Date: Wed, 30 May 2012 18:09:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: 'The Bezistan Chronicles'  Chapter 15  Gay Male / Authoritarian

THE BEZISTAN CHRONICLES
Chapter 15: 'The Master Returns'

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years.

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Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris)
Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

The characters and ideas in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be
used without his permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and
don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add pictures."


Part 1:'Daoud'

Rashid is in a hurry. Pulling back on his ponies' reins, he brings them to
a halt at the foot of the front steps of his palace. After their run from
the airstrip both ponies are severely stressed. Their massive, sweat
stained chests heave from their exertions and the muscles of their powerful
legs quiver like jelly. Fortuitously, they are to enjoy a brief respite
before being delivered to the Bezistan for their punishments.

Rashid waits impatiently as a young slave hurries forward and, crouching on
all fours, offers his naked back to his Master as a step down from the
carriage. Stepping out on to the slave's back, Rashid pauses; he looks
around for Daoud, his major domo who should be here to greet him on his
return.

Palace protocol dictates that the major domo should always be present at
all his departures and arrivals and Daoud's absence angers him. It's most
uncharacteristic of Daoud not to be here and Rashid wonders darkly

"Why isn't my major domo here to greet me?"

Angrily, he grinds his heels into the slave's naked flesh causing him wince
and his arms to buckle.  Rashid is furious; the slave knows he must remain
steady under his Master's feet and not move when serving as a step down out
of the cart. He is rewarded with a torrent of fearful abuse and the promise
of ten strokes of the cane.

The terrified slave trembles at his Master's anger and profusely begs his
forgiveness. Rashid however isn't in a forgiving mood and increases the
punishment to twenty strokes. The weeping slave falls silent for fear of
angering his Master even further.

Rashid has put in place certain protocols that govern the recognition of
his exalted rank and it is incumbent on all who serve him in the
palace-both freeman and slave - to rigidly adhere to them.  And his
departures and arrivals fall within these protocols.

His departures from the palace are of course self-evident - it's simply a
matter of him informing Daoud of his intention to do so. His arrivals back
at the palace are less so and for this purpose Rashid has instructed that
during his daylight absences, a slave, equipped with binoculars, must
always be posted as a lookout scanning the heat-hazed horizon and watching
for his return. It is this slave's role to hastily inform Daoud of his
imminent arrival and to give the major domo sufficient time to take up his
position at the foot of the steps. For those occasions when Rashid is
absent at night he relies on a slave running ahead of him with sufficient
speed and time to alert his household of his impending arrival.

Rashid is furious that this obviously hasn't happened and he is determined
someone -anyone - will be punished for this gross insult to his
person. Certainly, the slave acting as the lookout will feel the full fury
of his anger.

Rashid knows this slave. He's a young Frenchman who has served as a
pleasure slave within the palace for some two years or so. Rashid had
earlier used this slave quite extensively before losing interest in him and
placing him in the general pool of slaves made available to his guests for
their use or to be offered as rewards to his loyal staff. The slave had
proved popular with both guests and staff but this popularity has worked
against him. Too much usage had loosened the slave's formerly considerable
attractions and several months ago - knowing that his major domo fancied
the slave- he'd graciously allocated him to Daoud's service for use as both
his bed slave and as his lookout.

Obviously the slave has failed in his duties and this dereliction of duty
will cost him dearly.  Tomorrow, the slave will be sent to the quarries to
work out his remaining days as a heavy duty, work slave.

No doubt, Daoud will have some plausible explanation for his absence but
Rashid isn't in the mood for excuses. No, Daoud shares the responsibility
for what has happened - or rather what hasn't happened - and he too must be
punished.

Of course, he can't send Daoud to the quarries of the fields - although the
thought of Daoud, stripped naked and working as a slave is an amusing one -
and the vision of Daoud's huge, floppy belly and sagging ass working in a
team of lean, strong, muscular slaves makes him chuckle.

But that can't happen. Daoud's family have always served the al-Bahr family
and as a faithful retainer he is deserving of Rashid's grudging
clemency. But he must know that he has angered Rashid and that there is a
price to pay for this.

In addition to losing his bed slave, Rashid decides that Daoud will also be
denied access to all other slaves within the palace and on the estate for
an indefinite period of time. Rashid decides the loss of his favourite
slave and the taking away of his 'privileges 'is punishment enough for
Daoud. It is an appropriate penalty for the old lecher.

Somewhat mollified, Rashid begins to climb the steps to his palace and his
thoughts turn to the three slaves waiting in his apartments for his
return. The thought of their heads pressed to the floor and their elevated,
striped asses sweetens his thoughts and mellows his mood.

Suddenly from within the palace he hears the sound of the gong announcing
his return. Too late; the gong should have sounded on his approach along
the driveway and not as he climbs the steps and Daoud should have been in
position at the bottom of the steps. His mood darkens once more and he
surmises - rightly - that there is great confusion behind the heavy, double
doors as his slaves scurry into their positions to greet him. Looking up,
he sees Daoud hurrying down the steps towards him.  The major domo is red
faced and covered in confusion as he begins his grovelling apologies.

"A thousand, thousand pardons, Your Highness. I beg your forgiveness Your
Highness. But I......."

"I don't want excuses," Rashid coldly cuts him short, "I want an
explanation for your gross dereliction of duty and for the insult to my
person. I am most displeased with you, Daoud and someone will be punished
for it. Now tell me -who is responsible?"

Daoud recognises the cold anger in Rashid's voice and knows he won't be
easily placated. Trembling, he nevertheless tries to explain.

"A thousand pardons Your Highness! But I was absent over at the far side of
the palace - in the wing you asked me to prepare for your esteemed father,
Prince Youssef. I was there to see what needed to be done to prepare it for
when he takes up residence. As you know it is some distance from there to
the front door and I had insufficient time to........"

"Weren't you advised of my approach? Didn't the lookout tell you I was
coming?"

The lookout did in fact try to advise Daoud of Rashid's return with ample
time to spare but couldn't find him. Daoud had forgotten to inform the
slave that he would be absent on the far side of the palace and the slave
had wasted valuable time in looking for him. This time wasted in finding
Daoud allowed Rashid to arrive back at the palace unannounced and the blame
for this should rest with Daoud and not the slave.

"Your Highness, it's a long way from that wing of the pal.........."
Daoud's excuse trails off weakly as he is once more cut short by Rashid's
determined questioning.

"Are you saying that you didn't have time to get from the far side of the
palace to the front steps? Is that what you're telling me, Daoud?"

"Yes, Your Highness but......."

"Then obviously you weren't warned of my return with enough time to allow
you to have the palace slaves in place and for you to be in position at the
foot of the steps for my arrival. Is that what you're saying - that the
lookout is at fault?"

Daoud's devious nature senses a way out of his predicament. Rashid seems to
be asking if the lookout is to blame and Daoud is only too happy to deflect
the blame onto the hapless slave. After all, it's better for the slave to
feel Rashid's wrath rather than him. Anyway the slave can't defend himself,
can he?

"Unfortunately that's too true, Your Highness. The lazy dog was negligent
in his duties and dawdled when he should have hurried. Had he done so, I
would have had plenty of time to greet you."

"Then why didn't you say so at the outset, Daoud? If the slave is to blame
you should have said so. I could be excused for believing you were trying
to protect the slave."

Rashid is enjoying himself as he watches his major domo squirm under his
relentless questioning.  Rashid is astute enough to know that Daoud is
lying, that he is the one at fault and the slave is blameless. But by
banishing his favourite slave to the quarries, Rashid is also punishing
Daoud. True the slave is to pay the greater penalty for Daoud's dereliction
of duty but that can't be helped.  Anyway it doesn't really matter to
Rashid whether the slave serves him in the palace or the quarries.

"Forgive me, Your Highness. But it's true. I was trying to protect the
slave from your displeasure.  Forgive me please?"

"It was noble of you to think of the slave, Daoud and it does you
credit. But you of all people should know better than to shield a slave
from feeling the rightful anger of his Master. No, the slave must be
punished. He is banished from the palace and tomorrow morning you will
deliver him personally to the quarries where he is to spend the rest of his
miserable existence. You're to wait as he is fitted with his shackles and
you're not to leave until he has felt the whip on his back. Do you
understand?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

Daoud is upset at Rashid's decision. He is to lose his favourite
bed-slave. Still the palace is full of other desirable young slaves and no
doubt he'll soon find a suitable replacement. Anyway, one slave is as good
as another and slaves do come and go. It doesn't pay to become too attached
to just one slave. But Rashid is not yet finished and continues with his
judgement.

"Though your efforts to protect the slave from my anger were no doubt done
with your good intentions, I can't allow them to go unpunished. The
question of whether or not a slave is to be punished rests solely with
me. You should not seek to circumvent my decisions. I know the slave is
your favourite and for your part in this regrettable affair he won't be
replaced and you are denied access to all other slaves for an indefinite
period. I think this loss of privileges will help you to remain focused on
your duties in future. Don't you, Daoud?"

Rashid has enjoys toying with his major domo. He has allowed Daoud to lie
his way out of his predicament by manipulating his responses. This is one
of Rashid's many talents and one which he often uses in his dealings with
his business associates. Those who know Rashid well, listen carefully to
what he is saying to avoid falling into the traps that he skilfully sets
for the unsuspecting.  Unfortunately, Daoud isn't astute enough to avoid
becoming a victim to Rashid's word games.

Shattered at his punishment, Daoud nonetheless has no other option than to
silently accept Rashid's decision. In the coming days his enforced
abstinence will make him extremely bad-tempered and it will be the palace
slaves who bear the full brunt of his displeasure.

Rashid still has several other questions to ask of Daoud.

"Did you deliver the young slave I left in your charge earlier to the whip
master? And was he severely caned?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The slave was punished as you commanded and his
buttocks display the ferocity of his chastisement."

"That's excellent and where is he now?"

"He awaits your pleasure in your apartments, Your Highness. After his
punishment, I had him made ready for you and then placed him on his knees
as you instructed. That was some time ago, Your Highness."

"Then I must not keep the slave waiting any longer."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Part 2: `Aindrias'

The muffled sound of a distant gong announces our Master's return to the
palace; we now wait for his arrival back in his private apartments. We are
oblivious to the drama being played out between our Master and Daoud, his
major domo and we know nothing of his resultant, bad mood.

My fellow slaves quake with fear and for good reason. They, more than any
other slaves working in the palace know of our Master's unpredictability;
many times they have been the victims of his mercurial temperament and this
violent mood swings. The angry stripes on their backs and asses are grim
testimony to both.

Forbidden to ever talk to one another or to leave the apartments, their
lives are unimaginably bleak.  They have no interaction with the other
palace slaves and their unnatural, silent world is limited to the immediate
environs of our Master's personal suite of rooms. The only sounds they are
ever permitted to make- indeed the Master encourages them to vocalise their
pain - are in the punishment room as our Master chastises them.

I wonder about their silence. I'm not to know that our Master subscribes
very much to the notion of a slave being 'seen but not heard'. Neither
slave would be foolish enough to speak in his presence for fear of dire
punishment. Why then, given his insistence that they must never talk,
doesn't our Master simply mute his personal slaves?

Being a naive work slave, I fail to recognise this as one of my Master's
many displays of power to which all the palace slaves are routinely
subjected. The unpredictability of his moods and the uncertainty of his
decisions keep his household slaves in a heightened state of awareness and
continually 'on their toes'.

If a slave is muted then obviously he can't talk and so my Master losses
that control over the slave's behaviour. From his point of view it is
better for the slave to keep his vocal chords but not be allowed to use
them. This gives my Master a greater sense of power over the slave and
re-enforces his total control of him. For our Master, there is great
satisfaction in watching as his body slaves struggle with their enforced
silence.

I pity these two slaves and by comparison I consider myself lucky. Even
though my work as a labouring slave is onerous, I'm lucky in that I have a
degree of freedom denied to them. I have the freedom to move around the
fields and stables as I work and once my day's labour is finished I can
talk freely with my fellow slaves - at least until I'm locked away on my
own for the night. Even during the day there are rare opportunities when we
slaves can have brief, whispered conversations.

But we must be vigilant; our overseers insist all our efforts are
channelled into our work and that we don't waste time in idle chatter. Many
times I've been caught in an unguarded moment and felt the sting of an
impatient overseer's whip. But at least we are able to converse; something
that is cruelly denied these two slaves who kneel beside me as we wait for
our Master's return.

Inevitably, their time of torment will end. Soon our master will grow bored
with them and replace them with new slaves. Then they will either be sold
as broken-in pleasure slaves - of lesser value than a newly trained,
pleasure slave - or be put to manual labour. Their fates aren't in their
hands of course and whether they end up in a bed or the fields depends very
much on the whims of our Master.

I know nothing about this man who owns me. My own existence as a common
work slave is in a way a blessing; it has kept me from his notice. I have
been indistinguishable among the many work slaves so remote from our Master
that he ignores us. Working in the fields and the stables I have been
invisible to him - that is until today. I don't know it but I'm now very
much in his thoughts.

The time spent on my hands and knees hasn't been wasted. I tried to use the
time to prepare my mind for my coming ordeal. Though partially prepared
emotionally, I wonder about the 'mechanics' of what is to happen. The
knowledge that I'm to have physical contact of the most intimate type with
him overwhelms me; it both frightens and excites me. These are the thoughts
that tumble through my mind as I kneel with my head pressed to the floor,
my ass raised and my legs spread open and waiting for his inspection.

Apprehensive as I am, I nevertheless feel a degree of excitement. The
anticipation of my sexual initiation causes my body to tremble and I feel
the involuntary tightening of my balls as my cock thickens and
lengthens. Desperately, I will it not to. Fearfully, I recall my Master's
anger when I'd dribbled onto the marble patio earlier today. I don't doubt
that this was a contributing factor in his decision to send me to the
whipping-yard. I am anxious not to incur a return visit to the whip-master
and thankfully the thought of this and the throbbing pain in my buttocks
cause me to wilt.

Suddenly, the door is flung open and our Master strides into the room. His
two body slaves scuttle forward on their hands and knees and kneel at his
feet. Unsure of what to do I follow their example and crawl to my Master.

The Master towers over us as we grovel around him but we dare not look up
at his exalted face. I am overawed by the majesty and mystique of this
prince who owns me. For a common field slave being here is akin to being in
the presence of a god and I shake with emotion. However, my two fellow
slaves tremble not from emotion but from justifiable fear.

Wordlessly he snaps his fingers and the two slaves leap to their feet. He
has no need for words; his slaves are well versed in reading their Master's
mind. One hurries through an opening in a far wall and I hear the sounds of
his feverish activity and the running of water as the Master's shower is
prepared. The other busies himself with undressing our Master. I remain on
my knees, fearfully unsure of what is expected of me. Then I'm ordered to.

"Stand up! Display your body!'

With an alacrity born of fear, I scramble to my feet and stand before my
Master. With my eyes downcast I'm aware of his nakedness more than I can
see it. Then he places a hand under my chin and raises my head until our
eyes meet. He gazes into mine with such intensity that I surrender and
lower my eyes to the floor.

"How old are you, slave?"

"Master, I don't know for sure."

I nervously whisper my reply.

It is true that I no longer know my exact age; I only have an approximation
of it. Like all my Master's slaves, I haven't any access to time; indeed I
no longer know the exact month and I'm uncertain about the year. All the
milestones of our lives and the observation of the year's festivals are
denied us. We live only for the moment and we must take each day as it
comes. I remember the date of my birth and the year of my enslavement -and
these would have been recorded in the database that my Master keeps on all
his slaves - but beyond that I have little knowledge of my exact age.

"Earlier I sent you for punishment, slave. Were you adequately punished?"

I'm unsure of what my answer should be. I consider that my punishment had
been sufficiently severe but something tells me that this isn't the answer
I should give. Unsophisticated slave that I am, it is perhaps the body
slaves' sense of fear that warns me to be careful.

"I don't know Master."

I answer humbly. Thankfully, it is the right answer.

"Then turn around and let me see your ass."

My Master walks over to me and pauses to examine my buttocks. I wince as
his finger traces out the fiery, red stripes of my caning. He doesn't speak
and I wait apprehensively. I remember his earlier warning that should he
not be satisfied with my punishment then he will cane me himself. Will he
be satisfied? This is answered by his next question to me.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Obviously, I'm not to be caned and my sense of relief is overwhelming.

"Yes, Master." Once more my answer is barely audible.

"Then tell me why you're here. Speak up slave so that I can hear you."

"I'm to provide you with pleasure, Master."

And you've been prepared for this? You have been purged and cleaned?"

"Yes Master."

To be continued....


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