Date: Mon, 8 Nov 2004 06:08:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Four The Same, Part Eight

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