This is the 7th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.
Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, punishment, re-training, slavery and submission
This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.
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The Changed Life by Gerry Taylor
Chapter 7 - The new slaves
It was perhaps about ten days after our nickel coup that my mobile rang in the Villa. A code has to be activated to gain access to incoming calls or to be able to make outgoing ones. Once the code was entered, the green coloured LEDs flickered for attention in the early morning light. The sun was barely up fifteen minutes and already it promised to be the usual scorcher of a day. It was Tariq to invite me that evening for dinner at his Palace - if that were convenient. If not, another time.
I said I would be delighted and he said that he would have his limousine come and collect me as previously. I started to protest, but he would have none of it and said that he was looking forward to meeting me again, and that I would be able to meet his brothers who had been with him for falconry hunting and who were staying with him as well.
The day was uneventful. Gustav Ahlson came in at one stage to confirm that we were continuing to get in a stream of small new clients each day, five million on deposit here, holding three million in bullion there, and it was all adding up.
It is always our custom to ask And how did you hear of Deckams?' A silly question really from one perspective -- the Bank had an imposing building in the financial quarter and would be obvious to all but the blind. But from an introduction point of view in the Arab world of who do you know that we know?' -- it is an all important one. The answer was invariably Tariq or one of the other four al-Akhri brothers, each of whom had also opened up accounts which together totalled in excess of one billion euro.
At precisely seven pm, Tariq's limousine drew up outside the front steps of the Villa, and his driver was out it the evening sun, standing by the back door ready to open it. I was dressed in light clothes suitable for the cool evening. Yuriy trotted down the steps and stood at the trunk of the car with my overnight case.
As before, the driver dropped to his knees and kissed my feet. His gratitude was clearly of the continuing type. As he got up to open the limousine door, I asked him in Arabic what his name was. He looked astonished that another Master other than his own should speak to him and in his own language at that, and pulling himself up to his full height, he said Faisel, Master'. I took a half sucked peppermint I had in my mouth and popped it into his. Had I kissed him or worse, he could not have looked more surprised. His eyes opened wide, and he smiled broadly and said Master', as he opened the door. I did not acknowledge the now recognisable forlorn look on Yuriy's face as we drew away.
I am sure that the car must have some timing mechanism, because my watch said eight o'clock on the dot as we pulled up outside Tariq's Palace. The driver again did his feet kissing bit when we arrived and he had opened the door. Ahmed the head of the household staff was standing there awaiting my arrival, but if his job was to let Tariq know that, it was not necessary, as Tariq glided out the entrance to greet me.
Out of the side of my eye, I saw Faisel, the driver, go up beside Ahmed and he must have breathed into Ahmed's face, because there was a look of pure astonishment at the pepperminted breath Ahmed must have smelled. Faisel in my mind was one of those people who never lost their sense of joy no matter what hand Fate dealt them in life.
Gustav at the Bank had briefed me on each of Tariq's brothers and, in no particular order, I met them as we went into the dining-room. Rashid, the eldest brother was the last one whom I greeted. The briefing on him had said `always treat with caution'. A huge man, all of twenty stone, with gimlet black eyes with the cruellest of looks behind their blackness. I immediately made a note never to make an enemy of that man.
Dining-room is the wrong word. It changed its function according to what Tariq, the Master, wanted. Now it was for dining, later it would be for conversation, later on it would be for entertainment. In size, like so many rooms in Tariq's Palace, as I may have mentioned previously, it was as big as a tennis court and its surrounds.
You can get a sense of tension and electricity in rooms at times. My arrival caused some of the tension to disappear. They had been arguing about their falcons, and two of the younger brothers had registered more successes than the others over the two days, and had been joking the others about it. I subsequently found out that more than a million euro had changed hands over the two days' entertainment, plus a stallion, plus two cars.
My two previous body slaves glided over and prostrated themselves at my feet, each kissing a foot. I thought it a little strange with their Master being present, but apparently Ahmed had let all the slaves know the evening was for my benefit, as I was their Master's honoured guest.
`These two have taken a shine to you, it appears,' Tariq said in Arabic with a laugh.
Food and Drink' as I had identified them to myself previously were standing to the back and side of the sofa divan, clearly happy with my presence there, and letting all and sundry among the other slaves know just that.
Tariq enquired about my wrist and its hairline fracture. I held up my arm, now without its plaster cast, but with a strong elasticised bandage around it, and held it up and twisted it around in the air.
`A bit tender, but otherwise absolutely fine. You have a great hospital and medical services here in Dahra,' I replied.
Conversation had not really taken up again, but a buzz soon started as the first of the food began to arrive. It ran the gamut of national to international to local to general financial affairs. I never introduced a topic, but kept up with the flow, and even joined in the banter. It was most enjoyable to be able to keep up with the fast flowing repartee, and I think that the brothers were really happy in the family company of each other.
Two things I noticed. There were no women present, either family members or slaves, and the conversation had been all evening in Arabic, which in other circumstances might have been taken as an insult to a guest, but here, it was in reverse. It was an acceptance that somehow I was part of their family circle. I also subsequently learned that although Rashid, alone among the four brothers, was word perfect in English, he was not fluent. So in a way, I was doing him a favour into the bargain.
One of the younger brothers in a lull in the conversation then spoke. It would not be possible to say between courses, as there seemed to be a continuous flow of food and drink being served, and I had noticed that there was no alcoholic drink at all, not that that bothered me in the least.
`Are you settling in ok, Jonathan, here in Dahra?' one of the younger brothers asked.
`Yes, indeed. The heat of the climate will take a little getting used to. But the work at Deckams is going very well. The office machinery is well oiled, and I have a marvellous head of staff.'
`Ah, yes, the Swede. An interesting man,' and there was a round of smiles among the brothers.
`Yes, indeed, he has the office running perfectly. May I say something on that score, if it is not impolite. We have had an unending string of new clients opening accounts. They all seem to know your family.'
The room rocked with laughter. Tariq came to the rescue when he had dried some tears in his eyes, he had been laughing so hard. I really enjoyed his sense of wicked humour and of laughter.
We mentioned the Bank's name to some of our family's cousins and friends. We are not a large nation as you know, so we are known' as you say. That, in fact, is a good joke, which I must tell to the Sheik one day'.
`We said that you, not the Bank, had helped us to our financial advantage, but did not say how. Nothing more. In our world, we look after our friends and spread the word of our friendship. We let people arrive at their own conclusions. Which, in fact, brings me quite nicely to another matter. Is that all right, brothers?' And Tariq looked around at the smiling faces of his four brothers, who nodded in agreement.
Tariq clapped his hands twice and the great doors at the end of the room eased open, and in walked the six slaves whom I had ticked off in the Gus Jennings, the stable overseer's catalogue. They had obviously been bought by Tariq for his brothers after all. All six of them. He must have fended off some bidding to get all of them, because they were prime manhood. Neither the brothers nor Tariq, nor any of the slaves for that matter, had in fact looked over to see the heavy doors opening, they had continued to look at me and my reactions.
The six men, all Caucasian or Slav types, walked in totally naked, not a single item of ornamentation on them, apart from the ankle bracelet and what appeared to be a golden bootlace hanging around each of their necks, one end of which was in a dime sized loop and the other end of going through the loop and hanging down between their pecs.
Their bodies were light oiled with something as the light reflected off them. Body hair had been trimmed, to something less than a crew-cut on their heads, to a trimmed but not shaved area of hair over the pubic bone. Each of them was with two inches of each other in height, the median being around 5 feet 11 inches. Their shoulders were wide, their chests well proportioned, biceps pumped up but not overly so. Their cocks were at half erection, which I thought a little odd, because it was impossible that six men just walking into a room, would each have the bones of a boner, so to speak. But they clearly had. I would subsequently learn that a small two inch butt plug inserted an hour previously would cause such an erection. Such was my innocence then.
The six walked in proudly and unselfconsciously and lined up in front of the throne like chair on which Tariq was sitting and on unspoken command dropped to their knees and made obeisance to him, with their foreheads touching the marbled floor. They stayed in that position.
You could have heard the proverbial pin drop, as they say. My two body slave Food and Drink had not broken the rhythm of the light touching thumb massages which they had been doing to my shoulders and neck. Everyone of the brothers was looking at me. I was missing some point or other.
Tariq then looked over at Rashid who was as it seemed the head of the family generally, but not in this Palace. Some form of protocol was being observed here.
I noticed that Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, was standing now to the left of Tariq's throne-like seat.
Rashid smiled further and said, `You have done our family a service and my brothers and I wish to thank you with these gifts.' He looked over at the youngest of the brothers who got to his feet.
Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, said something. The first in the kneeling line of slaves got to his feet and went to meet the youngest brother, who took the golden bootlace in his hand and led the slave over to me. The slave went on his knees and put his head on the floor in front of me. The brother then kissed me on both cheeks. I was marbleised. I could not move. I could not breathe. I could not think for myself. Had this man just handed over a slave to me?
The next two brothers did the same. The Tariq came over with the fourth slave and finally, Rashid got to his feet and with one bootlace in either hand led over the last two slaves. When he had returned to his divan, there were six muscled bodies in obeisance before me. The confusion of emotions ran a gamut through my body and a helter skelter of conflicting thoughts ran through my mind.
Tariq broke the into my confused reverie.
`We hope you like them and that they give you a lot of pleasure over the years to come, or for however long you wish to own them.'
I looked at him and at the al-Akhri brothers. I got to my feet and could feel that my knees were weak.
`I can say without fear of contradiction that your presents are the most extraordinary gifts that I have ever received or am every likely to receive. I value your friendship more than your gifts, but your happiness in giving then is only equalled, and surpassed, by my happiness in accepting them.'
The brothers broke out in a round of applause, with further laughter. I looked at Tariq for assistance.
`Three of us said that you would accept them. Two of my brothers said that you would not.'
`But, Tariq, what I am to do with them? I simply do not know. My Villa is large and in the capital, but not suitable for such splendid presents.'
There was a further round of laughter. Gus Jennings came over and gave a command and the six slaves got up, and each assumed a `rest' position as I subsequently learned to call it, behind my sofa, with their feet some two feet apart and their hands clasped behind their backs.
It was now around 10 in the evening. Rashid said something about the next day being a busy one for him and the evening rapidly came to a close.
Two of the younger brothers who had lost their bet on me holding on to the slaves came over and spoke this time in perfectly modulated English. One had been like Tariq to the London School of Economics, for applied macroeconomics, the other had been to Cornell University in the US, for business studies. While they were all undoubtedly Arab in their costumes, mannerisms and so forth, they were also totally Western in their education and training as well, and slipped between languages and the worlds which the languages represented with practised ease. Tariq was bidding good night to each of his brothers, so they went back over to him.
Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, came over to me, to enquire which slave did I want. I replied that I simply did not know, `All of them. There were gifts were they not?' He saw that I had mistaken his question.
`No, I meant, do you want one or more of them for the night? I can cage up those you do not want now. I have their files and ownership papers ready for you.'
`No, Gus, just see them bedded down for the night and have their files sent to my room. I do not need any slave now. I can take a better look at them in the morning. But what am I going to do with them? I have a large Villa but not suitable for six naked slaves.'
I am sure you will find a solution long-term, but don't worry, you can leave them with me for the next month. I actually would prefer that. I shall ask the Master and I am sure that he will not object. However, if you do leave them here, I will need your instructions as to how you want them trained. They are all wild' as we call it in this part of the world, and most certainly need extra slave training, to be anyway useful to you.' He went over to have a word with Tariq still talking to one of the younger brothers.
It is quite amazing how much you can read from body language. Food and Drink were looking dejected and confused with the six well muscled guys at `rest' beside them, looking on them as competition for a Master's attention.
I began to take a closer look at the six in the meanwhile, and Food and Drink became even more dejected looking so I told them to sit out of my way.
While I had seen the photos of these six young Adonis types in the slave catalogue, they had been but six among some 40 or so others. The first was just under six feet and pure blond. His eyes in this light looked grey with a touch of blue to them. A firm jaw-line and perfect six pack under perfect pecs. I looked him straight in the eyes. His were on the middle distance somewhere. I pulled lightly on his jaws and my eyes locked with his. Obviously, he had been trained not to look at a Master, but as he tried to avert his eyes, each time, I brought his gaze back to mine. I held the gaze, and somewhere at the back of his there was fear.
The second guy was about five feet ten, with light to fair colouring. I took a hold of his jutting cock, his being the most erect, and rubbed the tip of my thumb over the piss slit. It was moist with his pre-cum. Grasping one of his balls, I held it firmly but not squeezing it. His eyes widened, and I moved my head so that I was looking directly into his eyes. He was petrified. I moved on.
The third guy was as dark as the others had been blond and fair. There was a five o'clock shadow on his chin and looking into his eyes, there was pure hate. Without taking my gaze of him, I let my hand run down the outside of his arms which I pulled forward to his sides from behind his back. I let my fingers lightly touch the palm of his hand, which was perspiring, on their travel downward towards more interesting areas of his anatomy. His eyes smouldered, but now there was confusion there as well.
The fourth and fifth men were clearly Slav types and the best endowed of the six with penises of some seven and half inches and eight inches respectively, but very thick. One of them had the most delightful small round nipples which stuck out most significantly like the teat on a baby's bottle. While they were sensitive to touch, they were nothing to the sensitivity of the other, whose cock went almost slap up against his belly when his left nipple was gently squeezed. In both their eyes, there was resignation but defiance.
The sixth guy looked for all the world like your typical college jock. Of all the six, his butt was his prize asset. It was globular and glorious. Although, six foot four I would say, when I looked into his eyes, I saw a little boy who was on the verge of tears.
All in all an interesting six-some. I had just finished my first look at the six slaves when Tariq came over. I am glad I had looked at them immediately, because it gave the impression that I was truly grateful for the gifts. If the truth be told, I was more astounded at the gifts than thankful for them.
Speaking in Arabic, Tariq said, `Absolutely no problem in leaving your slaves here for as long as you like. The stables overseer has told me of your housing crisis.' And he laughed at his own little joke.
`Tariq, your generosity and that of your brothers, has left me astonished. I shall clearly have to go shopping for a new home and as I am here only less than four weeks, I have not a clue where to start or what a suitable place even looks like, let alone costs.'
Tariq became serious for a moment and said, `Do you want to buy or to lease a place?'
`I would prefer to buy. I always have. At present, I am in the Bank's Villa, so the problem did not arise in Dahra.'
`If it is not indelicate of me to ask, what would your price range be if you went into the market?'
I looked at him for a moment and said, `In all honesty, something between four and six million euro. I am a banker, Tariq, not a prince.'
`For that you can get something very good here in Dahra. Wait! Hold on a moment! Wait a moment!' he said as some idea hit him and he moved quickly off towards one of his departing brothers, the youngest one. There was a quick conversation. The youngest brother looked over at me, and the two came back into the room.
My brother, Abdou,' Tariq said is selling his Palace at the moment, as he is going to Switzerland for the next three years to head the Sheik's business operations there. The Palace is a small one by our standards, the former home of the fourth wife of our father, but I think it would be adequate for your needs. He has always found it adequate for his, but then he only has 20 slaves.'
`Tariq, you know my price range. I don't quite think I am in the market for a Palace.'
The brother, the one who had been to Cornell, looked at me and said, `I was about to put it on the market here in Dahra. The price is five million dollars. But I would be truly delighted if a member of our family were interested in it. It has a lot of memories of our family there. My brothers all have their own places which are much better than mine, and I know that when I return here, I would not really use it as I have a much bigger palace on the outskirts of the capital. For that price it is yours, on one condition, that if or when you leave Dahra, you would offer it back first to myself or my family at the same price.'
I looked at him. I looked at Tariq. `Done deal', I said and then put my head in my hands. There was a look of concern on their faces.
`My friend, has a migraine hit you?' Abdou enquired.
I laughed out loud.
`I just came out to dinner. Now I have bought a Palace and am going to fill it with slaves. Would anyone mind telling me where this Palace is?'
We burst out laughing, and for the second time that night Tariq had to wipe away tears.
`You have just bought the Aloe Palace and it is 8 miles - about ten minutes drive - from here. It is 58 miles and about seventy minutes drive from the capital,' Tariq replied and he and his brother bid me goodnight.
Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, came back over. I told him to bed down my six slaves for the night.
Not knowing the procedure, I asked `Are they put somewhere altogether or what?
He looked at as if to say something and then changed his mind, and said `They will be separately caged. They are mostly all virgins, except one, so they will not be put together, just in case. I shall have them ready for you for proper inspection in the morning. At what time would be suitable?'
We agreed eight o'clock. The six slaves had been listening obviously to the conversation as it was in English, and some were able to follow it more clearly than what had been said in Arabic. They dropped to their knees and made obeisance, and Gus Jennings took them out.
I motioned to Food and Drink to follow me and they visibly perked up.
To be continued...