Date: Sun, 06 Jun 2004 11:02:27 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Dahran Rebuttals - Chapter 14 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the fourteenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about present day
slavery and gay sex.



The Dahran trilogies are composed to date of 6 novels:



Trilogy one:

The Changed Life

The Reluctant Retrainer

The Market Offer



Trilogy two:

The Special Memories

The Dahran Way

The Dahran Rebuttals (this novel)



Keywords:

authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission,
gay, sex.



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 it is unlawful
for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage
now.



Contact points:

e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com

w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/

w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories

Yahoo! Messenger : gerrytaylor_78



Chapter 14--The assumption of compensation



 The Aloe Palace was empty. At least, that was what Pete Downings, my
Head of Household there, said.

 `Boss, it feels like the great outback. I walk through the rooms and I
expect to meet the family and they are not there. I expect to find Vedel
or Beno walking the baby and they're not there.'

 `I think you miss your match.'

 `Sorry, Boss?'

 `I think you miss Fiona. I think she and you got on.'

 `Yeah, Boss. Do you know we never once had a disagreement on anything?
I think we were like pages in a book, together, but different sort of.
Now, I feel at a loose end.'

 We were walking around the courtyard. Everything looked spic and span
and in the golden evening light, the warmth of the day still oozed out of
the walls and ground.

 `That is why, Pete, I wanted to talk to you. Gustav will complete his
move into the Palace in a few days. The Swedes will be moving into the
old servant and slave rooms on the third floor and they'll be looking
after themselves. So, I have to find you a new job.

 `Yes, Boss. All good things come to an end.'

 `Why do you say that?'

 `I'm still a good painter, Boss, and there'll always be some wall or
room or other to paint and decorate around here.'

 `That there will be without a doubt, Pete! That there will be! But I
thought that as you have done such a great job here, that you might like
to pick your next one.'

 `Pick my next job, Boss? Nice try but, Boss, I'm a slave and I do
what I am told.'

 `Pete, I asked you to look after the Aloe Palace for me. I don't
think I have once had to tell you to do what. You just did it and told
me. You asked me, if in doubt and that was rarely. You have a knack for
it. That's what Fiona and Jack also loved. Do you know that Jack hinted
that he wanted to buy you, but I made it clear that one of my most
valuable assets was not for sale.'

 `Boss, you're having me on! Pete Downings valuable? Just wait until I
tell Randy that. Now Randy is someone who is valuable. Dr. Fournier said
to me that he won't go into the surgery until he knows Randy is there
first with everything organised for the day,' he said, with a laugh.

 `Pete! Pete! You underestimate yourself. Is there anything at the Lime
Palace that you really want to do, or can I choose another job for you?
Where's all this challenging spunk that I saw that day at the opal
mine?'

 `Boss, you are joking. That day when you called me out of that cell I
was shaking. But no, Boss, I'm here to do whatever you want. So start
pointing out walls for painting.'

 `The difficulty, Pete, is that most of them aren't built yet. How
about Head of Household at the new Lemon Palace? They're just doing the
second floor and even with David Tuttle on the job morning, noon and
night, it's going to take another year I'd say to finish and furnish.'

 The quiet Australian looked at me, his narrow and finely featured face,
a study in surprise. His eyes were gleaming and his nostrils flared as
his lungs sucked in air.

 `I'd love that, Boss, I'd really love that,' he was beside me as we
were walking and before I knew it, his arms were about my waist and his
head on my chest.

 We walked on a bit and he was very quiet, just looking at the ground
and then he said, `Have you any ideas, Boss, how you want it
decorated?'

 I put my arm over his shoulder and said, `I think I can safely leave
that up to the Head of Household, don't you? You just get Faisal to get
you the catalogues you want from the stores in the capital city and you
tell me what you want by way of furnishing and décor. I think you're
going to need some help, so if you haven't anyone you want with you, I
have a couple of French slaves who need to be kept busy.'

 `French slaves?'

 `Yes, Jean-Pierre has been working really hard and I want to give him
something more to do and there is his buddy, Fernand, I want you to test
out for me.'

 `Thanks, Boss. I'll see to it. There's one thing I want to
mention,' and he took something out of his pants' pocket.

 The piece of jewellery glinted in the evening sunshine. I thought it
looked like a cross between a golden teardrop and an earring and Pete
dropped it into the palm of my hand.

 `What is it?'

 `It's a fob of gold, Boss. Mistress Fiona gave it to me before she
left. I said I'd have to give it to you, Boss.'

 Pete was looking down the gardens.

 `You were very special to her, Pete, you know that? She said you were
the only one, who could talk colour coordination with her,' I said with
a laugh.

 But Pete's head was turned away and he was nodding.

 `So, where would you wear this, Pete? I think bracelets on men a bit
feminine in our situation, don't you? How about on your necklace?'

 Pete undid his gold necklace and held it out to me. I slipped the loop
of the fob onto the chain and fixed it back on his neck. There was a
single tear running down his cheek.

 `She was special to you as well, Pete, I think, despite all your
worries about boxer shorts and the like.'

 Through his watery eyes, Pete Downings began to smile and held up the
necklace and fob resting on his chest.

 `Yes, Boss, that she was.'

 Fiona's thoughtful gift to Pete was proof that compensation is never
really what we assume it to be, or sufficient to pay--in the broadest
sense-- for what we have received. Pete valued his Mistress Fiona's
attention and company and challenges, far more than the material value of
the fob. The fob however reminded him of that friendship and interaction
and in what it signified, compensated him for her disappearance from this
life.

 `So, Pete, who do you have to redeploy here now that the Swedes are
coming to town?'

 He gave a genuine smile and said, `I'll have a list on your desk with
Ben Trant tomorrow. Sunar Hussein, at least, will now be freed up for
more Arabic classes and I have to get Flavio to train in some more cooks
for the Lemon Palace, now that Mistress Fiona and Master Jack have taken
theirs.'

 `Great.'

 `And the farm slaves, Boss, under Yuriy?'

 `They all stay here, in their own outbuildings. Only the Palace and
the immediate gardens go to Gustav Ahlson. The farms stay with me. Now
tell me how are you and Randy getting on?'

 `A house on fire, Boss, is nothing to Randy in bed. He is warm and
loving and I love having him round and being around him in the evenings.
And talk of the devil, as they say. Here he is.'

 Randy Tait was standing about fifty feet away at the edge of the
gardens, his beautiful golden skin showing off his nicely developed
musculature and tackle. I beckoned him over.

 `Sorry, Master, I didn't mean to interrupt.'

 `Pete and I were just finished, Randy. He says, you are the hottest
thing in bed.'

 Randy burst out laughing.

 `No, Master, he's got that the other way round. He definitely is.'

 I could see the warmth of buddy friendship between the two and again
the thought of compensation came into my mind. Lacking female company, as
they would have sought in another life, here they compensated with the
beauty of each other.

 `Off you go both of you. I'll walk myself back to the Lime Palace.'

 `Master, we'll walk you back,' Randy said and one on either side of
me, with an arm over the shoulders of two handsome studs, we walked up
the straight road between the Palaces squinting our eyes in the rays of
the dropping sun as it created patterns of burnished gold and red and
purple on the horizon.

 It was too early for dinner, which that evening was to be at eight. I
was expecting some seven of my neighbours, including Jalal al-Akhri and
with the medical staff and Gus Jennings, who ran a business for me in the
capital city, we would be an even dozen sitting down.

 I looked at the two slaves, my arms over their shoulders. `What about
a sauna and a swim for about an hour? Then I have guests for dinner.'

 Two arms went around my waist and we sauntered up to the Palace.

 At the sauna, I just stripped off and walked in. The sauna at the Lime
Palace can take all of thirty comfortably. There were six slaves using it
and on seeing me come in, they made to get up and leave.

 `Stay as you are. Do you really like it this warm?'

 There was laughter and one of the slaves admitted that he had thrown
too much water not a minute previously on the hot electrically heated
imitation coals. For that, he got a further good-natured punch on the arm
from his colleague.

 I took the towel I had brought in and spread it on the lower level of
pine banking and lay down on my belly. Randy was at my side immediately,
`Master, would you like an aromatic massage. I learned that in
techniques with Frank Kovacs.'

 I gave Randy a squinted look up from the towel, `Okay, Randy, let's
see your technique.'

 There were various terracotta containers sealed with large corks, to
one side of the sauna and Randy went and retrieved one. I closed my eyes
and soon felt dribbles of oil--lavender oil by its scent--on my back. I
felt my right foot being lifted and put on someone's thigh and fingers
started to massage my toes and the sole of my foot--two thumbs working
the oil in deeply. I guessed it was Pete.

 The beauty of a massage is the floating--where your body is there, but
not there; where you are in control of your muscles, but not in control
of them; where your skin is touched and pampered and with a thousand tiny
touches the relaxing body relaxes the mind.

 `Is it too hot for you, Randy?'

 `Not at all, Boss, very warm, but not hot. If you want me to do your
front say so.'

 `No, this is fine' I said and closed my eyes to his touch.

 Five minutes of bliss later, I just happened to look sideways and saw
Randy had quite a boner. Reaching out, I took its firmness in my hand.

 `Randy, you must be over ten inches?'

 `Yes, Boss, nearer eleven. It must be the heat, Boss.'

 From the unseen nether regions of my feet, I heard Pete laugh.

 `No way, Boss, it's from the massage. He always gets a hard-on when
he gives me a massage. The heat only makes his rising condition worse.'

 `Randy, telling a lie to the Boss? I can't believe it,' I said in
mock disbelief. `I'll have to punish you for that lie. Lie down on the
seat here in front of me.'

 Randy lay down on the hot banking and I indicated to him to keep coming
closer to me, a leg on either side of the bench. Soon his balls were just
under my nose and he was half-supporting himself off the hot wood, lying
back, his hands half-behind himself, holding up his body.

 I pushed his body back onto the hot wood.

 `Boss, it's hot.'

 `First part of the punishment,' and I heard Pete laugh again behind
me, not losing a second of the rolling massage and thumbing of my feet.

 I licked Randy's balls and down on either side of them in his inguinal
area.

 `Oh, Boss! oh, Boss!' he gasped, as his hard penis now firmed up even
more up along his body and he lay back on the bench, hot and all that it
was.

 I sucked each of his small, egg shaped balls and ran my tongue down the
back of them, smelling the light musk of his lower body. I followed a
pumping vein up his cock and licked the fraenulum and corona of his
circumcised cock-head.

 `Oh, Boss! Oh, Boss!'

 `Pete, this lover of yours has a very limited vocabulary.'

 `That's some lovers for you, Boss.'

 I took Randy's cock head in my mouth and let the first few inches of
his length enter, licking and sucking it all the time. Its precum was
neutral, neither salty, nor sweet and then Randy suddenly half-sat up and
said, `Boss, I'm cumming. I'm going to cum.'

 I was going to say that no he was not going to cum. I was going to
withdraw my mouth and leave his cock untouched for a moment, but his
almost foot long penis had a mind of its own and he shot three bursts
into the back of my mouth.

 When he had come, Randy was very sensitive around the tip of his penis
and I let it deflate itself in my mouth and lay itself down on his belly,
to a more respectable and normal length.

 `Pete, this guy is very quick on the draw. I think you are going to
have to send him back to sex techniques for further training.'

 `No, Boss, it's just the way you do it. You made the mistake of
licking his balls first. That's what puts Randy here on a knife-edge.
It's a wonder that he did not come when you did that.'

 I was now sitting up, Pete beside me, both of looking down at the spent
figure on the bench.

 `Boss, I did last much longer than I normally do when Pete licks my
balls, not that I let him do that very often. Honest, Boss, I really did
last a long time.'

 `Three sucks and swirl around a mouth, a long time?'

 `A long time for me, Boss. A really long time for me.'

 Pete was laughing now.

 `Now, Boss, twenty five quick lengths of the pool. Remember you have
guests at eight.'

 With two pacers, I sped up and down the pool.

 Rolf Hanzer, my gym Master, was looking at me when I got out.

 `Not bad, Master, not bad at all.'



 Flavio again had done the Lemon Palace proud. As the majority of the
guests were Dahran Arabs, there were a lot of smaller dishes of savoury
vegetables from our own farms on some type of French canapé bread and
Italian crostini, with each course, if they could be so described,
successively separated by a small sorbet of lemon, lime, citron pressé.
The main course was a series of lamb kebabs done in Algerian, Moroccan
and Egyptian cuisine with two types of basmati rice. The dessert was
simple crème caramel brulé, which simply melted in the mouth.

 Although, when Arabs are present, we normally do not serve wine, as
there were other guests present, who would take wine, Bob Conrad offered
a selection of fruit juices to counter-balance the wines of the others. I
did notice that three of my Dahran Arabs did take a half a glass of wine
each, as if not to refuse the host's offering, which I thought was a
nice courtesy to me as host.

 I also noticed that the twelve slaves serving the table with Bob, as
the maître d'hôtel, had all been perfectly groomed, their bodies
gleaming with oil that had been worked into the skins; their pubes had
been trimmed and their finger- and toe-nails had been manicured. Someone
on my staff had gone to a lot of trouble.

 I was sitting beside Jalal al-Akhri, the second of the al-Akhri sons.

 `Jalal, are my neighbours happy with the water they are getting from
me.'

 `Jonathan, they are very happy. They use what they need. There is no
maximum imposed, or minimum quantity required. The pumping has never
broken down once in all the time it has been available and flowing.'

 `I am delighted to hear that. I have a great Manager in charge of the
work of pumping and distribution.'

 `Not just a Manager for that job, Jonathan. You are very fortunate in
all your slaves.'

 `Not all, Jalal. You may have heard of some trouble I had and I had a
slave executed.'

 `Yes, indeed, Jonathan. It has added to your fierce reputation as a
Retrainer of slaves.'

 I looked at Jalal. He had said it in all seriousness.

 `On a lighter note, Jalal, after we were at Abdou's birthday party
last week and something occurred to me. I had heard that earlier on in
the year your brother Mustafa had celebrated his fiftieth birthday and
now last week Abdou?'

 `Jonathan, Jonathan, don't tell me after all this time in Dahra you
are still thinking like a Westerner. Abdou's mother was our father's
fourth wife. The first four brothers are sons of our father's first
wife. Abdou is our half-brother, but as much a brother as my other
brothers and even more at times in financial matters.'

 `Of course, Jalal. Your father had four wives, I believe.'

 `Yes, that was so. But only the first and fourth wives had sons. The
second and third wives had six daughters between them. I have a lot of
half-sisters. And by the way, Jonathan, Abdou was really pleased with
your textiles. Bolts of cloth, I think you call them. He has a tailor in
Zurich, whose name he will not give us and he has sent the bolts on for
two suits to be made.'

 I looked at Jalal again.

 `Jalal, cloth is cloth. Mohair is nice. But you gave Abdou a beautiful
Arabian filly, I believe. Surely, he will have appreciated that a lot
more.'

 `In a way, Jonathan, but how many times will he ride that filly, while
your suits will be worn every month, at least, at every important
meeting. Value has little to do with some things. It is the importance we
attach to them that matters. Things like friendship, for one.'

 At that moment, I caught sight of Aziz, my Head of Household looking
into the dining-room as if checking that all was moving smoothly. I
beckoned him in.

 `Aziz, thank you for everything. The meal is fine. The service is
fine. You know, Jalal, of course.'

 Jalal stood up and embraced Aziz.

 `Aziz, my friend and fellow student,' he said as he put his arms
around Aziz.

 `Do you know, Jonathan, that we sat at the same desk as children and
studied the same books? You were always more studious than I. I am so
glad that you are now a freeman of Dahra.'

 `They were happy times of childhood, Jalal,' Aziz replied, with a
smile.

 `You must come and have dinner with me and my family, Aziz.'

 `That would be my pleasure, Jalal. It really would be my pleasure.'

 `Aziz, I look forward to seeing you soon,' Jalal said.

 Nodding his happy approval at the prospect and with his driver, Yedo,
waiting for him outside, Aziz departed from the scene to look after his
own household.

 My guests had brought only small presents, thank heavens. A number had
brought various types of cactus, which their slaves out on their farms
had been told to look for. When Georgi showed them to me subsequently, I
actually had all of them already in my gardens. But as is said, it is the
thought that counts.

 When the other guests had departed, Gus Jennings, Cal Thorsen and Yves
Fournier had remained behind for a late-night snifter of cognac.

 `Trouble in paradise, eh, Jonathan?' Gus said.

 `The kidnapping and execution?'

 `Yes.'

 `The trainers are good, Gus, but not miracle workers. One or other
slave is bound to get through. The slaves under training and at the Lemon
Palace, who have come from Europe are now locked in at night.'

 `Physical locks and chains never solve anything, Jonathan. The loyalty
of those slaves you had serving tonight is what you have to look for.'

 `Any suggestions? Are you saying that you miss training slaves
yourself, Master Sergeant? You would not want to drop into the compounds
from time to time?'

 `Whatever you do, Jonathan, do not undermine Komil's authority, as
the overseer in charge. I have no difficulty in dropping in, where Komil
or the other trainers may have a doubt or a question mark about a slave.
None whatsoever. But what you want to avoid where possible is too many
escape attempts.'

 Yves Fournier was holding his balloon glass in the palm of his hand.

 `On a more positive note, Jonathan. One of my research projects. For
me, it is science for its own reward.'

 `Yes, Yves?'

 `I mentioned to you before that I keep track of semen samples taken
from the slaves. Well, an interesting statistic keeps reoccurring. Slaves
who are infertile, no sperm motility at all, after a number of months,
ten at the least, fifteen at the most, are becoming fertile again.'

 `How many are we talking about?'

 `Thirty one slaves so far have tested infertile, out of fewer than
seven hundred and fifty counting the Swedes, and Jack and Fiona's Scots.
Not all the tests are in. All of the Swedes and Scots were okay. But
twenty one of the other nationalities were formerly infertile. Now
fourteen of them are fully and normally fertile.'

 `What do you attribute this to,' Gus asked, with half a smile on his
face, `the heat of Dahra?'

 `It could be that they have stopped eating or drinking a common
substance; it could be that they have started to eat or drink a common
substance; it could be the simpler diet, the simpler lifestyle; it could
be something like you say, the heat of Dahra or the fact that their
testicles are now not enclosed in fabric anymore and are al fresco all
the time; it could also be the far more regular sex they are all having
coupled, with any number of the former things.'

 Cal Thorson, who had been listening to his colleague's outpour with an
amused smile, now looked at him through half-closed lids.

 `Yes, yes. Research is what keeps us from going rusty in our daily
routine. But give our patients a break, please. You should not be making
all this fuss. What is fertility, if it is just a man? Beyond indicating
that they are healthy, what difference does it make? The outcome is
always: zero kids. They are fertile, yes. In theory.'

 He leaned back and sipped his drink.

 Yves Fournier looked put out at having his pet project made an object
of disdain.

 `I do agree that sperm motility is not everything. I would also say
that what our profession covers is not everything. May I just suggest,
Cal, that one can be a father, yes -- in theory?'

 A smile on Cal Thorson's lips. `I am not sure, Yves. What do you say
yourself?'

 Yves Fournier turned as white as a sheet. This had gone too far. Within
less than a minute, our conversation had slid into very deep waters
indeed.

 `Please, gentlemen,' I intervened. `Let us stick to the professional
side of it.'

 The look I gave Cal Thorson sobered him, because he turned towards his
colleague immediately.

 `I apologise.'

 `Ce n'est rien, Cal.'

 `Tell us some more about your research, Yves.'

 Gus Jennings, who was well aware that Cal's children -- if indeed one
could call them that -- hardly knew him, as he only visited them once a
year, but was not privy to Yves Fournier's family situation, took the
cue.

 `Here's to Dahra and the Dahran lifestyle,' Gus said raising his
balloon glass. `You should start a fertility clinic here, Jonathan. Make
yourself another fortune. Guaranteed fertility, or your money back.'

 I laughed with Yves, at Gus's irreverence to those unfortunate enough
to be infertile.

 `I thought it might be the water for a time,' Yves said, `but I have
had it tested a number of times, or rather Stan has and it is plain water
with minimal chemical compounds in it.'

 `Have you told each of the slaves their good news?'

 `Some, but not all. I would only tell them when they have their six
month medical.'

 `Six month medical' I said quite astonished.

 `Yes, indeed, Jonathan, Randy has me well organised. Two medicals a
year for each slave. Five slaves a day like clockwork.'

 `Yves, I think you need an assistant Doctor. Think about it and let me
know. You should not be doing checkups.'

 `Wrong, Jonathan! Yes, I should. I love uncomplicated medicine. I love
being in touch with my everyday patients. I love simple surgery. But yes,
I could do with an assistant Doctor. You know I use Nacho Cuesta for the
anaesthetics when I have to put someone under.'

 `Yves, put out a feeler for an assistant.'

 `You're the Boss, Jonathan. It will give me more time for my
research. You know Cal Thorson has had four papers already published on
his dental treatments and techniques. I could not follow half his
procedures, but he is becoming famous,' Yves very generously declared in
the light of the former comment.

 `Please, don't exaggerate,' was Cal's protest.

 `I know, I know. It keeps us from getting rusty.'

 Gus started to get up.

 `Jonathan, it has been a long day for me. I have been up since four
this morning. Goodnight, Cal. Goodnight, Yves.'

 Yves too swallowed the last of his brandy and also got up to leave.

 Bob Conrad, having heard a noise, had come in with another bottle of
cognac on the ready.

 `Still up, Bob?'

 `Yes, Boss, until you are tucked into bed.'

 `Who is in the kitchens?'

 `Everybody of the evening, Boss.'

 I had thought that might be the case.

 `Okay, let's go and see them.'

 The twelve slaves who had served table were all standing to one side of
the kitchen and bowed when I came in. We don't allow obeisance in the
kitchen areas for obvious reasons. I went over to Flavio and put my arms
around him. It was important for the slaves to see how much I appreciated
his work and loved him as my chef.

 `Superb as usual, Flavio, really superb. Those kebabs in three sauces
were delicious. And who did the sorbets?' I asked, thinking that it
would be Marko, but in fact, two of the slaves to the side came across
very shyly.

 `Marko and I are training them in, Boss.'

 The two were Chechens, who as a group normally have a bad reputation
for avoiding work, at least in my Palaces, but these two were obviously
an exception if Flavio had them in his kitchens.

 `Three sorbets, eh? Well done, each of you.'

 The two sort of half-glanced at me and at each other.

 `What are your names?'

 `Efim, Master.'

 `Viktor, Master.'

 I rubbed their heads and ran my hand down their lean bodies. Both were
less just than six feet tall and quite bronzed from outdoor work. I
weighed their tackle in my hand and felt Viktor's penis firm up very
quickly, at my touch.

 `I look forward to many more sorbets.'

 Again, there were gentle smiles flashed at me and over at Flavio. Marko
had now appeared and I went over to him.

 `So, Marko, you are giving away your secret recipes to these two?' I
said nodding over to Efim and Viktor.

 `Yes, Master,' he replied, with a blush as I put my arms around him
and gave him a long hug.

 `Look after Flavio for me, Marko, and he will look after you for me.'

 Marko beamed at being the centre of attention.

 `What are you planning for tonight, Bob?'

 `Nothing, Boss, just hanging around,' Bob replied with a grin.

 `Well, go and get your Ivan and come up both of you to my rooms. You
can warm my bones tonight.'

 Bob's glorious buns sped out the door in search of his buddy.

 It had been a good night, a better evening and had the promise of being
an exciting night, if Bob's curves were anything to bet on.


End of Chapter 14

To be continued . . .