Date: Fri, 04 Feb 2005 15:12:28 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Seventh Desert - The sapping of will - Gay - Authoritarian

The Seventh Desert by Gerry Taylor
This is the twentieth chapter (ex twenty two) of a novel about
present-day slavery and gay sex.
Keywords:  authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining,
submission, gay, sex
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for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage
now.

  Chapter 20 -- The sapping of will

  I had made a mistake in July in going to the opal mine by car. It had
been almost a three hour journey down to the Seventh Desert and a three
hour journey back. With the time spent there, it was in fact a full day
out of the calendar. So I had the Puma ExCom helicopter now collect me
early each first Monday of every month and return me after midday.
  I must admit that I gave Sevil Garibov a bit of a shock when I told him
that I was going to the opal mine and that he was coming with me. Were he
not a slave, I would have had to couch my words more carefully. As it
was, he almost fainted, but recovered when I told him that I wanted him
as steward on the flight and that he was to stock a small bar.
  `Do you still remember how to serve a glass of Chablis in mid-air?'
  `Yes, Master. You gave me quite a shock. No problem with a
well-chilled Chablis.'
  I told him it would be every first Monday and he nodded his
understanding.
  Stan, my Property Manager, created a helipad in the centre of the Lemon
Palace courtyard with a large painted white H at its centre. The
courtyard itself could have handled half a dozen landings simultaneously.

  In any new venture, it takes time to come to grips not just with the
currents and eddies of the business, but with its nuances before you can
get an actual feel for how it is going. My one great asset here was
Zabian al-Kibbe, the Lebanese General Manager and his team of thirty
staff, twenty five of whom were mostly engaged in supervisory security
matters. Initially, I thought that a ratio of ten slaves to one staff
member was a bit on the dangerous side, but Zabian explained the safety
procedures to me, but once I saw the systems in place, I agreed with him.
  Simple changes in production, clearer changes in security, water now
coming from the Aloe Palace distribution unit twice daily, a new sifting
system, had all put the opal mine on profits of just three million euro a
month since I had bought it. If this kept going, I would have my purchase
price back in less than three years.
   `That is with all bills paid, Sir Jonathan. The only overhead we have
at the end of any month is the lease on the new equipment.'
  `While there are some tax advantages in a leasing agreement for
corporate entities, there are none for me as an individual and ultimate
owner, so use the monthly profit, to get rid of the lease as quickly as
possible. I know that it is with Deckams. But when it is cleared, then
you will have a true net profit, and make sure the new security and
computer systems you want are top of the range. In fact, give me the
computer specifications and I'll have a consultant I know look over
them.'
  Zabian had the specs pulled by one of his minions.
  `The one worry I do have, Zabian, is how you are controlling the
former mercenaries sent down here.'
  `We have had two problem cases and they were sorted out in half a day.
There is none of this long-term punishment here. The sun, and the heat,
do that for us. Here the security staff deploys trustees -- slaves of
three years standing - throughout the entire production and mining
operation. The trustees have short whips. The security staff are armed
with modified prods with a low shock setting. The Supervisors have tasers
which will stun anything that moves.
  `We also monitor and record everything on CCTV for the protection of
the staff, the trustees and also for the protection of the slaves, not
just from the trustees but from one another. Also nothing gets out of the
mine except the opals produced each five days. Six helicopter shipments a
month, every five days a million euro of opals. All delivery lorries,
even our own water transporters are searched minutely every day they
leave. We are not concerned about a slave getting out, but rather a
single opal that does not get onto the production inventory.'
  `So, back to the mercenaries. No great difficulty with them?'
  `No, Jonathan. You seem to be worried on that score, so let me show
you.'
  Zabian spoke into his two-way radio which looked more like a mobile or
cellphone.
  `This will take ten minutes or so, but let me show you the computer
room while we wait,' and he escorted me into a cooler room with various
systems humming away.
  One of the staff there stood up and came over to us.
  `Show us the position of every slave in the mine at this moment.'
  The staff member pressed a single key and immediately two hundred and
seventy six red dots appeared on a three foot by two plasma screen on the
wall. I knew 276 was the number of slaves at the mine on that day and
that number, apart from the red dots, was to be seen in the top
right-hand corner of the screen.
  As I looked at the screen, various dots seemed to be leaving the
central section of the screen and heading towards a rectangular area,
which Zabian explained were the administrative offices.
  `These are the slaves I have just called.'
  On the screen the moving slaves seemed then to line up and stop not far
from the rectangle.
  `It is a radio link to the frequency of a watch-like bracelet. If any
slave goes outside the limits of the screen, alarms go off both visually
and audibly. In fact, the sirens would deafen you every time we test
them. The dots show us where each slave is,' Zabian stated.
  He held out his right wrist and on it was what looked like a steel
watch with a black screen on it. He nodded to the technician at the
console, who tapped in something on the keyboard.
  Zabian held up the watch. The words `Administration Building' had
appeared in red.
  `As you can see, I have been called here to the Administration
Building. The message can go to an individual watch or to all watches.
Everyone at the opal mine, slave and free man, has one of these.
Japanese. The latest.'
  Zabian then said, `Show us the trustees' to the technician at the
console, who pressed a second button and forty of the red dots became
forty blue dots, most of which were in the central area of the screen.
Again the number forty appeared in blue in the right hand corner of the
screen.
  `Staff,' he said and a further button was pressed.
  Thirty five green dots appeared on the screen all within the rectangle,
outside which there were now three lines of red dots.
  `We have four dishes on the roof in bomb proof, protected containers,
including two similarly protected satellite dishes.'
  `I saw nothing on the roof when coming in.'
  `No, you didn't and should not have. As I say,' Zabian continued,
`it is all protected not just from sight, both ground and air and
protected as well from the elements, from tampering with, from deliberate
harm. From the outside, it actually looks just like another floor, a part
of the structure. You would not know it was there unless you were
specifically looking for it. And, Sir Jonathan, this,' and he held out
his wrist again, `this is top secret never to be mentioned. Only two of
the staff here know the full details of this with myself and now you. The
less who know about how our top security works the better.'
  I nodded my understanding.

  We went outside into the sun and the heat of the mid-morning. It was
like stepping into a furnace and a sauna at the same time, but the sauna
was within your own clothes and the furnace was just outside your own
skin.
  The former mercenaries were standing in three rows in front of the
administration building. There was a number of trustees standing at
either end of the ranks. I took them to be trustees, though they were
naked, by the fact that they also all had an ankle bracelet on the right
leg, a leather-type belt attached to their waists to which was attached a
two-way radio, which crackled from time to time. I looked at one trustee
after one long crackle of static and his hand went immediately to turn
the radio either down or off, as it did not make a further sound. They
all had also a two foot crop, with a head of split leather attached to
their belts.
  As we arrived, one further figure emerged from the opal mine walking
with a strange gait to get in the last line of mercenaries. There was a
short chain linking his two ankles. As he placed himself beside the last
slave in the line, one of the Overseers touched his back with the prod.
The slave jerked, did not utter a word, but I could see that his legs
failed him and he half-collapsed on the sand.
  Zabian saw me looking over at the action.
  `The last slave to arrive at any call is always punished. The prod the
Overseer has used is at a fixed low setting. It is punishment without
harm.'
  One of the trustees shouted `at display' and I had the opportunity to
see the quick reaction time of those who were there for my inspection.

  The invader slaves were now just three months at their new work
location. There is something about how slaves stand, or look, or even
hold themselves when you view them, which allows you immediately to
assess if there is a problem or not.
  My first and immediate impression was that there was no problem with
these slaves and I commented this to Zabian.
  `Jonathan, the sun and the heat sap the will of even the strongest
here. The ankle bracelet is not just monitored by officialdom '- and he
waved a finger in the direction of the sky -- `but we piggy-back the
frequency. Secondly, each slave has the monitor-watch on his right wrist
and thirdly, these slaves have a short leg chain, which allows them to
walk easily, but slowly, and it stops running.'
  As we were speaking a horn sounded twice, not loudly, but very clearly
and slaves from down in the mine and around the surface area were quickly
moving towards a covered area, away from the mine and some distance from
the central administration block.
  `We no longer work from eleven to one, Sir Jonathan. But there is an
extra hour of work in the cool of the evening. It produces an extra four
per cent.'
  The slaves were going under large canvass awnings, where barrels of
water were to be seen with small cups attached. The slaves helped
themselves to water and then just lay down on the cool sand, or propped
themselves up against one another. Two appeared to be having sex and then
a further two started to have as well.
  However, the forty one I was looking at stayed where they were, and I
was moving down the first line viewing them. It was rather strange but I
thought for a moment that several of them were getting hardons. And then
I was quite sure that, yes, such was the case. I did not think that my
inspection would have anything to do with it.  They all seemed leaner
than when I last saw them and I mentioned these two points to Zabian.
  `It is a Pavlovian reaction, I am told, Sir Jonathan. The slaves rest
now for two hours out of the sun and are allowed to have sex. They must
come once during the midday break. I heard that you had something similar
in the early morning at the Palaces and I have found that it reduces
testosterone aggression considerably.'
  I found it interesting that here in the middle of a hot desert those
whose sexual orientation was most likely heterosexual would indulge so
quickly in homosexual activity. Perhaps the loss of their freedom, the
hopelessness of their immediate situation, their physical suffering in
working in such an intolerant climate, the need of companionship, all
combining would see the solace of sexual release with one of their own
former buddies and one of their own sex.
   `Which two did you have to discipline?'
  Zabian pointed out the two in question who now looked as submissive as
the rest.
  `There are two positive things about soldiers, former soldiers,
mercenaries and those previously in the military. First is that they know
that they cannot fight a superior force and secondly they are all good at
taking clear-cut orders. The last thing in particular. Give them a
clear-cut order and it will be done, more or less quickly, but it will be
done, because they know as sure as the Dahran sun is hot, that they will
be punished for not doing it.'
  `And what is the usual punishment?'
  `A formal punishment would be medium powered taser at the bottom of
the spine, just above the backside. Nothing sophisticated. It leaves the
slave jerking on the sand for some minutes, but he will be back working
in less than fifteen minutes and must make the time up at the end of the
workday. No one escapes work due to being punished.'
  Although we were walking past the slaves, I did notice that a further
three security personnel were stationed at different points behind and to
the side of myself and Zabian, and they were holding tasers in their
hands, not on their belts.
  I felt more comfortable in my mind in seeing for myself the more
submissive attitude and demeanour of the slaves. The slaves were `at
display'. If the truth were told, a number of the mercenary slaves,
although all had been depilated apart from pubic and pit hair and a very
high and tight marine type haircut, perspiring as they were in the hot
morning sun looked every bit of rough trade that some of them might once
have been or even currently were. Many had tattoos.
   `Have there been any accidents or deaths in the past three months? I
only saw a brief mention of something in your reports,' I asked Zabian.
  `In these three months, since you bought the mine, only two deaths,
but then it happens that way at times.  Some months go by with few
deaths, and then we have a spate all in one month. I would, however,
expect a further number before the end of the year. Exhaustion does take
its toll in this climate. Do you need these slaves for anything else, Sir
Jonathan?'
  `No, you may dismiss them.'
  He nodded to one of the trustees who seemed to be in overall charge
and, once dismissed, the slaves moved quickly out of the sun and under
the canvass awnings. Several started to embrace others who had been
waiting there.
  For my part, I felt that, although I was under a large golf-type
umbrella being held by a slave, I had actually run an Olympic ten
thousand meters.
  `How many of the 276 slaves here have been here for five years or
more?'
  I thought that the General Manager might have to look up that one, but
he had the fact at his finger tips and immediately said, `Only seven.'
  `And how many were originally bought between four and six years ago?'
  `I would say about eighty, Sir Jonathan.'
  I did some mental arithmetic. A survival rate of one in eleven after
just two and a half thousand days.
  `Have these seven shipped to the Lemon Palace. Komil could do with
some well-trained workers for the farms.'
  `And new stock?'
  `Buy as many as you need?'
  `Do you want the same procedures on slave purchases to apply?'
  I looked at Zabian.
  `What were those?' I enquired.
  `No purchase over twenty thousand euro; only Caucasian, Slav or Middle
East stock; preferably labourer or blue collar workers; no one over
thirty years of age; prior approval in each case.'
  `Zabian, let's stick to those same conditions, but you can up the
limit to twenty two thousand and you don't need approval beforehand.'
  `Thank you, Sir Jonathan, for that act of trust,' he replied.
  `What about their general health?'
  When I mentioned this to Zabian, he said, `They all get a monthly
check-up from the vet and while I can't remember the precise detail, all
of this lot have lost between four and eight kilos of fat since they came
here.'
  `If we can keep them healthy, they may live longer excluding this
climate,' I commented.
  `Dr. Haniff comes twice a month for a morning.'
  `The Indian vet?'
  `Dahran actually, but of Indian extraction. You know him?'
  `Yes, I had him do a number of castrations for me. How can he see 276
patients in two half-days?'
  `He doesn't. He only treats emergencies, sets or re-sets broken
bones, extracts bad teeth, gives shots of penicillin to those with
clap.'
  `Is clap a problem here?'
  `It happens at least once a month with one or two slaves. It's a
recurring problem.'
  I thought to myself that if the slaves were a controlled group, as
researchers say, with no outside contact, then penicillin over time
should have removed all such disease. If it was coming in, it was through
the staff that did have outside contact on their days off.
  `Have a word with Dr. Haniff and have him come for either two full
days or for four half-days a month and include all the staff in the
penicillin shots or whatever he gives the slaves. Whatever is getting in,
it's getting in too often.'

  We went back inside the administration building and one of the slaves
brought me up to the suite with which I was familiar.
  Sevil was there with another slave who was laying out  a change of
clothes.  Sevil offered me a glass of lemon-juice as I came through the
suite door.  As he is very submissive, he would never speak to me first
in a month of Sundays without being spoken to.  I had told him previously
not to be afraid to speak.
  `This is better for the thirst in this climate, Master, than anything
else.'
  I drank half the glass and offered the other half to Sevil's lips. He
took the glass and sipped it.
  `Thank you, Master.'
  I gave Sevil a wink, and he blushed a little.  I don't think he knows
how to really get a handle on me yet. I started to strip off my sodden
clothes before following the other slave into the shower where I could
hear water already running.
  The inspection of the mercenaries had left me randy and the attending
slave must have been expecting me to move on him, because his butt-hole
was well-lubricated when I fingered it and as the water splashed down on
us, I prepared to take him at my leisure - at my cool leisure.
  `What's your name, slave?'
  `John, sir, John Finch. Let me serve your pleasure, sir.'
  The accent was American. I put two fingers on the slave's shoulders
and he turned round and in under the warm water of the shower.
  `That's fine by me, John. Let me see how you pleasure a Master.'
  It was a long and most enjoyable shower with the slave doing his best
under the constant spray to keep me inside him and then in his mouth. I
will admit that his tonguing of my balls and scrotum was very well done
under rather watery conditions.
  When I came out of the shower much refreshed in mind and body, the two
slaves dried me off and thereafter Sevil stuck to me like a limpet.
  `Are you afraid, Sevil, that I am going to forget you and leave you
here?'
  `Yes, Master,' was his honest answer and again he looked afraid. It
must be painful to always live in fear of something over which you have
absolutely no control.
  I scratched behind an ear, `I won't forget you, Sevil,' and slightly
maliciously added, `at least, not on this occasion.'
  Sevil did not look at all happy until we were again in the air.

  Some slaves feel guilt or shame all the time. Guilt about having let
themselves be enslaved. Shame at having seen their families left to the
quirks of modern life. Shame simply about being slaves is particularly a
feature of those who have not yet fully accepted their slavery. And even
for those who have accepted their slavery, there is about what they
should have done for their Master, but may not have done well or at all.
  It is very easy for an experienced Master to spot that guilt, the lack
of eye contact, the furtive side looks, the avoidance of the Master.
Guilt also shows itself, when slaves come to say `thank you, Master'
without really having a reason for it.
  These thoughts were running through my mind which at times is working
on a number of levels when slaves are queued in the evening after dinner.
  Luke Peoples was in the line of waiting slaves, on his own and when his
turn came to come up the steps of the veranda to me, he reminded me of so
many young men, long limbed, gangly, not yet fully grown. He was filling
out and clearly the exercise programme was doing him well.
  `Thank you, Master,' he said kissing my feet and preparing to move
away all in one motion.
  `Why thanks, Luke?'
  He beamed that I remembered his name.
  `For not ordering Flavio to give me more than two strokes the other
evening,' was the reply.
  `You deserved more?'
  He grinned the Peoples' grin which Terry, his brother, also manages to
do so impishly well.
  `Maybe one or two more, Master. Flavio didn't hurt me. Sorry, he did,
but he didn't, if you know what I mean, Master. I shouldn't have
laughed in the first place.'
  `What do you like most here, Luke, and what do you like least?'
  `Most, Master? That's easy. The classes of English and Arabic. I love
learning when people explain things to me.'
  `You're going to the English classes? They are only for those who
don't speak English.'
  `That's-a me-a, Master. I-a don't-a speak-a da English-a' he said,
with a mimic and a laugh. `And I love all the gym and swimming classes.
I loved the sex techniques classes. I said I needed them more than anyone
else, as I only have my own hand. Everyone else has a buddy.'
  I was looking at Luke Peoples. He was a fine young slave and in time,
with the equipment he had between his legs, he would make a buddy
genuinely happy. But not just yet. He had a lot to learn. I would also
have loved to put his clear uncluttered mind at the service of Jens
Johanssen, but he was still too immature.
  `And what do you like least?'
  `The food, Master. I could kill for a burger and a coke.'
  I smiled at that, but said, `what you get at present in the slave
biscuits and the soup is all the protein and vitamins that you need.'
  `Yes, Master,' he said, with a sigh, `but it certainly does not
taste like a burger, or a coke.'
  I rubbed the stubble on his head a little and sent him on his way. I
certainly was not going to change the diet of the slaves any further,
beyond what I had already done by now giving them vegetable soup, made
from the produce of the farms, and then of course, the slave biscuits.
  They could thank me for a balanced diet, they could!

End of Chapter 20

To be continued...

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