, everyone here lives a new life, a simple life in safety. No one of us would wish to lose that, nor at the same time deny it to another slave. Some of the slaves have known and lived lives of great danger with other Masters. Why, Master, would you buy a murderer who might hurt you yourself, or us?'

There was a general murmur of agreement around the pool area.

The Swedes were commenting away among themselves. So I asked them their opinion.

Bjorn, Gustav Ahlson's first slave and lover, said, `Master, we are only your guests here. It is not right for us to say who should or should not be here.'

No,' I countered, you have as much right as any of the others. Should I buy sick slaves, old slaves, slave who can no longer work, slaves with diseases?'

Bjorn almost interrupted by saying `Master, if a slave cannot even do simple fieldwork, there is not much point of him being here. He would be a burden to everyone else, and after a while, he would realise that, and resent both it and us. It is human nature which cannot change by being a slave.'

I then asked a last question, the one I had asked the overseers `Which slaves should be sold from among those now at the Aloe Palace.'

There was a deadly silence and Ali and Jiri the youngest of the slaves moved closer to each other. Ross, the English slave, finally put up his hand and said `Master, we are now a family of sorts here. No one would want to see a member of the family sold.'

That made me smile and I told him it was the answer that I had, in a way, been hoping for.

These and other thoughts had helped me put together a one-page proposal for the diplomats.

'Ambassadors, until I can see how this is going to work out, I will agree to help you under the following conditions which are non-negotiable as I have my own safety and that of my slaves to consider.'

`If your governments want to send prisoners to me, they will be delivered to one of two appointed dealers here in Dahra. They will stop being prisoners and become my slaves.'

`I would see a summary of each prisoner-slave file before the prisoner was sent.'

`As for the prisoners, they would be limited for the moment to 15 in number until we see how it works out and each prisoner must:

be male,

be under 35 years of age,

not have been incarcerated for violence of any sort,

be free of communicable disease, and

not be mentally ill.'

`As for your Governments, for each prisoner sent, I shall be paid one million euro in advance to cover my costs and expenses, which over the coming years are going to be considerable and the Government in question would never again attempt to contact the prisoner-slave in any way.'

`As for me, each prisoner will effectively be a slave on either of my properties. Each will be re-trained where necessary and follow the system in place at my Palace like the other slaves. If ever the need should arise to have any of them removed from my properties, I would return them to the dealer with instructions to contact the government in question, instead of selling them.'

Whether my demands to the EU governments were minimal, or whether the ambassadors were expecting more, the deal was agreed on behalf of their respective Governments and fifteen prisoners would be transferred the following thirty days.

My account at the branch received fifteen transfers of one million euro. I received fifteen two page files -- only one face or head and shoulders photograph -- of students, two journalists, a taxi-driver, a computer whiz guy, a salesman (what had he been selling?) and so on, in essence a mixed bag.

As I had intimated to the ambassadors, it was much more convenient for me to have the prisoner-slaves delivered to the dealers at the al-Mera and al-Qatim slave auction rooms, processed and given a period of initial training there at the EU governments' expense and then sold on to me exclusively at an agreed fixed price, which was pure profit for the dealers as none of the usual `lifting' expenses had to be paid.

I knew the dealers would be discreet, that's their metier. Once the new arrivals were fitted with their GPS ankle bracelets, processed with their SIN numbers and pushed through a fortnight of initial training, the dealers would call me to advise of an exclusive item ready for delivery.

It meant an arms-length approach. The prisoners would know of no deal between me and their respective governments, be initially trained, and I would have legitimate ownership papers, even down to the short bios.

As the transactions continued over the months, the dealers became even more obsequious to a me as customer on this scale, pocketing as they were those nifty handling fees.

I asked Yuriy, my stables overseer, what would he do with some more field hands and he said that there was always plenty to do in the fields and out on the farm generally. Yuriy's title was an old one in each Dahra household from the times when stables of horses and camels had to be maintained. Nowadays, I retained it though his work was really that of a farm manager.

The Aloe Palace stood on two hundred and fifty hectares, almost a square mile, albeit of desert type soil which was being reclaimed where it had not been used for growing before. One of my great pleasures was to plant, over time, a double line of four thousand poplars all around the borders of the Aloe Palace at ten feet apart which in time would rise to some thirty or so feet, an inside line of four thousand palm trees, and in front of all of these a border thirty feet wide of the Aloe Socotrina plant with its serrated leaves always pointing to the skies.

With the increased supply of water from the Lime Palace wells, and simple water irrigation system, they were kept permanently watered and grew superbly in the climate. The result was that within months verdant green surrounded my property, and the property itself was protected from the harsher desert winds.

Yuriy did not ask how or when or why about the new slaves, though the questions must have been burning in his throat. He merely said, `We shall all be ready, Master, when you are ready.'

I then spoke with Farouq al-Hamdi and explained that I was in the market for some ten slaves or so. He immediately assumed that it was for the new property because of the discovery of water on it. I said that if he were disposing of any older slaves, that I would be interested in them. I explained that though farming was not as heavy work as mining; all his slaves would have been well trained by heavy work.

Farouq said that he would have a word with his Lebanese general manager at the mine, who rang me back the following morning, to say that if I wanted some seven slaves who were coming to the end of their useful life in the mines that I could have them. I asked a price and he said that it was up to me. I asked what he would expect to get at the slave auctions and he said perhaps six to eight thousand euro each. I said as long as they had no communicable diseases. They had none that the GM knew of.

I told him to send the seven round for inspection which he did that afternoon together with their respective files. After a five-hour drive through the desert they looked a sorry lot when they arrived mid-afternoon. But then they were after all accustomed to the heat of the sun working twelve hours a day in the opal mine. So perhaps a long hot journey in a poorly ventilated van was not all that bad for them.

Each of the seven looked bad and they say that first impressions are lasting. However, I had seven of my own slaves to hand and told them that they had an hour to clean and shave their new charges, to have them pissed, shat and showered and their body hair cut in the style of the Palace. Fair dues to my lot, the seven mine slaves were almost unrecognisable when cleaned up -- nevertheless a lot more than a little on the scrawny side, but well muscled and no body fat whatsoever.

Only one of them understood English, but all understood basic Arabic. Each of their backs, though now clean, showed a lot of whip marks. That I thought would be a good reminder to any new prisoner-slave, and indeed to my own lot, of just what could ultimately happen for stepping out of line.

Their private tackle was nothing to write home about and all had been extensively used at to the rear either by their own fellow slaves or guards. I did not know and did not really want to enquire.

While all of them according to their files would have been at the opal mines for between five to six years, they all looked far older than their thirty two to forty two years suggested that they were.

I called in Greg, my training overseer, and explained the situation of the mines slaves. I told him to apply the first day of training techniques to each and to stop when each broke. I did not expect any to resist just one day of retraining. I was not wrong.

Two broke on the bastinado of their feet, four when their right ball was hit with the small whip of corded twine and the last when his left ball was similarly whipped.

Greg told me that he had Jess, his assistant. standing by to witness the procedure and to learn, but that Jess had not taken part. It was as if Greg were asking for my approval of his initiative, which in fact I gave.

Power,' I commented, must be seen to be exercised to be both appreciated and, at times, feared. It must also be seen that it could be exercised at will, even were it not exercised at all.'

By the time I was ready to go in to dinner at eight, the seven opal mine slaves were lined up for inspection after their breaking.

Rarely have I seen a quicker dropping to the knees and an obeisance being made when I had ever arrived at an inspection.

I could but murmur a Well done, Greg' to the overseer as he stood proudly by his retrained slaves to whom I said You now know what less than a one single hour of retraining entails. The full programme is eighty seven full days of eight hours each day. Does any one of your want further retraining?'

There was a slave chorus of `No, Master, no' and that was that.

Brought into the slave quarters, I inspected each anally as they knelt on the examination table with their butts in the air -- all this as a small part of my droit de seigneur. The mine slaves all managed to produce semen from their massaged prostates, which I tasted and had its characteristics annotated down. Each then licked up from the examination table their remaining semen, and made way for the next one.

The following day I went to al-Mera first, it being the furthest away of the slave ports and looked at what the slave dealer had in stock. The next auction would be over a week away and I was not looking for prime stock, but merely to see what he had.

I had told him not to include any male over thirty five in the inspection line -- he knew already that I did not buy females or children - or any who were ill or diseased. He tried to look hurt that I could ever even thing that he would sell me a diseased or ill slave, but I did not even respond to the hurt look.

There were forty two slaves and I immediately eliminated five who looked either infirm or well over thirty five. I had forgotten to say to the slave dealer to exclude the really young teenagers of whom there were some twelve.

The inspection line dropped to twenty five. There is really no true way to choose a slave only to go by your own experience and gut feeling. Two seemed disconnected from his world and another, if not mentally ill, then getting there fast.

I asked for them to be lined up from the shortest to the tallest, ranging from 5 feet 6 to 6 foot 3. All were on display' with their chest stuck out and arms behind the back of their necks. I had not told the dealer how many slaves I was looking for, just some farm slaves.'

I went from one to the next merely taking hold of each scrotum, feeling the balls either individually or together. If there was a good scrotal reaction to the slight squeezing pressure I exerted on each ball or pair of balls, I said to the slave-dealer, `possible' and he put a tick again the slave on his list. I really did not want slaves with the new prosthetic testicles which were impossible to detect with microsurgery now what it was and so advanced, unless you actually squeezed the testicles themselves.

It may sound terrible but I chose one slave because he had the most perfect nipples -- definitely a night's fun and games with that guy - and another because he had a classic rugged jaw, - two `possibles'.

In this way, I quickly arrived at the last slave who was taller than I by a couple of inches. He seemed to be mid-twenties and when I put my hand on his scrotum as I had done the other, the most extraordinary thing happened, he burst out in tears.

I certainly had not squeezed the beloved little boys' in his tight scrotum. The tears just rolled down his cheeks as he tried to hold in his sobs, still at display.'

The slave-dealer looked annoyed and said, `He cries a lot. He will get over it very quickly. I will have him lightly flogged before the next auction. I will not be able to sell him if there are marks on him.'

The slave-dealer had already written off this last slave of being of any interest to me. As we were speaking in Arabic, and the slave looked European, with a reasonable tan, and a band of white flesh around his waist where he had worn a bathing suit while in the sun, I said Who is he and where does he come from?' The dealer checked his notes, pointed out his name to me, and said, He is Dutch. A computer peripherals salesman.'

Why are you crying, Wik?' I said in English. I did not hurt you surely by just touching your balls.'

He blinked and swallowed a number of times, and said `You speak English. You know my name.'

`Yes, it's on the dealer's file. Why are you crying?'

`I am lost. I don't know where I am. I think I am going to be sold as a slave. I have done nothing wrong. I don't know why I am here.'

Wik had a clear sense of identity and the loss of his personal liberty. He would either quickly adapt or be dead in a year. Such was the comment I had heard previously about such slaves. On the other hand, he had asked nothing for himself, unlike the subtle self-selling technique of Sergio, my Brazilian, who had erected at will for me or the utterance of Stan, the New Zealand slave, who had promised obedience.

`Stand still, Wik, I am just going to inspect you again. I am not going to hurt you.'

I checked two fine heavy balls -- they were more than `little boys' in perfectly rounded dark pink scrotum - and a beautiful thick cut seven-inch cock, its cockhead large and its corona or flange truly splendid. Just touching the flange provoked a slight hardening of the cock in my hand. His chest was rising and falling with the emotion of his feelings. His heart under my hand was hammering in his chest with apprehension and fear.

`Normally, Wik, I would have a slave bend over and examine him from behind, but one last question and then I'm finished, are you a virgin back there or have you had someone already up your backside.'

He looked absolutely shocked and petrified. He did not need to give the negative answer he did.

And by the way, Wik, to avoid a beating in the future, always say Master' first, when answering a question. Do you understand?'

`Master, yes.'

Very literal, I thought. Very Dutch.

`Possible,' I said in Arabic and the dealer noted Wik on his list.

I asked the slave-dealer how many possibles' he had on the list. There were thirteen in all. I think I shocked him when I said, What is the list asking price for the thirteen? State too much and I won't take a single one. I am on my way to al-Qatim on the way home.'

`Master, a moment, while I just add up the prices.'

It took more than a moment, and I was offered a glass of good champagne while the calculation was made.

`Master, two hundred and eight six thousand euro is the full list price. The Master is interested in all thirteen? If so, I would be happy to take off 10% off the price. Two hundred and fifty seven thousand euro.'

`Shall we say and even quarter of a million now. And delivery this afternoon.'

`The Master strikes a hard bargain, but it is always a pleasure to do business with you.'

I gave him five Bank drafts for fifty thousand euro each in his office suite and asked to see the Dutch slave.

Wik was brought to the office suite. He looked a lit more composed. I dismissed the slave-dealer who as usual would have been all ears.

`Wik, you are no longer lost. You are in the Middle East in the Sheikdom of Dahra. You have been sold to me as a slave and I am now your new Master. I am sure you have done nothing wrong, but were in a wrong place at a wrong time. I don't know why you are here, but I believe that Fate has had a hand in bringing you here. I will see you later this evening with the other slaves I have bought. Does any of this makes sense to you?'

He nodded and replied `Master, yes.'

Placing my hands on his tall shoulders, I pushed him down gently towards the floor, `Now, Wik, this is you first act of obedience to me.'

Pulling our my cock, which was beginning to get hard even at the thought of what was going to happen, I said `kiss my penis, Wik, as my new slave recognising me as your new Master.'

`Master, I cannot.'

`Yes, you can Wik, it is perfectly clean. It is like kissing the back of my hand.'

Closing his eyes, his lips barely touched my foreskin.

`Well done, Wik, things are never as difficult to do as we sometimes make them out to be.'

On route back to the Aloe Palace, I stopped at the slave-dealer's auction rooms in al-Qatim and purchased a further ten slaves, bringing to thirty those whom I had purchased over the two days.

Now it was a case of retraining the balance of these which Greg and Jess would have to do reasonably quickly, but overall apart from some newbies, the majority of the recent purchases were of those who had already been in slavery for some time.

My lover, Komil, was becoming more and more skilled and very very attentive in bed. He was as gentle with me as he was strong. Over the past weeks, when I had not topped, he had. He loved clearly the feel of his cock going into me slowly and then being pulled out quickly. It was a technique which he developed to perfection, and that usually left me exhausted.

I remember that he said, at one stage between bouts of love making, `Master buy more slaves today?'

I had just bought Stan his two Polish lovers.

Yes,' I said, two Poles and a Brazilian. The Brazilian is very beautiful, no?'

Suddenly, he jumped up from beside me and was between my legs on the bed. Putting my hands over my head and whooshing my legs up over his shoulders, I could feel the tip of his cockhead about to enter me yet again. He had not cum so far that night, so his ten inches of prime Uzbek flesh were long and hard. He knew perfectly well where and at what angle my prostate was up my butt, and his hardness slid into me and started to repeat over and over again `No-Bra--zil--yan!'

On each syllable, his cockhead would hit my prostate either going in or coming back. There would have been a mere two to three internal inches of penile movement.

By the third `No-Bra--zil--yan!' I would have readily disposed of the Crown Jewels were they mine to offer to the very first passer-by to offer me a eurocent.

By the fifth No-Bra--zil--yan' I was shouting NO-Bra--zil--yan!'

I am not sure I heard the Master, NO-Bra--zil--yan'

`NO-BRA-ZIL-YAN!'

`Good, Master. No space there for Komil and Brazilian together' and he touched my aching back passage, and we both started to convulse in laughter until there were tears and gasps for breath.

I looked at my lover and realised just how much I truly loved him, his uncomplicated nature and life and just how much he loved me in his own way.

Putting the palm of his hand on my chest hand, I said Komil belongs to the Master' and putting my hand on his chest, I said The Master belongs to Komil.'

I awoke in the middle of the night. Komil's arms were still around me. I was scooped up against his body. His breathing was regular in its rise and fall. He looked so content and so was I.

The following evening I was quite emotionally exhausted after a very full day at the Bank, both physically and sexually I was in need of release. I did something I normally do not do, I told Komil to bring up one of the new slaves bought that day at the auction rooms. It was in a way the having of a piece of rough and raw sex with an untrained slave.

Apart from Wik, the Dutch slave, the one who kept popping back into my mind was the guy with the perfect nipples. His name was Scott and I told Komil to have him ready as my playmate for the night..

Scott was one of those strapping jock types normally found in the mid-west US universities, but he had never been near higher education. He was an Iowa farm worker according to his file, and twenty seven years old, sold to `lifters' by his farm employer who apparently wanted to save himself paying the cost of Scott's employment.

When I got upstairs to the bedroom suite, he was standing at display' beside my bed, with Komil also at display' beside him. Scott's pert little nipples were a little fuller than I remembered them, and looking at Komil, I knew that Komil had been working on them sensitising them for me. Komil was very thoughtful in that respect always.

Though not anyway near as tall as Komil, Scott was a well-built man, clearly who had been used to the outdoors and farm work. His now tight crew-cut and shaven body with only the hair in his pits and a small amount around his pubes still left, though well trimmed.

`At rest', I ordered both and Komil came to help me undress.

I noticed that Scott appeared very nervous. So I went over to him and put a hand on his chest. It was very warm and dry, and I could feel ever so slight a stubble of shaven hair chest. His heart was hammering like a bellows.

`Scott, why are you nervous?'

He swallowed before he answered.

`I am not sure what you want me to do tonight, Master. I am not sure that I am going to be able to please you in bed.'

`Is that all? Well, stop worrying and stop being nervous. I am going to get washed now and when I come out, you will tell me the three things you like most and the three things you like most about sex. Three and three. Can you remember that? And give me answers when I come out?

He nodded and said, `Yes, Master.'

I went into the bathroom and Komil followed to wash me down after the day.

When I came out quite refreshed -- Komil had a way of massaging my scalp from above which was quite extraordinarily relaxing - Scott was still `at rest' though his cock had gone to boner status and was sticking out.

`Have you been a naughty boy playing with yourself, Scott?' I said looking at his boner.

He went red as beetroot, `No, Master. It's just when I think of sex, I always get hard.'

`Always?'

`Always, Master, without fail.'

`Well then, first things first. What three things do you like most?'

`Farming, Master. I love everything about a farm. I love seeing things being planted and growing.'

`Is that three things or one thing, Scott?'

`Oh, that's just one thing, Master. I...I don't know if love is the right word. But I really like one of the other guys, Bryce, you bought this morning at the auction room. We have been together now for about three weeks and we look out for each other.'

Seeing my puzzled expression as I tried to place this Bryce, he described him to me and I remembered buying him at the same sale as Scott himself. He had been the guy with the firm Hollywood jawbone. It is strange that the companionship of `looking out for each other' could even be classified in Scott's mind as love, but then there are a million and one levels of love.

`Do you top or bottom or both, Scott?'

Again, the blush.

`The truth, Master? -- The truth is that I have had really very little sex with women, and with Bryce, we just like to jerk off together and he just likes me to suck him off. He says I am getting very good at that. So, with a man, I don't really know yet if I can top or bottom as you say, that's why I am nervous. That's if I understand what you mean, Master.'

Scott looked worried as if not having a huge amount to sexual experience somehow made him wrong in his own mind in the scheme of things.

`So, farming. This great guy Bryce. What's the third thing, Scott?' -- Bryce, in times, became of the Palace's English teachers.

`Master, I have been trying to put it into words in my own mind, but I can't. This place is different to the holding places I have been over the past while and different to the training centre and the auction rooms. I haven't seen any whips or chains here and everyone of the slaves here seems happy and to have a purpose. Even when being trained today, I was just asked to honestly say that I accepted you as the Master. What I am trying to say, Master, is that I think I am going to like being your slave, and that believe you me, is something I never thought I would hear myself say. Not in a month of Sundays.'

`Tell me more, Scott, what the three things you like about sex most of all?'

I had started to stroke the knob of his cut cock, letting my thumb barely touch the fraenulum underneath its tip. He sighed and his cock started to rise like Cleopatra's Needle towards the perpendicular. One healthy stud was Scott Billins.

`I like being sucked off, Master, and having my nips sucked. I like sucking Bryce off because it gives him such pleasure. That drives me simply mad, but what I really like. Neither of us fuck each other. Master...'

His words dried up.

`What, Scott?'

`Master, before I came here I always thought I was straight, but if I say what I really really like you are going to think I am some sort of pervert or the likes.'

`No, Scott, believe you me, I won't' and I gave his glans and fraenulum two further little rubs which made him gasp.

`Master, I love when someone licks me back there. You know. Where the sun doesn't shine.'

`You mean on your butt-hole, on your anus.'

`Yes, Master,' he answered softly with another blush, not wanting to make eye contact.

`Scott, I am sure you are very straight. But here we have buddy sex and the rimming you really like is a lot more common and not at all the perverted thing that you would think. So let me see how good you are at sucking me and while you are doing that, what would you say if Komil here were to lick you a little back there.'

For the next twenty minutes, Scott Billins sucked me like a calf on a cow's teat. He was soft and gentle. His lips were hard and firm. His throat was just the right distance away. Every so often, he would gasp as Komil rimming him in a different spot or combination of spots, as he played with each of Scott balls hanging between his widely splayed legs.

In all of this sucking, Scott's eyes never left my face as he gauged the reaction of his lips and tongue and throat on my rock hard cock. If there was a natural way of sucking cock, then Scott Billings had it in spades. He then brought his teeth ever so gently into play, and when they barely raked over the flange of my glans on each withdrawal, had I been les experienced in holding of my orgasm, it would have sent me over the top.

I wet my finger tips and played an orchestral score on Scott's nipples. His gasps, at times, interrupted his sucking as, in his inexperience, he could not concentrate on pleasuring and being pleasured both at the same time.

At one point, I took his mouth off my cock to give him a rest, and licked his jawbone and down into the cleft of his throat. He almost lost it at that point and I said to him, `Scott, it is not only your nipples which are sensitive.'

`No, Master,' he replied with a grin as I guided his head back to my throbbing cock.

Komil judged his moment as well, and with one quick deep thrust of his tongue into Scott's most private orifice combined with a firm hand motion on his cock, I blasted off and Scott as well releasing multiple groans and ejaculations.

When Scott had recovered his breath, I had him sixty-nine me to chest level so that I could suck his nipples. He was immediately hard again. I motioned to Komil to come behind him and to insert that throbbing roller pin of a cock into Scott, who took it again with more than just a groan.

Komil and I matched our rhythms and within ten minutes, Scott was erupting again, and as he did, Komil shot deep into his bowels five or six depth-charges of ejaculatory semen.

For someone who had never really bottomed before, if his own admission were true, and I had not real reason to doubt it, Scott did exceptionally well in his submissiveness.

When I awoke early in the morning, Scott was half intertwined around Komil, whose antennae picked up my getting up and who padded into the bathroom behind me.

Scott never woke up for the duration of our morning ablutions and we left him asleep.

At inspection later that morning, I could not resist saying to him, `You look very fresh this morning, Scott, you must have slept well last night.'

The blush hit his cheeks and both of us knew that that last night would not be the last night that he pleasured me, or I him.

By the following evening, Greg informed me that only one slave had lasted the full first five procedures of the first day's retraining. Why was I not surprised to hear that it was the Dutch slave, Wik? Despite his tears, he was tough. But the following morning on being brought in for day two's training, his courage evaporated and submitted to answering that he recognised me as his Master. The retraining was stopped there and then, to Greg and Jess's disappointment but grudging respect.

Over the next few days, Rolf, the Swiss-German gym trainer with the assistance of Dumi, the Moldavian, organised a series of two-hour sessions to gym work and swimming to really push the endurance and strength of the new arrivals. Some of the slaves were quite amazed at find that they could use the swimming pool. Eight of them could not swim, so, classes were arranged for them, which surprised them even more.

On the gym treadmills, each slave would run hard for fifteen minutes, some being lathered in perspiration, the more fit perspiring freely with chests heaving. But Rolf had a great feel for the potential development of each, but of these farm slaves, I did not take a single one to my bed, with the exception of Scott and Bryce.

It pleased me no end to see that Rolf was becoming so confident in handling the slaves; even to the extent of inserting small two inch black butt plugs in each of his charges to help them acquire a better sense of their bodies while on the treadmills.

In some cases, Rolf required Dumi's assistance to get even that size butt plugs inserted, but had developed quite a nice technique of resting his fingers on the nipples of the bent down slave and saving to Dumi `On the count of one' and immediately pinching the nipples sharply, making the slave to temporarily forget to clench his sphincter muscles and so allow Dumi with a single quick push to insert the plug. Then with a quick and confident pat on the butt, he would be on to the next anxiously waiting slave.

I did a couple of other small but significant things over the next couple of days while waiting for the first of the prisoner-slaves to arrive. I had Taspells, the jewellers, send me out from London a further forty of the gold loop necklaces which each of my slaves wore once out of training. I would actually need only of five, but I could keep the others in reserve.

Calling all to the courtyard after evening gym and swimming, I presented a very proud Sergio, Jerzy, Marek, Yedo and Komil with their insignia of loyalty to me and of their training.

Before all, I called out Stan and also Rolf who had been in charge of the gym. I took Stan's ivory fly-swish from him and gave him an onyx one to indicate the authority he had as an overseer -- looking after the water and the fabric of the properties with Marek and Jerzy.

I handed Stan's former ivory fly-swish to Rolf with the comment `Are you ready for this, Rolf?' He could only nod and looked over at Dumi, his lover, who was bursting with pride.

It was at this point that I think I realised that I now had a number of categories of slaves: overseer slaves, personal body and garden slaves, farm slaves, guest slaves and soon to arrive, prisoner-slaves.

The overseer slaves enjoyed their own quarters and a personal companion or lover, the guest slaves rotated according to their own schedule from Gustav Ahlson, my general manager at the bank, and had all been given a companion lover among my slaves, the body and garden slaves were personal to me for my own pleasure.

I would have to see how the prisoner-slaves settled in.