FOUR THE SAME by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Eight
It was to be four months before I could next journey back to the Sheikh's palace, and I did not even have time to keep up with Darren's education and training via remote video link as I was so totally absorbed by the battle for supremacy in the Bank.
My stratagem with the Sheikh worked exceptionally well - I "leaked" damaging stories about the inner workings of the bank, revealing to the press several skeletons which all had believed were firmly locked in the cupboard. As the share price plummeted, the Sheikh's nominees were able to buy extremely cheaply, and by the time of the crucial Board meeting he held a sizeable stake in the company.
I warned the Chairman that he was unwise to consider nominating my younger, brasher rival (he who had been with us only eight years and had no true conception of the real workings of the Bank), but he would insist in going ahead. We were expecting a stormy Annual General Meeting as many small shareholders were upset by the plummeting price of our shares, but the Chairman felt confident that he had the backing of sufficient "large" investors to ensure that his proposed new Board would be elected. "After all", he told me, "Most of our small shareholders don't bother to vote, or even send in their proxies. So as I have eleven percent of proxies cast in favour already by the institutions, it's a foregone conclusion!".
It was sad, really - the Chairman had served the Bank long and loyally, and other than this tragic wrong decision at the end of his career, had made few major blunders. He deserved to leave in a blaze of glory, and not with the fiasco that followed as the shareholders failed to elect my rival to the Board, thanks to the power of the Sheikh and his nominees. With chaos and turmoil all around, the remaining Board, and shareholders, were pleased to place the future guidance of the Bank in the hands of a long-serving, trustworthy, reliable, senior director - me!
I consolidated my power rapidly, offering generous incentives to my rivals and their protégés to leave, and promoting those in the bank who I trusted very rapidly. One such was my own special assistant, the one who had had the courage and political savvy to disturb my stay with the Sheikh to warn me of the attempted boardroom take-over those months ago. As I congratulated him, he said "Sir, thank you. But I must warn you - you are taking a risk!"
"How so, Andrew? I know you are relatively inexperienced, but you are very go-ahead, and I have been impressed by your attitude to taking on, and owning, projects. In giving you the Internet Bank to grow, I am grooming you for the top....."
"But sir, my... Well, my 'background' does not fit well with some of the Board, and there's always the risk of scandal...."
"I'm sorry... What do you mean?"
"Sir, had you failed to notice that I'm gay? I make no secret of it, and it doesn't affect my work, but there's always the risk of scandal in our rather conventional world..."
Actually, I had failed to notice. But now he mentioned it, I felt my cock stir - I'd always appreciated having him in my office as there was something ruggedly "masculine" about him that appealed to me. And now I knew he was gay, perhaps there would be opportunities to see more of the rather pert ass he displayed when he'd left his suit jacket in his own office. I, of course, kept my own sexual preferences rigidly hidden, and was, to the world, a happily married man with a wife of some thirty five years. Actually, we led separate lives - she was a passionate gardener and spent her time at our country home, tending the extensive grounds, and I spent my week at my apartment near the Bank. I usually spent the weekends in the country, although of course we had separate bedrooms, and she would, when required come up to London to attend important social and business functions, such as the Lord Mayor's Banquet, and the symphony concerts which the Bank sponsored. It was a well worked out arrangement that suited us both, and there had never been even a suggestion of scandal surrounding me as far as sex was concerned. In some respects therefore we were like Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicholson, each with our own lives, our own interests, but a shared respect and general affection that came from long years of marriage. Mind you, my wife did not use her love of gardening to write newspaper columns, and I preferred the cut and thrust of the commercial world to that of politics and journalism, but when I read their diaries, letters and the stunning book about their marriage, I could see many, many parallels in our modus operandi.
I found it faintly amusing that Andrew, open, honest Andrew, should worry about "scandal", whereas I, I who
owned a slave, a slave who was even now being "educated" to become my sex toy, had no such cares! So I assured him that there was no problem, and that he should feel free to discuss any potential difficulties on this score with me - indeed, I was to be his career "mentor" in the executive management fast-track programme, and I looked forward to meetings, and perhaps dinners, with him. Indeed I did!
However I did need to go to see the Sheikh - both to thank him, and because my nights were becoming increasingly disturbed by thoughts of Darren, and the four slaves. What would it be like for him, I wondered, to spend all his time naked with those mature men? How far had his education progressed? And, of course, I remembered the exquisite feeling of his virgin ass as it gripped my cock, and was ready for a repeat performance.
In spite of the pressure of work, therefore, I ordered the executive jet to fly me down to the Gulf - although not as magnificent as the Sheikh's private 777, this was nevertheless one of the perks in my new role as Chairman.
THE SLAVE'S STORY
As soon as the old guy had left we told Darren to get out of the bath, then Ray knelt down whilst I held the lad over his back so that Marc could shave his ass and his balls. The kid kept protesting and calling us all a load of faggots as his balls were stretched and teased to make a nice smooth surface for shaving, and his language was disgusting when Marc wiped his finger around his ass to make sure he was completely smooth. Matt's always been a bit intolerant, and he's a bit physical, and before any of us could stop him he simply came over, held Darren's neck so he couldn't get up, and walloped his ass with his bare hand. Well, it did at least shut him up - well, once Matt had threatened to beat him again if he didn't, anyway!
Our own trainers had worked out a proper exercise programme for him - he had to do all the same stuff as us, running, push-ups, weights, all that, but not to the same extent. Actually, it turned out he was a bit of a trial for us as with his relatively light body and long legs, he could out-run us as we tried to carry our heavier bodies over the assault course they used for our training. But on the weights, he had to start slowly, not use the ones they made us practice with.
That first day he was so shy! As we went through the Palace he kept trying to cover his dick and his balls with his hands. Matt had to slap him once or twice to make him stop, finally, as he didn't seem to be listening to us at first. I mean, it's not very polite, is it, to walk through the place with your hands touching your dick? And, anyway, word had spread about the new slave, and a lot of guys wanted to take a closer look at his uncut dick - you just don't see any of those around here, as all of us knew too well!
By the night, though, he'd kind of got used to it, and hadn't even seemed to have noticed when he boned in front of a group of trainers who had stopped us to take a closer look at the boy. I think I've told you that our cell is a pretty tight fit with us four big guys in there - we don't mind, of course, as we're used to being in close contact with each other all night, and like to be able to have sex with each other. He seemed really scared, though, when he saw how little space there was, and we had to tell him not to worry - after all, we'd been ordered not to fuck him, so what was he bothered about? There's nothing wrong with being in close contact with other naked guys, after all - especially when you've been working out with them all day in the nude.
I made a space, a nice little gap between me and Marc, and told him to lie in it, and after he'd got over the shyness of feeling our bodies pressed close, seemed to enjoy it - well, at least, I could feel his dick pushing in to my belly! Incredibly, he didn't want to be jerked off that night - was he some sort of freak, I began to wonder? I mean, when I was sixteen, I used to shoot all the time. So it was Marc who had to kind of hold him, to stop him from getting up, whilst I showed him what a real hand job is like, from an expert! He'd evidently never had another guy suck up his cum, either, and he seemed really surprised when, as my hands sensed he was about to shoot, I dropped my head down, slipped my lips around his dick head and sucked up the delicious juices.
All four of us were so used to being together ,to being really close, to having no shred of embarrassment or shyness about anything we did, that I suppose we underestimated what a shock his change of life was for Darren. On the third day we were told to take him down to the medical facilities in the basement, and we all knew why - well, the four of us knew, and we decided not to worry Darren with it. I mean, it should have been obvious to him, shouldn't it? He was a slave, and if he'd looked at any of the other slaves around the Palace, he'd have seen at once that we are all 'skinned.
I'd been 'skinned shortly after I was enslaved so that I was "just like" my brothers, and even after a few years I could still remember how painful it was. As we led Darren down the steps to the medical room, I could almost feel my dick shrinking as it remembered how "sharp" and "stinging" the pain was, and how it had lasted for a week or two.
The doctor made no attempt to help Darren, either. I mean, when I was 'skinned I was a big, tough guy and he might have been forgiven for thinking that I could stand the pain. But Darren was only a lad, really, and he might have been spared the worst of it - a shot of something doesn't cost all that much, does it? As it was, it as me and Marc who had to hold him down as the doctor did the deed, and his screams were really terrible.
They also branded him at the same time - although he didn't get the Sheikh's house mark, as we all had, as he belonged to the old guy who had a different emblem.
Once again, we had to hold him down when they did his ass cheek, and then, knowing how it had hurt, he almost fought us when we had to hold his arm still for the upper-arm marking.
Poor kid! We really felt sorry for him that night. We couldn't ease his tension by jerking him off or anything, for obvious reasons, and we knew we weren't allowed to fuck him. It seemed cruel to make him lie in the narrow gap between two of us, as there was no way then that we could avoid touching his fresh scars, so we hit on a novel way of making him as comfortable as we could - Matt lay on his back, then told Darren to lie on top of him, face down, with his head on Matt's pecs. That way Darren's dick was hanging down between Matt's legs so it was under no pressure, even if he had an erection, and the brand scar on his ass was upwards. I hadn't really thought of Matt as caring at all about the kid - in fact, he'd almost gone out of his way to make his life more difficult, but we all felt sorry for him, all could remember how we felt those years ago, and so perhaps it had got through to Matt.
Matt's mood of helping he kid out didn't last long, though. We'd been told that he was to learn how to suck dick, and we thought we'd better start to teach him quite soon. I'd kind of though that we'd start slowly, letting him taste our dicks first, then taking more and more down as he got experienced. But Matt went off and borrowed one of the training collars from a guard, and the rest of us were horrified when he buckled it around Darren's neck, knelt down, then told Darren to get on his belly and start to suck his dick!
I think we could all remember the horror of our own training with the huge American, and how he'd pulled on the collar to make us go right down on his dick, and now here was Matt proposing to do the same. The three of us tried to argue with him, but Matt would have none of it. Just as the American had done to us, so Matt pulled Darren right down onto his dick, then, when he spluttered and choked, he let him off just long enough to take another breath before pulling him back down.
I have to admit that there is something very sexy about seeing a guy writhing around, desperately trying to get away, as a big strong man pulls him by a collar further and further down onto his dick. Matt's shouts of "Get down on me, boy" and Darren's choking protests, all added to the excitement. I suppose the three of us could have stopped Matt if we'd wanted to, but, after all, it's how we'd been trained, and we'd survived, hadn't we? Perhaps a short, harsh training is actually better than a long drawn out one - who knows?
Anyway, Darren was really sulking that night and generally refused to speak to us or join in anything properly - Matt finally grabbed him by his "good" arm, hauled him to his feet, then slapped his ass a few times. It didn't help, as it only made Darren more resentful, even when Matt pointed out that he'd only slapped the side of his ass without the brand on it! His whole attitude drove Matt wild, and he only had himself to blame - and, I suppose it was better that he should learn then that a slave just can't have "attitude" - he has to be bright and co-operative at all times. But the three of us did have to pull Matt off him to stop him hitting the guy - Matt's big hand was gripping Darren's good shoulder and his other hand was slapping his face now, very hard, one side and then the other. We were scared that he might actually damage Darren, I guess, and then we'd probably all have been punished.
After that Marc tried to calm things down a bit, and I think Matt was a bit ashamed at having lost his temper, as he let Darren sleep on his chest again that night. It is a bit of a problem, actually - it's OK to have a guy sprawled across you some of the time, but to take his whole weight, all night, does make it hard to sleep as you wake up and think you're suffocating as it can be hard to breathe. I guess we all thought Matt and Darren had kind of "made it up" then, and they seemed to rub along all right. But of course there would be trouble later!
Actually, I think Darren made too much of the whole cock sucking thing. I mean, it's no big deal is it, really, to take a nice meaty dick head between your lips and really give its owner pleasure? Once you know you can take the whole length of a dick without gagging and choking, the rest ought to be a whole lot of fun for both of you. But Darren moaned and whined on about not "liking" our dicks - as if that had got anything to do with it! Why's "liking" a dick any concern of a slave? If your master tells you to take dick, you take it, and that's all there is to it. He'd got a lot to learn about becoming a proper slave, as I told him when he complained because I didn't let his head go when I shot my load - I mean, for a lot of masters part of their pleasure is in being able to fill the slave's mouth with their cum, isn't it? Sure, a lot of masters enjoy seeing the slave's head covered in cum, with it dripping off their foreheads and so on. But you have to let the master choose - a slave can't just say he doesn't take cum in the mouth!
And, anyway, what's the problem with eating cum? It's not as if it's exactly unpleasant, is it?
No, young Darren had a long way to go, and we all tried to do our best by him. He did seem to almost enjoy the jerking off lessons, once his 'skinning scars had healed., though Well, I suppose it's the kind of thing all groups of guys do anyway, almost naturally, isn't it? We'd all sit by him then we'd show him one of the grips (under hand, overhand, two hands, shaft only, top only, shaft and top, and so on) on his dick, until he was throwing himself about with excitement, then he had to do it back to us. Ray's our best masturbator, and if the four of us have to pleasure a master, we usually try to manage to get his hands around the master's dick - as we're all so alike, the masters aren't really tell which of us it is, after all, even if he's asked for a particular slave! So it was generally Ray who almost brought Darren to climax, then Darren had to see if he could do the same to the four of us.
You lose all track of time when you're a naked slave. You don't have clocks, or diaries, or the TV news, or even the radio or newspapers to tell you what the date is, so I don't really know for exactly how long Darren was with us for "training". It was good for us in a way, that during the whole time, though, we weren't put on the "pleasure room roster" so we didn't have to service any other masters. It was really great for the four of us just to be able to have sex with each other, and, to a lesser extent with Darren, of course, as we weren't allowed to fuck him and he didn't seem to want to fuck us. That's funny, I suppose - when I was a guy his age my dick was always looking for a home, and, sure, it was always one of my girl friends.
But once you've lost your inhibitions at being with other guys, why wouldn't you want to fuck them if they offered? It's almost as if Darren still felt there was something wrong with it.
THE BANKER
After I had concluded my business with the Sheikh it was time for relaxation. We dismissed our respective aides, and sat together in his private sitting room, luxuriously furnished in the Arab style with rugs on the floor, huge silk floor cushions, and the walls covered in rich tapestries.
"Now, my friend, I think it's time to see how your slave has developed, don't you?"
"Indeed, Highness... I am most grateful, as you know, both for the gift itself, and then for your continuing generosity in providing lodging for him - and training!"
"Yes, indeed. I am eager to see how my slaves have performed on that score myself."
So saying, he clapped his hands and the four big identical slaves came in, with Darren in the middle of them. But a changed Darren - a totally different slave to the one who I had left there those months before.
The four slaves were of course totally naked - I'd never seen them any other way - but Darren had been dressed in a short, white tunic in some thin cotton material. It fell only to his mid thigh, was slit up both sides to the waist, and had a very low neck line and wide arm holes without sleeves. It was designed to tantalise, rather than to offer proper concealment, as it was obvious that if the boy engaged in any strenuous physical activity the thin material would ride up to offer glimpses of the genitals and ass. Indeed, so thin was the fabric that even as he stood there I could see the outline of his aureoles as dark shadows on his chest.
My cock stirred at the sight, and the five men advanced across the room to fall to their knees in front of us and salaam. As they did so, the fabric of Darren's skimpy tunic fell forward along his body, revealing his ass and the sharp outline of the bones in his lower back. Altogether it was an entrancing sight, so much more erotic than the simple nudity of the four other slaves, and I began to think that perhaps I should always keep the lad partially clothed - perhaps with a tiny loin cloth, that only concealed his cock when he was standing still but which would offer glimpses of his genitals the moment he moved, or tried to sit down?
The Sheikh ordered the five slaves to their feet, and Darren stood there in the middle of them. "Shall we take a closer look?", my host asked, and I realised he was sensitively acting the part of the perfect host - although the absolute master in his own palace, and indeed the whole kingdom, he deferred to me to command my own slave. I looked straight at Darren, and said, quite curtly as I needed to control the raging excitement that I was feeling , "Shuck that tunic, slave."
He reached down and gripped the hem of the garment with both hands, and with a smooth gesture pulled it up and over his head. As he did, I got a wondrous fleeting glimpse of his whole upper musculature stretched, and of his cock pulled upwards momentarily as his belly muscles tightened. He stood there then, perfectly relaxed, one foot slightly in front of the other as men do when they are at ease with themselves.
What a change those few months of training had wrought in him. Gone was the pale white body, and the hunched stance as if he was trying to conceal his nakedness in some way. Now he was glowing a beautiful mid brown all over, and was standing tall and proud, as if he wanted you to see his body and admire it. And admire it we could - there's something special about a man as he enters full maturity, isn't there? The way the muscles can be defined without being out of proportion, and the way that you can easily see the subtle interplay between the muscles, sinews and skin as the biceps, calves and thighs develop into those that you expect in a mature man. His genitals, too, could now be admired: with his dark pubic hair neatly clipped and razored back a little and his ball sac shaved completely clean, they were so much more visible, and formed the perfect backdrop to his penis.
I almost gasped with astonishment as I saw his darker cock head now - it had not occurred to me that, as a slave here in the Palace, he would naturally have been ''skinned. If anything, the treasure trail marching across his flat belly, and the neatly clipped thatch of hair on his pecs, made him even more desirable, if such a thing could be possible.
I called to him to turn around so that I could see the rear, and as he did so my cock, which had been painfully straining inside my clothes now was clamouring for release. I know you read in stories about the power of your erection making it physically painful for you, but I had always put this down to the author's art. But now it was true - the end of my cock was so sensitive as it strained against the fabric of my underwear and trousers that it was almost as if I could feel the buttons of my fly pressing in to it. I knew must be leaking pre-cum as there was an interesting warmth down there, and this was extremely rare for me: as I believe I have mentioned, at my age it becomes harder to get, and sustain, an erection.
The Sheikh and I got to our feet and circled the naked lad. There had been some other changes to him, too, I observed on closer inspection. On his upper arm and buttock there was a brand - I looked closely at the one on his arm, and saw that instead of the Sheikh's own house mark, Darren had been given a special one - the logo of the Bank! Now I'm sure you all know our corporate logo - it appears on all our stationery, advertisements, and signs outside our thousands of branches world-wide. It had cost us a fortune when we had commissioned a famous design consultancy to produce it for us, and I had been one of those members of the Board who had been concerned about spending so much money on our "image". But now, seeing it impressed deeply into Darren's flesh, I considered it was money well spent!
My fingers traced the outline of the logo, and now my cock was raging. I've told you how I had thrilled when I had first touched the brands on the four slaves, but now, having my own slave marked in this way was almost more than I could bear. As I reached down to touch the brand on his buttock, my cock gave up: it was almost as if it was tired of the strain of confinement, and got relief in its own way - I felt myself climaxing, and knew that my underwear would now e soaked with my cum. This was such an amazing experience for me as this simply doesn't happen to you after your twenties, and having a spontaneous ejaculation like this caused me to have a series of erotic "flashback" memories to my earlier life.
"I took the liberty of having your slave branded, my friend", the Sheikh was saying. Then, noting my excited state, went on "Are you all right? Do you need to sit down? Is something the matter? I was only trying to make the slave your property, so that he would be healed before your visit...."
I started to laugh. That sort of semi-hysterical laugh that you can only do when you're slightly drunk, or when you have had an intense emotional experience. It was such a relief to show my feelings like this, as normally I retain a mask of icy calm composure, so suitable for a banker and a man who attends many important meetings. "No, your highness!", I said through my smiles, "It's perfect! Quite the best use of my bank's logo I have ever seen. And I notice that you have also had him tattooed..."
As I spoke, I let the tip of my finger trace the words "Slave Darren" that were now in dark black ink just above his pecs, in a bold, plain font.
"Indeed. It's the custom here, as you know, and so it seemed appropriate to have it all done at the same time.... And do you like the proper, slave, 'sleek' look to his dick...?"
My hands were trembling as I reached down and took the lad's cock into my palm, and as I rolled it around, was rewarded by his firm, strong erection. I let my thumb caress his cock head, and even striped my thumb nail across his piss slit, resulting in a shudder that ran through his whole body as I did so.
"Your highness, your consideration for your guests seems boundless! You gave me this exquisite, costly gift, and then, knowing of the many constraints on my time, had him turned into this even more perfect slave before this visit. I can never thank you enough...."
"My friend, you will repay me over time, I am sure. With your firm, intelligent leadership of the Bank, my assets will surely double in value..... Indeed, I will need to find additional ways to reward you as special 'incentive bonuses' - I imagine the Bank's remuneration Committee will give you appropriate salary and bonuses, but there are things here in my kingdom that only I can give, and which, I suspect, you will value more than the millions of pounds that will undoubtedly flow from your employers."
I could only imagine that this was so, thinking of Darren, and seeing how he had had the power to capture and convert the four slaves, and I thanked him profusely for the suggestion.
The Sheikh and I then dined in private, discussing matters of business, with the four slaves and Darren acting as waiters and tables! As each course came up from the palace kitchens a slave carried it into the room on a giant silver salver, but it was left to the four slaves and Darren to then carry it over to us. There was no furniture as such as the Sheikh and I were sprawled comfortably on the lounging cushions, so, in turn, the four slaves knelt, tucked their head down on to the floor neatly so that their broad back was horizontal, and thus acted as a low table to hold the tray. The other three slaves, and Darren, then brought tasty morsels individually to us and fed us as we reclined there. Actually, I'm not sure that it wasn't always the same slave who acted as the table - I really couldn't tell them apart, and of course there was no way of inspecting their tattoos, hidden as they were in the recesses of their asses - I suppose I might have caught a glimpse of a tattoo as the slave knelt there, but, being perfectly trained, the ass was never displayed directly to us as he as I imagine that this might have been considered inappropriate when we were eating.
At the end of our meal the Sheikh, seeing my evident continuing sexual excitement, suggested that I might like to retire early "as I must have had a long day, travelling from London." I was at first thrilled by the prospect, then realised that I was perhaps not so deep into his confidence as I had thought - why, after all, did we not both stay in the same room and use all five slaves for our joint sexual pleasure? The more I thought about it, the more I thought that if I had been another Arab, one of his real inner circle, this would surely have been the case. Was this some subtle form of racial discrimination against me? Was he saying that Europeans were satisfactory as slaves, but that he didn't want to indulge in sexual adventures with a European like me?
In one of those decisions that I am capable of making, I decided I had to know. If the Sheikh and I were to work together in future there must be no secrets between us, none at all. But how could I approach this delicate subject? Then it came to me.... "Majesty, yes, I am tired. But I continue to be overwhelmed by the splendour of the gift you have given me, and by the exquisite taste you show in having these other four slaves here - slaves that are, by any standards, truly exceptional pieces of male flesh. I feel that if I retire I will be depriving you of the pleasure of further enjoyment tonight - can I offer you the use of my slave? He is almost a virgin, as I only buggared him once during my last visit, and now he is more mature, firmer, stronger, he is almost certainly a special delight waiting for a discerning connoisseur of male flesh, such as you undoubtedly are.... I would consider it an honour if you were to use the slave for your pleasure.... And perhaps I could make do with one of the four slaves, who are of course excellent in themselves, as is everything here in your palace...."
The Sheikh smiled, and beckoned to Darren. He gestured, and the lad knelt down in front of the man as he sprawled there on the cushions. I watched in fascination a the Sheikh, who clearly did know how to handle slaves, rested one hand on the lad's flat belly to steady him and give him confidence, and with the other proceeded to gently part his swelling buttocks and wriggle one of his fingers up the lad's hole. As I continued to observe, he moved his finger gently in and out, as expressions first of panic, and then of pleasure, fled across Darren's face.
After two long minutes he withdrew his finger, and held it out in front of him. At once one of the four slaves knelt in front of his owner , took the finger into his mouth, and gently washed it with his tongue!
"My friend, you do me a huge honour by offering me the use of your slave. Such a fine specimen, and surely a real delight to his owner's sexual organ. I can confirm that his ass is every bit as perfect as those parts of him that are more visible, and it is only the most pressing call to duty that prevents me from accepting your offer. Many men imagine that I have an enviable life here as ruler, but going with the power, there are responsibilities. Tonight I have to visit the most recent of my wifes - a young woman given to me by a leader of one of the southern desert tribes - she is his cherished daughter, I believe. Tradition and custom dictate that I must deflower her, and unpleasant as this task is, it is one that I cannot delegate to another without causing the most grave upset to her father and consequent trouble in my country. So, very reluctantly, I must decline this precious gift you have offered me, a gift that is more pleasing to me than any of the jewelled objects, fine china, Swiss watches and other gee-gaws that my guests normally bring."
"I will long remember this act of selflessness", he continued, "As I can think of few other men who would defer their use of such a perfect young slave in favour of another. But we are both getting on, both advancing in years, and, as I am prepared to admit to you, in a way that I would not be to many others, that one's sexual power diminishes somewhat, does it not? I could certainly ravish this slave boy now, and would relish a competition with you as I took him whilst you amused yourself with one of my four slaves here. But were I to do so, my prowess with my new wife might falter. I find it distasteful as it is to feel a woman's flesh against me, and had I already experienced the joys of this boy, then I feel that my member would simply not perform at all - and the consequences of this would be great, as I have explained. So let us put on hold any further mutual enjoyment for tonight - take your new slave, and these four, if you wish, off to your chamber, whilst I go and do my duty. On your next visit we will have a competition - we will, as I have suggested, both begin to use a slave of our own choosing, and the first to cum will demand a forfeit from the other...."
Inwardly, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I had done exactly the right thing. And on my next visit I would cement my business relationship with the Sheikh in a way that only men can. So much for all the "equal opportunities" stuff with which I had to contend at the Bank: only a male Chairman could build such a relationship with his most important client, and majority shareholder.
End Of Part Eight