Date: Mon, 25 Aug 2003 23:56:42 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Reluctant Retrainer - Chater 17

This is the 17th chapter of The Reluctant Retrainer, part two 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.

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if this material
will be unlawful for you to read where your live, please leave his
webpage now.

Contact points:
eMail: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com
Web: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Reluctant Retrainer by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 17 -- Punishment

At morning inspection, it was very clear that something was amiss. Since
the numbers of slaves had grown plus the rotating visitors from
Gustav's, the inspection usually now took place outside the slaves'
quarters in the courtyard. Although they all went to `display' as soon
as I had arrived -- I had previously told them that at inspection it was
not necessary to make obeisance -- but today there were no smiles.
Usually there would be at least one or two, as they shuffled into place
after the memories of fond sex, if nothing else, during the night.

When I got to Drink, there was a bruise on his left cheek just under the
eye. His eyes themselves were blinking a lot, and when I put my hand on
his chest it was beating hard. Food had his head slightly down for a
slave on display, and when I raised his chin, there were bruises around
his neck and even in a couple of places clear finger marks. His heart too
was beating very hard.

`What happened, Food?' in the silence of the courtyard the soft
question might as well have been on loudspeakers.

`Master, he tried to choke me,' he replied in a hoarse whisper, and
glanced down the inspection line to where Hassan stood.

`Drink, get me a cane from the retraining room,' and Drink ran off to
get it.

When I got down the line to Hassan, I said very quietly, `Why did you do
that to Food? And why did you hit Drink?'

I was presuming the latter bit. As he was a fair bit shorter than my
height, I seemed to be actually looking down on him. Although it was cool
in the courtyard, in the early morning breeze, a trickle of sweat was
running down his forehead. He swallowed once or twice but made no reply.

I motioned Hassan to the centre of the yard and told him to bend over and
clutch his ankles with his arse facing the inspection lines. I tapped
apart his ankles until they were about three feet apart. Drink had come
running up with a camel cane from the retraining room.

I called Food out of the line and said for all to hear, `this is the
first time in the Aloe Palace that one slave has hurt another. It will be
the last such time. Food take the cane from Drink and beat this slave as
much as you like.'

Food's eyes were so wide open that you could only see their whites. He
took the cane in his left hand from Drink as one would hold a worm or a
snake, away from his body and by two fingers. He was looking at me, at
Drink, at Hassan and around at the lines of his fellow slaves in the
inspection line. His eyes were rolling in his head at both the attention
he was getting and at what he was being asked to do.

`Go on, Food, cane him as much as you want,' I repeated and with Drink
beside me stepped back to allow him swing the cane.

Instead he raised his right hand and brought it down `smack' on
Hassan's upturned backside, and from some childhood occurrence, said to
him, `Bad, bad boy' and scuttled over and behind me looking to see if
Hassan, who had not moved, had come after him. At the same split instant,
Drink ran over to Hassan and did likewise, and the likeable cowards that
Food and he were, ran behind me as well. Needless to say, the inspection
lines dissolved in laughter at the `bad, bad boy' smacks and remarks.

The matter was too serious to leave in a joke, so I called Greg over, and
taking the cane from between Food's fingers, I handed it to him and said
`Fifteen of the best or until first blood.' The laughter in the
courtyard died as Greg stood back, took aim at the unprotected buttocks
and let fly.

Hassan rocked backwards and forwards as stroke after stroke landed, but
did not shift out of position. Greg certainly knew how to wield a cane
and at stroke nine, Hassan's groans were audible. At twelve, the flesh
on his arse broke and there was blood. Greg nodded to me and he stopped.

`Let this be the first and only lesson ever about hitting or hurting one
of your fellow slaves. Hassan get up. Apologise to Food and Drink.'

Hassan stood up straight and turned round. His eyes and nose were
running. He had bit his lip and there was blood on his chin. He managed
to mumble something that included `sorry' in the middle it. I told Greg
to start his retraining that very afternoon and to give me a daily
progress report. Greg looked more than happy to oblige.

I was already running late for departure to the Bank, so I left
immediately.

If the day started bad, it improved as it went on. My private Bank in the
Grand Cayman Island had been doing its yearly report. Apart from what I
do with the balances there, the Bank runs an active investment account
for me and the total balances for the year even after buying the Aloe
Palace and investing almost a million in bits and pieces and becoming the
owner of some twenty six slaves, I still had in cash balances almost
eighteen million euro - almost twenty million dollars. Being the Grand
Cayman, that was nett of all taxes paid.

The second matter, which was brought to my attention that day, was a hand
delivered letter from the lawyers for the estate of a deceased neighbour
out at the Aloe Palace.

Being in the desert, I did not have near neighbours, or so I had thought,
but it appears that all the land in for a mile off each of the major road
is `owned' or granted by the Sheik to those who either want it or
purchase it. A very Dahran arrangement but one that appears to work for
them.

I was being offered eight hundred hectares of desert land to the west of
the Aloe Palace. When I did the calculation, it was just under two
thousand acres or three square miles of desert -- three miles along the
road west and a mile in -- give or take a measurement. Effectively, it
was the next plot of land along the west road.

I seemed to remember that my own land and fields on which the Palace
stood was about two hundred and fifty hectares, the difference being that
my lands had the water of the old oasis and that this land had none. The
asking price was two million dollars.

I rang the firm of lawyers who had handled the purchase of the Aloe
Palace for me; effectively the same firm as used by the al-Akhri's
themselves. The partner there said the lawyers for the estate were asking
far far too much -- that it was an opening tactic, but if I was
interested, they would bargain them down for me.

The only question in my mind was that if I did not buy it, then who
would. So, I asked the lawyer that and he merely replied, `Someone rich,
someone who wants privacy. The Aloe Palace being sixty miles from the
capital is remote, Sir Jonathan. Not every one would want to be out that
far. But then again, someone might want to be.'

I notice that he knew about the knighthood. However, I sent him over the
letter by courier for his considered opinion.

The lawyer rang back the following morning to say that the estate would
accept a million dollars. I agreed and told him to send me around the
papers and whatever for signing. The fifty thousand dollars that my
lawyers made on that deal was the easiest money that they made that day
and I made them a Bank transfer to cover the transaction. As there was a
lot going on that day, I put the matter entirely out of my mind until it
surfaced some three weeks later.


When I got back to the Aloe Palace in the late afternoon, I noticed that
Hassan was kneeling in the courtyard by the slaves' quarters. No sooner
did the limousine stop than he rushed he rushed across, obviously having
been waiting for me, and prostrating himself on the ground, he was
repeating, `Master, forgive me. Master, forgive me.'

Greg saw what was going on and came over. I raised an eyebrow.

`Only the first five procedures, Master, and already a wonderful change
of attitude,' he smiled. I think Greg really like his job as assistant
trainer. The mantra was continuing in the background.

`Hassan, if you do not stop, your punishment will not be just doubled
tomorrow but trebled.'

His mantra became a suppressed wail.

`It all depends on whether Food and Drink forgive you as well and if
your trainer thinks that you are really repentant and that this is just
not all an act.'

He shuffled over on the ground to Greg and kissed his feet. Greg smiled
to himself and at me. Food was standing by the door of the Palace, so I
beckoned him over.

`Hassan has been punished today and is going to be punished again
tomorrow -- there was another wail from Hassan -- when are you going to
forgive him for what he did to you?'

At this, Hassan moved from Greg feet to Food's feet and kissed them. I
don't think anyone had ever kissed Food's feet before because he almost
jumped.

Touching the neck that been almost choked, he looked down at the abject
Hassan and with one of those truly beatific smiles which only he and
Drink can manage, he said `I forgive him, Master, and Drink as well and
next time he had better be a better fuck' and with that he held out his
foot to be kissed again and Hassan duly obliged.

Greg was quite amused, but I also suspect a little sad and disappointed
at not being able to administer the next six training procedures on
Hassan. I just shook my head and walked in to change for the evening.


Aziz met me as I came down relaxed after a shower with Komil who has a
tendency to use liquid soap as if it were going out of fashion and then
hold you up in the air as he lathers you all over.

Vitali was there with his marvellous fingers to give me a rub down. I
always wait until he says `Get ready, Master' and uses an elbow all
down my spine. He doesn't wait nowadays for an answer but gauges his
massaging success on the number of my groans. He has a wicked sense of
humour, because he will always say something on the lines of `If you can
walk after one of my massages, Master, then I must have missed out some
vertebrae or muscle.' But I usually stagger to my feet and to the sight
of his ear-to-ear grin.

That evening Aziz was business as usual. His managerial powers were truly
marvellous. He told me that the doctor had been here for most of the
afternoon for the quarterly check-ups of all the overseers and slaves,
and that the doctor wanted to see me. That, as they say could be either
good or bad news.

The doctor who was French was over in a room in the slave quarters and
Aziz and I strolled over to him being brought up to date on various
things.

Jess had fixed a plough that had been broken and was working on an old
tractor, which had not been started in some ten years. Aziz said that he
had assigned Pete, the Australian to look after the care of the tennis
courts and, if in doubt, to ask either Rolf in the gym, or Raoul who had
played it, or two of the Swedes who knew a lot about tennis.

The good doctor was waiting for us. He really had a mobile clinic with
him, because he brought everything he needed in his Range Jeep.

`First, Sir Jonathan, the slaves I saw last time are all well. All have
recovered perfectly from the removal of their cysts and moles, etc. The
laser treatment to remove tattoos has been most effective in all cases. I
have also today removed a verucca from Todd -- he consulted a note, and a
head cyst from slave -- another consulting of notes -- Randy. About this
last slave I would like to talk to you.'

And he explained the particular problem and went on `Do you intend, Sir
Jonathan,' he continued, `to give dental treatment to the new slaves,
the three who arrived yesterday, I think.'

`In principle, yes,' I replied. `Why?'

`One of them, Stan, has a severe dental problem which is causing bad
breath. You may not have noticed' -- I had in fact noticed the bad
breath but not what the problem was -- `he has a very severe case of
pyorrhoea. Normally, it is only a shrinkage of the gums, but in his case,
it severe ulceration on the inside of the gums. I do not know what has
caused it. Secondly, you may have examined his anus before purchase,
eh?'

I said that I had.

`It is one of the worst cases of internal and external haemorrhoids I
have ever encountered and will lead to severe problems....'

He left out the remainder of the phrase `...if left untreated.'

`We had Flavio treated' I said `for a different anal problem, perhaps
your contact at the hospital could manage something?'

`I was hoping, that you would say that, because when he is there, he can
also be treated for some twenty or so warts which he has on his fingers.
A cold laser treatment can kill them instantly and while his hands are
recuperating, his other end can also be attended to. I am curious, Sir
Jonathan, why you bought such a poor slave. The other slaves you have
acquired are usually, apart from the two teachers, have always been in
perfect health?'

I smiled, `I am asking myself that as well, doctor. I think this Stan is
costing me an arm and a leg.'

`Ah, yes, Sir Jonathan, we say in French, costing `the eyes of the
head'.

`When can you arrange that?'

`Consider it done. Tomorrow, I shall have him collected. But that is
almost all the bad news.'

`Almost? Is there more?'

`The English teacher. Andy, they tell me that is his name. He has been
starved. The calcium in his teeth is bad and in his nails. He will need a
special diet that I can give. It will be like a soup of vegetables with a
lot of vitamins, like the one the other slave, the Kurd, was on. The only
problem is that he will have an erection most of the time with all the
energy I will give him.'

I actually asked the doctor, Yves Fournier, to examine the diet, because
while the slave biscuits are excellent for keeping a balanced figure,
they -- at least to my mind -- would not be sufficient to produce the
well build Aussie Rugby type, which I personally like -- not overly
muscled, but well toned, rangy and lithe.

What I was suggesting that just as I had the poor Kurd, Ali Tisani, on a
vegetable soup apart from his biscuits for almost three months to build
him up, so too I was to have Andy McTee, the slaves' intended English
teacher.

`Any more bad news?'

`No, Sir Jonathan. Now you deserve the good news. One, there is no
venereal disease at all among your slaves nor among the Swedes. I do not
think that all the Swedes have sex with each other all the time. But they
are all clean.'

I had not realised that I was paying for the Swedes health checks, but no
matter. The Grand Cayman news had put me in a good mood.

`Secondly, I want you to take a look at the first of these two slides,'
and he motioned me over to a small microscope on one of his benches.
`You know that I take a semen sample as a routine part of each test.
Take a look and tell me what you see.'

I looked through the eyepiece of the microscope, and let my eye adjust.
Down on the slide was a clearish liquid with a lot of little tadpoles
flicking about.

`Can you see clearly?' The doctor asked. `Now let me put in the second
slide,' which he did extracting the first.

Again, the same thing. Lots of little tadpoles thingies moving about like
mad. If anything the second lot faster than the first.

`I don't know what I should be looking at or looking for' I said,
`biology was never a good subject of mine.'

`You saw the sperm all moving around in both cases?'

I nodded that I had.

`They should not have been moving at all, or at least, they were not
moving at all the last time.'

`Now, doctor, you have totally lost me. Sperm that moves is alive. Sperm
that does not is dead.'

`Precisely, Sir Jonathan. The sperm you saw in the first slide was that
of Greg, taken this afternoon. The second slide was that of Bob, also of
this afternoon. There were both previously infertile. Now they would be
able to inseminate any woman alive and have a woman pregnant before you
could snap your fingers. They are both very fertile.'

`Does this happen, doctor?'

`It happens, Sir Jonathan, but I have never had two cases in one day in
twenty five years of practice. You now have sexual athletes on your hands
by the look of the motility of the sperm. Congratulations.'

They say that good things happen in threes, so if the Grand Cayman news
was one, and the land purchase two, then the doctor's news had to be
three.



However, the problem with Randy referred to by the doctor had to be
attended to, so I had him called. He came running with his Australian
lover, Pete, in tow.

The problem was quite simply that his former master had had his gonads
cinched, so that the ball sack of his scrotum was now hanging down after
eight to nine-inches between his legs, on a par with his long flaccid
cock.

Dr. Fournier had pointed out the dangers in later life of a very
distended set of balls and the internal seminal links.

Holding Randy's balls in my hand, I explained this to him and asked him
if he wanted it attended to surgically.

`Master, please don't cut them off, please"'

`Randy, you are not going to be castrated by this operation. It is
merely to tighten you up a bit, something like Pete here, so that your
balls and the internal tissues are not swinging around to such a
degree.'

`Master, are you doing this to get me ready for sale?'

He should not have asked that question. Slaves do not question Masters
and I was now getting a bit annoyed.

`Why is everyone here obsessed with being sold off? No, Randy, you are
not going to be sold off. It is precisely as I have said. Do you want to
be tightened up here -- I still had my hand on his balls -- or not?'

Randy was not the sharpest pencil in the box. Nature had given the body
of an athlete slim and trim and lanky and a nine-inch cock which
according to Pete he like to use like a fencing master. But upstairs, I
asked myself at times, if he was firing on all cylinders.

`You're letting me decide, Master?'

`No, Randy, I'm talking to the walls! Yes, I am letting you decide on
this single issue. And decide now or never.'

Randy looked at Pete, and Pete nodded back to him.

`Please, Master. Yes.'

The following morning he and Stan were collected and brought to the
university Hospital.

A week later when the bandage dressing had come off, he proudly displayed
to all and sundry who wanted to look at them, a pair of egg sized
testicles in a smooth almost wrinkle free sack tight up against his body.

The payback for Dr. Fournier was that he got an utterly devoted slave in
Randy, who worshipped the ground he walked on, to look after his surgery
from that week onwards.

It was now just after half six. If I attended to Randy, I had better
attend to the others. I could hear the noise of the slaves in the
swimming pool area and as they headed for the evening gym workouts.

I had Greg, Bob and Stan called to the study to talk to them. Bob arrived
first with Flavio in tow - going for an early swim it would appear, as
Flavio had to prepare my dinner later on.

`Ah, Bob, I wanted to talk to you. Perhaps, it might be better alone.'

`Something bad, Boss?'

`No, quite the contrary, something very good.'

`Then, can Flavio stay?'

`OK. The doctor was here today and ran the usual tests on everyone. He
has shown me a slide, which shows that now your sperm is very fertile.
Previously, it was not.'

Bob looked at Flavio. `I don't understand, Boss. You're saying that I
was infertile. I did not know that. That I could not make babies and that
now I can?'

`In one, Bob, in one. You are very healthy.'

Flavio had not understood a word, but grinned when he saw Bob grin and
punch the air. The two went off, Bob with his arm around Flavio's waist,
the swim totally forgotten.

I looked up and Greg was at the door of the study. I told him the same
good news.

`What you're saying, Master, is that while previously I had balls, now
I have balls that work?'

`I've seen your balls, Greg, and everything about you. And yes, your
balls are now firing on all jets. Apparently, it was the same for Bob,
who did not know either that he was infertile either.'

`I always had a good time with the ladies, Master, and none of them
every got pregnant as far as I ever knew. Now, I know why. So, are you
saying that I should be taking precautions now with Jess?'

I had to laugh at his wicked sense of humour and he laughed along as
well.

Stan came in as Greg went out and going on his knees he made a full
obeisance. His closely cropped buzz had a touch of grey in it. His bum
was cleanly shaven. I must have been looking at him for all of ten
seconds and realised that his forehead was still on the floor.

`Are you intending to stay down there all night, Stan? Up you get. Sit
on that seat.'

`I thought that slaves, Master, were not supposed to sit in the presence
of their Masters.'

`Slaves, Stan, are supposed to be obedient. How did the doctor go
today?'

`A lot of prodding and probing and its years since I have come off twice
in each of two days.'

He saw my upturned eye-brow.

`Last night, the Arab guy who slept with me. Twice. He had a mouth like
a vacuum cleaner.'

Mehmed would be charmed with the description.

`Then this morning I was sucked off again in the showers in front of
twenty other guys at least. I was hanging on to the wall at the end. And
then the doc wanted a sample.'

`You are obviously a very fertile guy to produce all of that and still
be walking, Stan! But that's not the reason why you are here. All of the
slaves here get very good medical attention. The doctor tells me that you
have a serious problem with your teeth and that is causing bad breath.'

I stopped merely to pause in my line of thinking, but Stan butted in, as
if in shock.

`Are you telling me, Master, that here you worry about a guy's bad
breath?' and he indicated the Aloe Palace in general. He did not appear
to believe what he was hearing.

`Stan, do you always interrupt a Master?'

`No, Master,' and with a grin, he said `only when I'm shocked off my
perch.'

I let him shut up before continuing, and he sobered down.

`We'll set you up with our dentist who will be here shortly. It will be
full day's work. If you don't know what is going to be done, ask Mehmed
tonight to smile.'

Stan nodded, but stayed quite.

`No, the reason why I wanted to speak to you is about your arse.'

He started to get red around his cheeks and ears.

`It is not a pretty sight and untreated it is going to cause you severe
problems in time. So tomorrow, you will be taken to the university
Hospital for a couple of days and that problem will be looked after. No
more piles and haemorrhoids. Another thing. Hold out your hands.'

He held them tentatively out in front of him, not knowing what it was in
aid of. His fingers and thumbs were a mass of warts and growths. I had
not seen these at the auction rooms because he had been at display with
his hands behind his head. A point to be remembered at future auctions. I
could not believe I, an Englishman, was even thinking of future slave
auctions, but I was!

`Looks pretty bad, Stan. How about we get rid of all those warts at the
same time?'

This time there was no grin and he was not looking at me but down at the
ground.

`Why, Master?' -- his voice was somewhat muffled.

`Why what, Stan?'

`Why all of this? Are you going to sell me on again?'

`Whatever gave you that idea? I have never sold a slave yet.'

`Why all of this, Master? In eight years no one has given me the time of
day. I have had to eat slops that pigs would not have touched. Last
night, I had biscuits put into my mouth, I was washed and shaved. I had a
guy give me two blowjobs to end all blowjobs and today a doctor gave me a
medical that not even the oil-rig crowd could equal. And now you want me
to have dental care and to have medical treatment at a university
hospital?'

`Why, Stan? Because I can and because it pleases me. Do I need another
reason?'

His shoulders shook and he could not answer as the tears were coursing
down his cheeks, and I merely put my hand on his shoulder until he could
compose himself.

`As Hassan will not be having anybody in his bed tonight or for a couple
of night until his arse heals up a bit, how about you having a real treat
with two guys who will give you a blowjob to really end all blowjobs? And
by the time, I have finished with you, your medical and dental treatment
will have cost me more than your price. `

Stan did not know whether to laugh or to cry and merely went on his knees
to say, `Master, you will never ever have to worry about me being your
slave' and he kissed my feet as if they were porcelain china.

I assigned Food and Drink to him that night and they both looked hugely
pleased the following morning. If Stan had `displayed' any more than he
did, I would have had to step around him at the following morning's
inspection.

As I had words that day with Hassan and now with Stan, I thought that I
might as well speak with Andy McTee, the intended English teacher. So I
had him called. He came running and dripping wet as he had been swimming
in the pool. I stopped him at the door and said we would walk and talk in
the courtyard while he dried off in the warm evening air.

Now that he was cleaned up, he looked a lot better. His red pubes were
down to a nice trim. The buzz cut on his head suited him. His totally
shaved body did seem somewhat thin for his height.

`How was your day, Andy?'

`Apart from the flogging in the courtyard this morning, as predictable
as I was told it would be.'

I looked at him, if he were tying to make a joke. But he was not.

`Do you know why I bought you? And by the way, you usually start a
sentence with the word `Master''

He looked at me and saw that I was not joking.

`Master, no, I do not' he replied carefully.

`I want you to teach the slaves to speak English.'

He looked confused. `But, Master, they do already.'

`Not quite. Eight of them do, but seventeen of them do not, and these
have been learning it from three of those who do, Ross, Bob and Greg, who
is my trainer and who administered the caning, I could prefer to call it,
this morning.'

`Some nineteen who are not native speakers will also be taking two hours
of Arabic a day until they speak it well enough to get through a whole
afternoon and evening speaking the language. That's where Hassan is
supposed to come in as he taught the language in Somalia, but now I am
having my doubts. Starting off here by trying to strangle your bedmate is
not my idea of a good start.'

We walked almost a full circle of the courtyard in silence. Andy did not
venture a question.

`No questions, Andy?'

`Master, I try not to ask questions when I feel confused and I very
confused now.'

`Well, ask a very confused question. I won't hold that against you.'

`Last night? Was that usual?'

`Last night was what usual?'

`Last night, everyone seem to have someone in their bed with them.'

`Ah. Everyone here has a buddy, who feeds his buddy, washes and shave
his buddy, milks his buddy -- did you observe that in the showers?'

Andy nodded but made no comment.

`And at night, the buddy is companion and friend and blanket and if
needed a sexual partner. Does that answer your question?'

`Yes, Master. And who chooses the buddy?'

It was my turn to smile, if not laugh outright.

`Initially, I choose the buddy, depending on who is available. But each
slave chooses his own buddy after a month, and if either want to change,
they know that they can go and choose again, but since we started the
system here at the Aloe Palace no one has. Why have you your eye on a
buddy already?'

He smiled a crooked smile. `No, Master.'

`Or would you have difficulty in having a buddy? Is that what you are
trying to say?'

`No, Master. I was married. I got divorced. Until last night, I never
had a blowjob, and I was afraid to move until the guy last night was
finished, and I could have died in the showers this morning until I saw
everyone else engaged in the same. Why, Master?'

`Andy, if for nothing else, after a round of sex, a blow job, or milking
or whatever, there is a lot less testosterone around in an all-male
working environment. And also, if you know that you are going to have sex
at a set time with a partner of your choosing, there are a lot fewer
fights. In fact, until the incident last night, there have been no
fights.'

`Now, Andy, a direct question, in fact, two. Are you really a virgin
back there? You said a vet's finger only?' - and I smacked his bum.

`Yes, Master,' he said with a swallow. `Master, I still don't
understand.'

`Andy, when you find a partner, he is going to take your virginity
sooner or later. You are thirty eight and may not be as flexible shall we
say as a sixteen year old. The overseers here are very experienced and
they are going to help you in that department so to speak.'

`Master, could we not let it happen, when it happens...if it happens?'
He sounded plaintive.

`We could, but we won't. By which, I take it that you are scared
shitless of someone being up your bum. Am I right? Or am I right?'

`Scared shitless describes it to a tee, Master. Just one question, if I
may?'

I nodded.

`Is everyone as candid about things here as you seem to be, Master?'

`I am not candid, Andy. I am to the point. But yes, everyone here is
very very candid I can tell you, and you will help yourself a lot by
being so as well.'

`On a separate issue, if I may' I continued `the doctor is concerned
about your health and your weight.'

`I don't know what weight I am now, Master, but I used to be 95
kilos.'

`You are 75 kilos now. So since being a slave you have lost 20 kilos, in
what? Four years?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Normally here, there is breakfast and dinner of two slave biscuits each
meal, fed to you by your buddy. They are more than enough for a life of
sitting down, but just fine for an active life. Two of my friends, who
are not slaves, actually diet on them quite successfully. And you always
have all the water you want at any time of day or night.

`But, we may,' I continued, `have to feed you a bit more.'

I don't know what it is about people's stomachs but taking about food
actually makes them rumble and Andy's did just that.

We are just at the courtyard entrance to the kitchens, so I told Andy to
stay put, and went it to tell Flavio to put on a pot of the vegetable
soup with vitamins. I told him the problem and he was quick on the uptake
saying that he would blend the vegetables to make a puree so that it did
not affect the Andy's digestion, as he had done with Ali, the Kurdish
slave previously.

Half an hour later Andy was hunkered down on the floor of the kitchen to
a bowl of soup which he would continue to have for three months until his
weight -- caused by a variety of ground up vitamins and pills and the
extra food had crept up to 81 kgs and to the doctor's satisfaction.

I thought that with Andy's age, his first sex might be a real problem,
so I had him bed down for three nights with Yuriy and his lover Radek,
whose cock just never goes down.

After the first night, Yuriy said to me at morning inspection, `Master,
you will have no trouble with Andy any more. Radek took him three times
last night and I took him this morning.'

I could not resist myself when passing by Andy and saying, `Some rather
penetrating experiences last night, eh, Andy?'

He swallowed and blinked, `Yes, Master.'

`Any problem?'

`No, Master. Just a bit sore.'

`That's what I like to hear, Andy.'

 to be continued...