Date: Sun, 30 Jan 2005 13:51:53 +0000 From: Gerry Taylor Subject: The Seventh Desert - Chapter 19 - Gay - Authoritarian This is the nineteenth chapter (ex twenty two) of a novel about present-day slavery and gay sex. Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission, gay, sex If you are underage to read this kind of material or if it is unlawful for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage now. Chapter 19 -- The fine-tuning of training A small number of slaves is always in some sort of trouble; never serious stuff, simply annoying to their assistant Overseers, or worse still to their Head of Household or Stables, with situations of lateness and the likes. Because of the level of consistent manual labour on the farms, the slave biscuit diet had been expanded to include our own vegetables in a type of soup, or ratatouille at the evening dinner. Flavio coped marvellously well in the kitchens, part of which was dedicated exclusively to preparing each day a hundred and fifty kilos of the vegetables in season on the farms for the slaves. One of the advantages of well-trained Overseers and Heads of function is that there is an over-flow system as we call it. If a slave is not busy, he must offer his services first to the Head of Household where he is based and then to the Head of Stables. So, one day a slave may be the lead worker of a kofila and the next part of another helping out. I noticed this in the kitchens, where Zoran and Jan were now almost permanently assisting Viktor and Efim with the preparation of over a hundred kilos of our own vegetables for the evening meal of the slaves, as David Tuttle was normally out of the Lemon Palace and gone to work in and around the capital city. I also noticed that Marko now had a permanent helper in young Luke Peoples learning how to prepare desserts. The first day I saw them there, it also happened that there were two others whom I did not recognise, making up the half dozen on the vegetable preparation. One of these two unknowns had two fresh weals across his buttocks. As I passed him by, I put my hand in the middle of his back and as he caught my eye, I let my hand slide down to his backside and lightly let my fingers run over the two weals. Luke let out a guffaw at this, but kept his head down doing whatever he has doing. `Why were you punished?' I asked the slave and before he could answer there was the sound of a big snore from the far side of the kitchen, again from Luke's direction, but I could not be sure. The teenager was the only one smirking in that area where he and Marko, Sevil and Vidor were working `I overslept, Master.' He saw my upraised eyebrows. `Twice, Master.' `And only two strokes for that. You have a very kind Overseer. Others would have given you six at least.' There was a further smothered laugh from the far side of the kitchen. `Yes, Master. Flavio is a good Overseer.' `There is something we must remedy. Get me a cane.' The slave's eyes opened wide and I saw Flavio looking at me. The laughter and sniggering had died down. The slave went over to Flavio who reached inside a counter press and drew out a three-foot camel-cane. It might have been my imagination but I thought the slave was slower coming back to me than he was going over to Flavio, but he handed me the cane. `Bend over and hold your ankles.' The slave complied immediately, his smooth wrinkle free skin the colour of light coffee drawn tight on his back, the vertebrae of his spine each individually creating a small mountain range of bone from his mid-back to his coccyx. `Luke. Come over here.' There was glacial silence in the kitchens. Luke Peoples came over, his eyes blinking rapidly. `Now, tell me, Luke, what was so very funny about anyone getting punished for sleeping in?' `Nothing, Master,' he said, very quietly. `And laughing at the marks of punishment on a slave?' `Nothing, Master,' again spoken even more quietly. `Do you see how the slave is bent over in the position to receive a punishment?' `Yes, Master.' `Bend over beside him in the same way.' Luke's eyes were blinking now even more rapidly, but he did as he was told. I tapped the bent-over slave on the head with the cane, who half-twisted his head to look up at me. `Do you wish to punish this slave for laughing at you?' `Oh, no, Master. It was nothing. I deserved my punishment.' I jerked my head to indicate to him to get out of the way. `Indeed, you did. But you did not deserve being laughed at.' The slave half-shuffled back and over towards the safety of Flavio. `Flavio, it is your kitchen and your right to punish or not as you see fit,' I said extending to him the cane. `Yes, indeed, Boss, it is,' he said with a smile. `I think the same for this pagliaccio as for the other, who really did deserve another two, but it was a busy morning. Please step to one side, Boss,' he said as he took the cane from me. Flavio landed two resounding strokes on Luke's teenage backside. Luke shot up in the air at the second stroke clutching his bruised buttocks. `Flavio, he did not count off' I said. `Do you want to do it again and have him count this time?' `Boss, with respect, if I may I'll keep those two strokes in reserve for another day.' I nodded to Flavio at his respectful approach to the matter. `Now, Luke, in this Palace, you have just learned that you do not laugh at a slave who has been punished; secondly, you must always count off the strokes and thirdly, you must thank the Overseer who has punished you for doing his duty in correcting you.' `Thank you, Flavio, for correcting me.' `And what about him?' I said motioning with my head towards the slave he had been laughing at. `Sorry, for laughing at you.' The slave nodded back that he had understood at least the apology and seemed to be a bit wary of saying or doing anything else. By the time, the evening meal had come around; the rumour had it that all the slaves in the kitchens that day including the Overseer had been personally punished by the Master. That there were a couple of weals on two of the kitchen slaves' backsides did nothing to stop the bushfire comments. Some rumours are too good to contradict, especially when they help fine-tune the training of the Palace slaves. With the two Russians at the Lemon Palace, I was more concerned with their general health than anything else. Fotis had gone into the first compound rather quickly after his tests. I asked Randy in charge of the surgery and hospital ward to have the medical staff see me when the files on the three recent slave purchases were ready. It was Miraldo Coelho who actually came across with them. `The Greek is perfectly healthy, Jonathan. The other two are reasonably healthy slaves considering what they have gone through. Perfect eyesight in both of them. Extensive dental work needed on both according to Cal, who took these two beauties out of their mouths.' Miraldo pushed across the table towards me, two pieces of shining metal. The bits, for that is what they were, were dental plates each about five centimetre long and three wide, of very thin stainless steel with holes. They looked clean and I presumed that they had been washed. I put one in my mouth and almost choked as my tongue was forced to the bottom of my mouth. `They were attached to molars on either side and apparently are put in to stop the slaves screaming when being flogged or being kept permanently quiet. Some beauties, eh, Jonathan?' I didn't answer Miraldo as I was dabbing my lips with a handkerchief. Miraldo pressed on, `However, from the medical point of view, Lev Radkov, he's the older of the two, needs an urgent operation for a large hernia; the other, Rurik Vasilov -- they are first cousins by the way, Jonathan, did you notice the family resemblance? -- is going to need reconstruction work on his anal passage. From what we understand he has had various objects inserted into him over the years.' I told Miraldo to do what had to be done and to have them brought to me when they had cleared all the medical hurdles. That finally turned out to be the middle of September. For two slaves who had been in Dahra for all of four years, the Arabic of Lev Radkov and Rurik Vasilov was all but non-existent. They had been impeded from speaking by the bit-plates, but they seemed to understand only about a hundred or so words or phrases. If it was that it was a lot. I also thought that as former sailors they would have had more English, but it was not so. I dropped over to Yves Fournier's surgery after about two weeks. A slave, whom I did not recognise, was sitting at the ward desk and he jumped up immediately and said, `I'll get Randy, Master.' I thought it was interesting that he did not say, `I'll get Dr. Fournier' or `one of the doctors', but Randy, the assistant Overseer. Four of the ward beds were occupied. One slave had what I took to be a dislocated shoulder in web-netting and was asleep; a second had a large gauze on his head. `What happened to you?' `The doctor removed two cysts, Master. Thank you for asking.' The third bed was occupied by one of the two new Russian slaves lying on his stomach with what had to be a cage over his lower back covered by a sheet. He was fast asleep and slightly snoring every second or third intake of breath. The fourth bed was occupied by the other Russian. Whom I did not yet know. He too was fast asleep and his left hand was out holding the left hand of the other slave. My reverie was broken by Randy's voice at my side, `Boss, I didn't know you were coming over. I was in the laundry.' I smiled to myself. The hospital ward apart from the Palaces themselves and the medical staff quarters are the only places where sheets are used. It was Randy who had insisted through Dr. Fournier that `a real hospital has real sheets', and so it has been almost since day one. `These two?' I nodded in the direction of the Russians. `They have been attended to, Boss. Both have had a full day's session with Dr. Thorson and they both now have a perfect set of teeth each. Rurik here has had extensive anal surgery with Dr. Fournier. You could have put a fist up there no problem and he was cut up internally. It will take him a couple of weeks yet to recover.' I nodded at the other. `Lev had quite a hernia at the back of his balls, as big as a mandarin. He'll be fine. They sleep a lot as you can see and quite literally after every meal they go back to sleep as if they are trying to catch up on a month's lost sleep.' Randy was smiling to himself as if at some private joke. `What's so funny?' `When they're awake, Boss, they keep touching the sheets as if they have to prove that they are here. And they hold hands all the time they are awake. It's strange.' `Not strange at all, Randy. They've just never seen such clean sheets as in this well run hospital ward,' and I ran my hand over his shoulders and gave him a pat on the back, `and as for holding hands, maybe they just want to know that they are still together. Someone said they are first cousins.' `Yes, Boss. We found that out when Ivan and Bob came over and Ivan translated what they were saying. They have learned nothing here in Dahra. They were not even sure whether they were still in the Gulf.' As we were speaking, the slave in the last bed woke up with a start and blinked his eyes. They flew open when he saw me. `Boss, this is Lev.' I went over to the slave who had now dropped the other's hand and was protectively clutching the edge of the sheet with both of his. He appeared as skittish as a frightened colt. I just stood there for some seconds until he seemed more settled and reached out slowly and touched his chin, pressing down. His mouth opened slowly and the newly cleaned and capped teeth shone out. `Has he seen these, Randy?' `I don't think so, Boss.' `Get me a mirror.' As I waited I let my hand rest on the slave's chest. I could feel the hammering of his heart. His eyes never left mine, but they had stopped their rapid fearful and almost feral blinking. Randy was back with a square surgical mirror. `Let him see Cal's handiwork.' I think Lev Radkov was shocked to see his own face after all these years, let alone his new mouth of teeth. I leaned forward and pulled down his lower lip and he half-smiled into the mirror at the sight. `Okay, Lev?' Again, he seemed shocked that I would know his name, but he answered something of which I only understood the `okay' and the `spassiba' bits. At least, he had said thanks for what the doctors had done. As I was about to leave, he seemed to pluck up some more courage and pointing to his companion still flat out to the world and then back to himself, he repeated the `spassiba' bit. I got the message. Two weeks later the two new Russian slaves looked much improved. Their infibulation rings and nipple rings had disappeared, as well as the rings in their ears. I knew from past experiences that the hole in the underside of the urethra would most likely heal over in about six months. That of the nose might require surgery. Their teeth looked fine and the medical reports said their operations had been a success. I wondered to what use I could put these two and told Randy to find them something to do. End of Chapter 19 To be continued... Contact points: e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories 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 enjoy the story-line, do tell your friends to subscribe to the mailing list by sending an e-mail to erotic_gay_stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com