Dahran

This is the fifth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, submission, gay, sex

This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.

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The Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 5 - The Australian -- Day 10

Food and Drink, his overnight minders, delivered Roge Harte to me just as I was about to sit down to breakfast. It was just over a week since I had seen him close up. I let him stand there at `display' once he had made his obeisance, nice and quickly this time. It's nice to have a living picture of warm bronzed flesh in your breakfast room for your viewing pleasure. Food and Drink went off about their other duties.

'Well, Roge, how are you settling in?'

'Ok, I guess, mate.'

'Roge, you know that it is either 'Master' or 'Boss' when you speak to me. Have you forgotten your first session in the retraining room already?'

'Sorry, Boss. I won't forget again. Honest, mate, I mean Boss, I won't.'

Yes, indeed, I thought to myself he would not forget being strung up for just an hour with alligator clamps on his nipples for company. Roge was not the sharpest pencil in the pack, but with a body like his, I was not buying into his brainpower.

'Are you getting used to our routine?'

'Yes, Boss.'

'And who sucked you off this morning, may I ask?

He half-blushed and said, 'The guy called Drink. And then the other guy, Food, sucked him off right in the middle of the showers.'

'And last night, did you have either of them, or did you just let them do all the work?'

'You mean, mate, did I fuck them? No way!'

'Mate? That's five laps round the Palace, Roge, when we are finished talking.'

'Sorry, Boss. It's very difficult to remember not to say it. I wasn't trying to insult you, you know.'

'I know that, Roge, but that's not a respectful manner of addressing your Master.'

I think he was about to object to that last thing I said, because if I was the Master, then he was the slave and he was in denial.

'So, tell me, what did you do yesterday for example, Roge? What did you do?'

'You mean after the shower and everything in the morning,...Boss?'

The Boss just about made it into the sentence. He swallowed hard.

'I was with Bob and Jess and they brought me to a gang who were laying down irrigation pipes around a field. We dug the holes, put down the pipes, connected them up and as I was the new guy there, I switched on the water...and we just stood around in the jets of water until we cooled down.'

Each one sixth of an acre of the Lime Palace land being reclaimed was having irrigation pipes put down underneath the surface of the ground to give it a daily dousing with water when the crops got finally planted on it.

I liked the way Roge had said 'we dug' -- it implied to me at least that he was beginning to identify with the other slaves, even if he 'was the new guy there.'

'And what then?'

'When the sun got too hot, we came in and I helped Jess make up his pigeon boxes.'

Jess Tollman was making boxes such as you would see in the reception area of a hotel, to take the slaves individual necklaces at night. We had decided to discontinue the use of the pegs where they merely hung them before.

'...and then he brought me over to the gym. You have one great gym here, Boss, I have never seen anything like it.'

I could see Roge's obvious interest here. It was in the way he spoke and the way his eyes sparkled. The gym was beside the swimming pool and could cater for up to two hundred slaves training and swimming at any one time. Rolf Hanzer, the Swiss-German slave, was my gym instructor. A former ski instructor himself, he had not only the best buns around, until Roge Harte had arrived, but he was clued into all things about fitness. The gym alone and its equipment had cost almost a million euro. But it was worth every eurocent of it. It kept the slaves not only very happy; it kept them very fit.

'This Rolf guy, he put me through a workout for over two hours and I thought I was in heaven. And do you know what he says, Boss, when I have run and press-upped my guts into the floor each day? 'Maybe', he said.

'Maybe what' I said.

'Maybe I can get you fit', he says and then he says things like 'Now do a hundred lengths in the pool' and he walks off. He didn't even ask the first time if I could swim!'

'Roge, I think he knew you were Australian. All Australians swim. Ergo.'

'What's 'ergo', Boss?'

'Nothing, Roge. Don't worry your head about it. You just do what Rolf tells you to do and any of the other overseers for that matter. Now for this 'mate' business earlier on, what do you think your punishment should be?'

'Punishment for calling you 'mate', Boss?'

'No, Roge, for forgetting to call me 'Master' or 'Boss' on at least three occasions in the past two minutes, as you were told to do.'

'Do I have a choice, Boss? If so, anything that does not involve hanging around the place like a fruit bat with clips on my nipples.'

'How about a run five times round the Palace, before I finish breakfast and these two slices of toast?'

'Yer'on, ma...Boss' and off he shot like a ferret across a field.

The run I calculated in my mind would be just under a mile and a half. Roge was back panting and sweating in just over six minutes. As he came dashing through the door, I popped the last bit of toast in my mouth. I had not had the heart to eat it until he arrived.

'See, Boss,' he said between gulps of air, 'I bloody well knew I could do it.'

So, Roge liked to be given his little challenges, did he?

'OK, Roge, come round here and let me get some of this Aloe milk onto your head and scalp before you go out again. Even those few minutes in the sun have started to burn you. Where else, Roge, did we use this Aloe milk last week, I can't seem to remember?' -- oh, what devious lies we tell, at times!

'Down on my back, Boss and across my bums.'

'Ah, yes, I remember now. Here let me start. Your bum has got burned yesterday with all the field work?'

'No, Boss, not at all'.

The perspiration was now beginning to steam of Roge's body and for all intents, he looked like a young god who had just walked out of a river or a lake.

'Kneel down beside me, Roge and I'll work the Aloe milk into your scalp', which I kneaded in for some minutes.

What Roge did not know, as indeed many do not, is that the scalp is a particular fine erogenous zone. By the time I had finished, his penis was engorged and half tumescent.

'Now turn around, Roge and I'll do your lower back'.

I lazily rubbed in the white sap of Aloe into Roge's lower back and bums. The feel of his hard toned flesh under my fingers was exciting enough for me to feel a hardness starting in my groin.

'How far into your crack, do you want me to go, Roge? You say.'

'Just where it's getting sunburned, Boss' he said a little hoarsely.

'Right.'

For three or four minutes, far far longer than necessary, I massaged and rubbed in the Aloe sap. When I had finished I turned him round and he had a boner to end all boners. The tip of his cock head was pushing through the foreskin. Its piss-hole was wet with precum. Of course, I knew he would be like that; I had been touching at least three of the erogenous zones in his lower back and upper thighs.

'I thought you said, Drink has taken care of you this morning, Roge.'

'He did, Boss,' he said looking down at his boner and breathing deeply.

'I think you need to be taken care of again. Now clasp your hands behind your neck. It's called the 'display' position. Close you eyes. Do not open them until I tell you to and think you are on a desert island. Got all of that Roge.'

I could see he had, but he said 'Yes, Boss' all the same.

I took his cock head and shaft into my mouth in one full uninterrupted flowing movement, pulling back the foreskin as far back down the shaft as it went. As I pulled back my lips up his shaft, I let my teeth touch ever so lightly the skin beside his corona and my lips were tight as they went over the corona itself.

I let my hand slide up between his legs and start a light frottage, just at the back of his balls. He did not object at all. One of my fingers slid back and over his clenched anus a number of times. But apart from it being tightly clenched, Roge made no move to back off.

My lips went a further once, twice, three times over the purple head of his glans and Roge Harte's cock exploded, as if a gusher of oil being brought home. It did not last. It could not last. He had not the experience to hold it back or to hold it in. Oh, what a delight it was going to be to teach this Australian athlete control of his own very formidable sexual organ and its function!

'Roge, you can open your eyes now.'

He was breathing as if he just run round the Palace again.

'Thanks, Boss. My legs are weak.'

'Who would have believed you, Roge, had you told your mates a month ago, that you would be standing bollocks naked getting your second blowjob of the day from a guy at eight o'clock in the morning and liking it? I don't think you would have believed it yourself!'

He looked slightly bemused with himself, but for me, his tenth day of training was to my mind already a success in that first, he was accepting orders more readily and had accepted a blowjob from me without batting an eyelid -- well, difficult actually when your eyes are closed.

`We'll have to think of something for you to do, Roge, when your basic slave training is over in some weeks time. Maybe something inside packing the vegetables, or out with the gangs in the fields -- you seemed to have enjoyed laying the pipes, or maybe in the gym. I think, Rolf will be looking for an assistant gym instructor, but you might not like that all the time.'

`The gym, Boss. I'd love that.'

Roge Harte had not the guile or the skill to conceal either his emotions or his thoughts. It was one of the things I liked about my rough diamond.

`We'll see, Roge. It depends how your training goes.'

I sent Roge off with Jess and Bob again to continue on the next patch of field they had been working on the previous day and I summoned Rolf to put a full gym and swim training programme together for my Aussie. I wanted him on first name terms with every piece of equipment in our very well stocked gym, developing in particular his upper body and stomach areas.

I asked Rolf what would he think of Roge Harte as an assistant.

`An excellent choice, Boss, even now. But when I'm finished with him, he will be a superb choice.'

I discovered indirectly that my telephone call to Tariq al-Akhri about Aziz's manumission had reminded Tariq, though he did not say it at that time, I had never actually met the Sheik of Dahra himself, although I was now almost two years in Dahra. I was pleasantly surprised therefore to receive an invitation to a state banquet some days afterwards to celebrate the county's national day.

I asked Gustav Ahlson, the general manager at the Bank to fill me in, as he had been in the country almost a quarter of a century. The sheikdom had no army to speak of so there were no military parades on the day itself, just a morning meeting with the Sheik of foreign ambassadors to present greetings, free attendance at camel racing in the afternoon, a fireworks celebration in the port in the evening and then a state dinner, which he had actually attended once about ten years previously.

On the day of the dinner, Tariq had the Declaration of Freedom sent round. It was no more than a single page requiring the signature of the monarch and he told me to bring it to the banquet with me -- that was when he showed his hand in getting me an invite to the banquet being held there.

Although the Sheik has a 'small' palace in the capital city itself for administrative and daily work, his home is some ten miles out the North Road as it is called. It is situated on three thousand acres of greenery that must cost the proverbial arm and a let to keep moist and manicured in the unbelievable Dahran heat.

My arrival in the Bank's Rolls merely showed the wealth of those who had arrived before me and of those being driven up behind. Every conceivable model and make of luxury limousine and car were parked in two large car parks leading up to the Palace. The preferred colour was red, followed by dark blues.

We, those other guests who happened to be arriving at the same moment as I, were brought in to an inside Palace area which would have comfortably accommodated a football field. Each person or couple seemed to have a personal minder who summoned over a slave with a pre-prandial drink.

I say `slave' because although the one who served me had a short, loose fitting, pantaloon type breeches, I could not fail to notice the titanium GPS - geodesic satellite positioning - bracelet on the right ankle.

It seemed to be the minder's job, his name was not offered nor did I ask, to get me in, to get me a drink and then to introduce me to some people I might know. These turned out to be the French and British ambassadors.

I did a quick head count by the twenties and thought in my initial calculation that there must be around four to five hundred people present, some in Arab dress, some in western dress, some even in formal evening garb. Tariq had told me to come in formal evening dress and not to forget to wear my decoration.

I had been given a 'K' -- made a Knight Commander of St. Michael and St. George -- yes, those who chased Satan from heaven and who slew the dragon -- so I proudly suited up and put on the starred decoration with the 'promise of a better age to come' in its Latin legend surround together with its sash across my chest.

The visibility of the decoration, which I never wear, was not lost on Sir Graham, the British ambassador.

I realised I had made a mistake about the number present when I was sipping a glass of a perfectly chilled non-alcoholic apéritif. Each person present had a minder and there were certainly enough slaves present also for it to be on parity. The gathering would therefore be of around a hundred and fifty or so.

Precisely on the dot of eight o'clock, the golden double doors at the end of the assembly area, I could think of no other name for it, opened and the Sheik came in with an entourage including various of his wives.

I noticed Abdou al-Akhri among the second or third line of the entourage.

In an anti-clockwise direction the Sheiks did a smooth round of the room and passed us by, with the murmur of 'ambassadors' to the two at my sides and a small bow of the head to me which I reciprocated as a half-bow from the waist.

I heard the Sheik speak in German to two people further on and then he completed the round of the room in what must have been less than three minutes -- a Middle Eastern pressing of the flesh.

The golden doors at the end of the room opened again and we prepared to follow the Sheik and his entourage in. I noticed that each guest seemed to be marshalled into a line with a minder on the right-hand side, thus avoiding the need of a floor plan or table plan, so to speak.

Although there was no apparent order to me, obviously there was. The ambassadors did not move though the minders were at hand and looking at the flow of disappearing guests.

There was a slight nod of a head from a person over by the golden doors--aha! the head of banqueting, if I did not err--and the minders of the two ambassadors were indicating with their right hands that it was time to proceed.

Sir Graham looked at me and I looked at my minder who was not moving, so Sir Graham moved off with his French colleague.

It was a difficult moment. Had I been forgotten? Two others with their decorations on them were going in and then, my minder was holding out his right hand to indicate that I was to move. I suddenly realised I was the last one to be brought in.

The Sheik's banqueting room defies description. It was western in setting in that there were about twenty five or so tables around a very large room, but all so arranged at an angle to a small top table, which was dominated by a small throne with two red velvet chairs on either side. I noticed that the Sheik's wives and their group were discretely off at three side tables.

As the minders 'dropped' their guests off at tables, they sort of peeled off much like fighter planes, leaving their minded guest standing behind his or her respective seat. It was a seamless performance. The Sheik was still on his feet, beside his throne and the guest who had walked in immediately in front of me and I were brought to the Sheik's table.

Silence reigned and I could feel at least a hundred plus pairs of eyes on my back and neck. I was positioned behind my chair, one of the red velvet ones, at the right hand of Sheik and at that precise moment, being the last guest to be ushered in, the Sheik smiled at his assembled guests and spreading his hands indicated to all to sit down.

I glanced to my left and there sitting down was Abdou al-Akhri, while the guest who had been ahead of me, was on the Sheik's left as indeed another man in ordinary western dress.

'Sir Jonathan, welcome to my home. You are my honoured guest and long overdue', the Sheik's English was perfect and accent-free. 'Abdou, you know and may I introduce .... I did not get the German name -- 'from Frankfurt and Michael Schwarz from Toronto, who are here on business.'

The Sheik turned and continued in German to his other guests, so I was able to talk for some minutes with Abdou, who said, he was back on one of his regular visits from looking after the Sheikdom's finances in Geneva.

It struck me as a quick thought that if Deckhams were handling a quarter of a trillion euro for the Sheikdom, just how much was Abdou handling in Geneva that required his constant presence there.

The first part of the meal, which appeared to be a succession of very small servings of delightful food and a variety of sorbets clearing the palate after each, was given over by the Sheik to conversing with the two on his left. By their smiles, it was clear that whatever they had come for to Dahra, they were getting.

Then it was my turn so to speak. The Sheik dabbed his lips switched to English and talked of Deckams and how pleased he was with the way things were progressing with his country's investments being managed by us. His detailed knowledge of some of the transactions we had handled left me speechless.

And then he said something, which I thought was significant, 'It is not the investment today, Sir Jonathan, that is our concern. It is the investment in twenty or thirty years time that we must have in place. Our oil, our gas will one day run out. Our people must have the same standard of life and better, of education and healthcare that they enjoy today. It is to the future I am always looking, not to the present and not to our murky and difficult past.'

I could not agree more with him and said so in so many words.

'You appear to have handled one aspect of our past very well, Sir Jonathan.'

He was referring to my ownership of slaves.

'It happened by accident, your Excellency and then it snowballed so to speak.'

'Do you have your Aussie football team yet?' and he laughed out loud, which drew smiles from various parts of the room.

I could not but laugh back at his joke. My unfortunate and off-the-cuff remark to Tariq al-Akhri, which had brought about my ownership of my first slave had obviously got back to him.

'And Abdou, I hear your family is rather well known in the country.'

Now it was Abdou's turn to laugh and indeed, I did myself. I had once said to a gathering of the al-Akhri family, who had spread the word about the Bank that they seemed to know everybody in Dahra.

'Tell me about the Lime Palace, Sir Jonathan.'

For ten minutes I spoke without interruption and finally, the Sheik said, 'Quite amazing. No one tries to run away?'

'No, your Excellency, the life some have left does not bear mentioning, other have no families, others nowhere to go.

'You have how many at the moment?'

'Just under six hundred, your Excellency.'

'And all living in peace and harmony. Quite extraordinary. I understand you want the freedom of Aziz al-Aziz.'

The Sheik was one clued-in ruler.

'Did you know I knew his father? Or rather my father did. Have you his declaration with you?'

I had, produced it and handed it to him. The Sheik held up his hand and as if by magic, a golden fountain pen was placed in it by a person whom I had not even seen standing behind the throne. He signed it with a small signature.

'Please tell Aziz, we are pleased to grant him his freedom. May I ask why, Sir Jonathan?'

'As you, your Excellency, have just said. The future. I am just thirty nine years old and trustfully shall live a long time, but I now have the responsibility for just under six hundred slaves, of whom many I regard as more than slaves. I actually regard some as my friends. I want to take care of them and have in mind using a foundation I have to ensure just that. Aziz would have to be a freeman to be on that board as well as my nephew Jack who is working here with me at the Bank and a lawyer friend.'

'Sir Jonathan, may you have a long and happy life and may I compliment you on your Arabic.'

'Thank you, your Excellency, I return the wish and compliment you on your English.'

The Sheik spoke across me to Abdou, 'The expansion of the two ports will go ahead as we have agreed. Arrange the initial transfers. And see if you can put a little further business the way of Deckams.'

The dinner was effectively over and the Sheik rose. He walked round and through his guests for some ten minutes and then withdrew with his entourage.

Abdou shook hands with the German and the Canadian and walked me towards my car.

'Shall we say transfers of twenty five this week and twenty five next month? he asked with a smile as we waited in line for the Bank's limousine to get a spot at the entrance.

'You won't find those amounts too difficult to handle, Sir Jonathan.'

'Not at all, Abdou, twenty five million twice. No problem.

'No, Sir Jonathan, twenty five billion twice.'

The car had pulled up and he had the door open for me, with a broad grin. I just hoped that my dropped jaw was not wider than the open door and for the second time in my life I was stunned by the volume of the money involved. The first time had been some fourteen years previously, when a wise senior partner at Deckams had save me from financial embarrassment with the then princely sum of twenty something thousand sterling.

I do not remember the drive back to the Lime Palace that evening.

When home I called my very first slave, Yuriy and his lover Radek to my bedroom for the night. The dinner had been too exhausting for me to have good sex and I simply watched the two lovers go through their well-learned love techniques for over an hour as I simply. When they had both come, they looked at me and then at each other.

Yuriy finally said, "Master, you are too uptight over something. You'll never get to sleep unless we can do something.'

The 'do something' involved being licked from ear to hipbone -- one on either side of me. When Radek's tongue made a beeline from my hipbone towards my now painfully erect cock, I came in four quick but intense bursts and each time I came I thought 'twenty five billion'. So, if anyone ever tells you that money is not a sexual stimulant in its own right, I for one beg to disagree.

Then Yuriy said, "Now, Master, please go asleep" and in obedience to the order, I closed my eyes....and it was morning.

End of Chapter 5