Date: Fri, 16 Jan 2004 20:21:46 +0000 From: Gerry Taylor Subject: The Dahran Way - Chapter 1 - Gay - Authoritarian This is the first chapter ex twenty two of a novel about slavery and gay sex. Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training, 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 this material is unlawful for you to read 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 Preface In the first trilogy of this series, The Changed Life, The Reluctant Retrainer and The Market Offer, I set out the background how, by a quirk of fate, I had become the owner of some slaves, a retrainer of slaves and finally, a processor of unwanted jailed prisoners, where governments preferred to see embarrassments to political and legal systems live out the remainder of their lives outside the system as slaves -- essentially, out of sight and out of mind. In this second trilogy, The Special Memories, The Dahran Way and The Dahran Rebuttals, I have recalled those events extracted from my diaries which made a considerable impression on me particularly during my first years as a slave owner. In this present volume, I narrate events at the end of my third, and at the first part of my fourth year in Dahra. It tells about how certain things can be done, as I say, the Dahran way. My name is Sir Jonathan Martin and the training procedures which I describe in part of this diary were developed and tested successfully on the slaves at the Lemon Palace, the third of my homes in the Dahran desert. Practice makes perfect, and so it has proved to be in subduing, training and developing slaves, and ultimately, giving a new and useful life to slaves for my personal pleasure and service. Dahra, December 200x Chapter 1 The importance of example Dieter Schaffer `Across what for all the world looked like a low trestled vaulting horse, there was the very large white figure of a slave, his legs splayed wide and fastened to two of rear legs of the vaulting horse, his arms tightly manacled to the forward legs. The slave's face was towards the curtains and I could see some form of brank in his mouth forcing it wide open and something else by way of gag in the mouth itself. The slave was very large with fair colouring, some tan, as if an outdoor worker, but with a tan line and white legs belying any form of indolent and nude times on a beach. The instant impression was of a man at least six foot six, but with shoulders over three feet wide and muscular arms which would have put a bodybuilder to shame.' - Extract from The Special Memories - Dieter Schaffer, a young German slave in his mid-twenties awaiting auction, had been most cruelly raped before my very eyes and I had not been in a position to do anything about it. I had been at the al-Mera slave auction-rooms merely to purchase a couple of gardeners, and had ended up with two former Kazakh army privates, two Slovak twins, a spindly Georgian from the Caucasus region and this farm labourer -- a giant of a man, six foot six, if an inch -- but whom I was assured by the dealer was normally quite gentle. On being brought back to the Lime Palace where I live on the western road about an hour's drive from the capital city and just under two hours from the deep sea port of al-Mera itself, Dieter Schaffer had to be brought to our resident doctor and surgeon, Yves Fournier. The net result was anal surgery to repair the considerable damage to the new slave's rectum and anal passage. It required him to be a week in the infirmary before the final stitches, which had not dissolved, could be removed. The other slaves, who had been bought by me on the same day as he, had now been processed. They had all been introduced to the Palace's first five training techniques at our retraining centre though I was informed that Georgi Gridov, the small spindly Georgian, made such a fuss on the sight of the retraining room's paraphernalia -- running round the training room before Jess Tollman, the assistant retrainer could catch him again, insisting that he was absolutely fully trained and did not need to be retrained at all and would obey every and all commands -- that an amused Greg Logan, my retrainer, came to me and I relented in Georgi's case. He was after all a well-trained slave as I myself had verified at the auction-rooms. The two Slovak twins and the two Kazakh privates caved in immediately as soon as the first procedures were applied. I have never been able to actually put my finger on it whether the bastinado itself which was perhaps the worst of the first day's procedures or the information that that the training could go on for over eighty seven days increasing all the time was the catalyst for early submission. After seven days, Dr. Yves Fournier gave Dieter Schaffer a clean bill of health, his blood and semen tests having come back clear, as indeed those of the others. I went to see him just before Yves discharged him from our small hospital ward. He looked at me with apprehension in his pale eyes, the white bed sheet pulled up to his perfectly formed nipples. `He is very nervous of anyone coming near him,' Yves commented. I looked at my slave and could well understand his nervousness. `Dieter,' I said and beckoned him to sit up in the bed. I reached out slowly and ran my fingers through his short blond hair, not taking my eyes off his for a second. He did not pull back from my touch, and with my hand at the back of his neck, I pulled him close to me and ran my hands over his warm shoulders and back. I believe that simple touch is a great healer. `Dieter, you are now safe. You are now okay.' He may not have understood the words, but he would have understood the gesture, and gestures in slavedom go a long, long way. `Now, I must find something for you to do,' I said half to myself and so I went to find my stables manager. Dumi Bod, my Moldavian stables overseer -- an old Dahran title for farm manager -- confirmed that Dieter had yet to be assigned a duty, and I said I wanted him on the cacti gardens immediately that he did not have to be sent to Greg Logan for retraining. The four acres of cacti and succulents are my hobby and for over two years I have collected the most comprehensive array of plants from all over the sheikdom, courtesy of the word of mouth of my neighbours, who do regard me as a little eccentric. We were standing on the veranda of the Lime Palace, and I asked for Dieter to be called and also Georgi Gridov who was already assigned to the gardens. When the two arrived Georgi went and made a full obeisance before me with his forehead touching the ground. Dieter not having yet been properly trained just stood there, whereupon Georgi looked up, sideways, at the still standing giant of a slave, snapped his fingers pointing to the ground beside him and indicated to Dieter to get on his knees. Amazingly, Dieter did. Georgi made another obeisance in case Dieter had missed the first one, and waited until his forehead too had touched the paved ground of the courtyard, and then Georgi shuffled forwards on his knees and put my right foot on the back of his neck -- in true submission to a Master, and shuffled back to a level with Dieter. He indicated to Dieter to move forward and do the same, which the big German slave did. I could only stand and look on in amazement at Dumi Bod who was looking at me in equal surprise as my foot was put on the back of the giant's neck and then put back on the ground as the young German giant retreated on his knees and looked sideways at his Georgian counterpart, who seem to nod `okay' to him. I was not really too sure of how much English Dieter Schaffer had so I had had my gym instructor, Rolf Hanzer, to hand -- Rolf being Swiss and a speaker of German. `Up. Display'. The two slaves got to their feet, Georgi more quickly than the other. I went to him first and looked him over. Even though it was morning and he would have shaved, he already had a five o'clock shadow. I wondered how many applications of the depilatory cream would have to be used to get rid of that shadow. Georgi's pits were deep and a lighter brown than the rest of his body. The dark bushy hairs, each individual hair separate in its fineness, soft to the touch, slightly musky to smell even after their morning shower, coming from the deeply mould pit of the skin, were lustrous and shiny, much as the hair on his head -- not a trace of any other colour. With the back of my finger I touched his axillar hair and Georgi's skin gave a trembling galvanic response, but he did not move or jump. I let my both my hands slide down his body, press in his waist, so that he could get accustomed to the heat and warmth of my hands, and feel them as non-threatening. I ran finger down his belly and into his trimmed pubic hair, giving it a slight scratch and tickle in passing, down to cup his smallish balls. His penis was at half-mast from the touch of my hand on his balls and, while small, was well-cut. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Dieter Schaffer was following my every action. When it was his turn to be inspected, I touched his large log-like biceps -- his hands being behind his neck like Georgi's. When I touched his pits, he jumped slightly as if half-expecting to be tickled and I could see that not only was he extremely nervous, but he was quite ticklish. I beckoned to him to lower his head closer to mine -- he being a good six inches taller, if not more, than I -- and when his ear was at a level with my mouth, I blew into it for all of thirty seconds. He looked surprised and realised that I was not about to hurt him. I lifted his chin so that his head was now erect again, ran my finger down his nose -- much as one would do with a skittish horse -- and slipped it quite trustingly into his mouth. I left it there until I felt his tongue touching it and then I pulled it out with a smile. It was a way of saying `I trust you. Now you can trust me.' After that, he did not move while I inspected his body and when I lifted his balls with my hand, my eyes were on his which did not even blink. `Dieter, sehr gut!' I said. He looked down into to my eyes, a little surprised at my schoolboy German, nodded and said, `Ja, mein Herr. Danke!' We had established something of a rapport. Having put my finger in Dieter's mouth reminded me. I went back to Georgi and opened his mouth. A perfect set of capped teeth now looked out at me. I smiled at him and he dazzled me back with an ear to ear smile of pleasure. When the two stood side by side Georgi Gridov only came up to nipple level of Dieter Schaffer, the gentle German giant. In the training of new slaves, the example of existing well-trained slaves cannot be over emphasised or under-estimated. It is not just that the picture of example is worth the lecture of a thousand words and an hour's preaching in the desert air. The slave who does not know what's what is comforted by the thought that someone else is already doing what he is being ordered to do, and he merely has to copy. There is also a psychological barrier easily overcome that if someone else is doing the action with some degree of willingness, then it cannot be all that harmful or too hurtful. This struck me very forcibly in the case of Dieter Schaffer. Had he to be forced to do something, then it would have been well nigh impossible for less than four slaves to force him to do it, such was his size and untested strength. However, with the obedient example of a puny spindly slave such as Georgi Gridov -- albeit another new to the Palace and for all the world an untested slave -- Dieter was quite content to follow the leader. This was clearly the case when I told Georgi in Arabic to step forward, bend and spread. This he did immediately, and even separated the cheeks of his backside unasked. I was not really interested in Georgi at all as I had seen his more hidden anal parts at the auction rooms, but I was watching Dieter who was now standing almost directly behind Georgi and who had a perfect view of Georgi's tightness which in previous days had been perfectly depilated with the French cream, as indeed his entire body other than his head, his now trimmed pubes and armpit hair. Perhaps in Georgi's case it was a mistake to take the hair off his legs, which now looked even thinner than before. But what was done was done, and there's no use crying over spilt milk as we say. Anyway, it is the policy of my Palaces that all body hair on slaves is removed permanently save for the trimmed pubic hair, the untrimmed hair in the slave's armpits, and a very short crew-cut of hair on the head to suit the climate. I let my hand wander up the inside of Georgi's thighs, touched the back of his balls and gently ran my fingers up the crack of his ass. I gave his backside a smack and said `Up and step back'. He popped up straight and stepped back. Looking at Dieter, I said in Arabic, a language which he did not understand according to his file, `Forward, spread and bend,' and pointed to the same spot which Georgi had just vacated. Without a second's hesitation he did just that, and he too spread very gently the cheeks of his backside with his two hands. `Sehr gut, Dieter,' I murmured to him and touched him exactly as I had done to Georgi, but I also wanted to see what the surgical remedy had been to his damaged anus. The anus was still very enflamed, even after a week, and purple red bruising were all around the sphincter muscle which formed a perfect volcano-like ring which showed the force of his rape by Rashid al-Akhri. As I said another `Gut, Dieter,' and gave him a smack on his left forearm to signify that the inspection was all over for him, I again said in Arabic `Up and back,' indicating with my hand the position that he had previously vacated. He straightened and stepped back his two paces. Rolf was beside me and I was able to have my words put into German. `Dieter, do you understand English? Not speak it. Understand it?' He shook his head. `Mein Herr, ich war nie gut in der Schule. Tut mir leid.' He was sorry. He had not been too bright in school. Ah, this would be that bit slower than I had anticipated! Rolf continued to translate. `To-day, you will see the optician who will check your eyes. Tomorrow, you will see the dentist -- Rolf, open you mouth for Dieter' -- and Rolf obliged -- `and he will see what needs to be done with your teeth.' `For thirty days, you will be shown the ways of our Palace by your two minders, and at the end of that time you will be able to choose, if you want, your own buddy. If you do not choose one, one will be given to you.' `Rolf, see that Dieter gets three biscuits morning and evening, not just two. Just look at the size of him! Are you yourself free for an hour to show him and Georgi around the grounds of both Palaces?' Rolf said he would make the time. `One last thing, Dieter, what happened to you at the auction-rooms will never happen again to you here. Our punishments are very rare and they are usually very fair.' Dieter Schaffer was looking down at me. He had not said a word all morning other than giving thanks for my praise and apologizing for not having learned English. Now he merely said `Danke, mein Herr.' `Do you have any questions?' I asked him and I repeated the question in Arabic for Georgi Gridov. Neither of them had, and then Dieter did an extraordinary thing to my mind, he bent forward and taking my hand, he kissed the back of it very gently. I smiled up at him when he had straightened up. It was as bad as looking up at Yedo and Komil, the other two giant slaves at the Lime Palace, such was his height. `I think Dieter we are going to get along very well here and you will enjoy the work on my farms. For the moment, you will be working in my own cacti gardens, and you will be told each day what to do.' Seeing that I had finished talking to Dieter, not to be outdone, in case he had been left out of any equation, Georgi, now in reverse imitation, bent forward and kissed my hand as well. `What was that for Georgi,' I asked in Arabic. `For buying me, Master, for my new teeth, for giving me two new friends who are showing me everything, and for giving me food every morning and every evening and ....' `And what?' `I want to ask a question, Master.' I realised what a skilful slave Georgi was in speaking with a Master. He had made me, the Master, introduce an opening for a question he wanted to ask, as slaves do not normally ask questions. `Why did you buy me, Master? I saw how many other farm workers were there in the auction-rooms who could have worked harder and better than me.' `Fate, Georgi Gridov. I believe in fate. Do you?' `Yes, Master.' `Well, I don't fully know why I bought you. One day I will find out. I do know why I bought Dieter who is going to be working with you in the gardens. Will you be able to get him to work with you?' `As easy as walking in camel shit, Master. As easy as walking in camel shit,' he said with a big smile. And he smiled up at Dieter, who not knowing why he was being smiled at, smiled back aping the gesture. I thought I could learn a lot from Georgi Gridov, and I realised again the importance of example. There is little accounting for friendship and less accounting for love. It can occur between the most similar types of couple, but in my experience, it occurs where least you expect it. I have never figured out why Inaki Ergoitia, the former Basque journalist, and the young former petrol pump attendant, Donnie Timmins, who was Gary and Justie's friend, hit it off so well from the word go. In my amateur psychological way, I put it down to the fact that both were looking for a piece of driftwood onto which to hang and that they found each other in the oceans of slavedom. Inaki had fine features, a narrowish face which was well improved when Nacho Cuesta, our ophthalmologist and eye-surgeon, had straightened the most severe of eye-squints thus restoring some eighty per cent of the sight in that eye. Perhaps, it was because of that physical handicap that Inaki had never had a true physical relationship. He had certainly been shocked, he told me, when he was first sucked off in the morning showers as part and parcel of his early morning ablutions. Donnie, on the other hand, was underweight, or rather, had been underweight, with the thinnest and most spindly legs, on a par with Georgi's, that could be imagined for a nineteen-year old when he first came into slavedom. If anything good about him, it was his infectious grin, a pair of beautiful nipples or rather the nubs of nipples which almost always seemed to be standing up proud no matter what the temperature of the day, and a hero-worship of Inaki which had to be seen to be believed. The two were in charge of production of the drums of Aloe milk-sap and the Aloe laxative at the Aloe Palace. Now twenty one, Donnie had filled out; his skin a golden tan all over; his light brown pubes, particularly, and armpit hair becoming slightly lightened and golden in the hot Dahran sun. Ben Trant, my secretary, asked me was he allowed to give a book on cacti and succulents to Inaki from the collection I have in my private library. Cacti are as I have said my abiding hobby and passion, and I now had four slaves Dieter, Georgi, Igor and Basili, the two Byelorussians at that time working on my plots which are my gardening pride and joy. `Why to Inaki?' I asked somewhat bemused. `Some project or other he and Donnie are working on?' `He also asked me, Master, if there is a camera around here?' `Ben, this is weird. Tell Inaki to come see me when he is free and we'll get to the bottom of this.' Later that day there was a knock on the study door and Inaki and Donnie were there. `Books on cacti? Camera? What else, Inaki, or have I been missing something?' `Master, you know I write, I mean, I used write. Donnie and I were looking at your cacti gardens the other day and Donnie started to make all these strange gestures with his fingers at the plants. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was taking photos of the plants. That was his hobby in England.' I swung round to look at Donnie. It is strange how you see people almost daily, and yet don't see them. Looking now at Donnie, I saw a well built young man of twenty one, with a perfect skin on an almost hairless body, his lips as perfectly formed as I first remembered them, setting of strong high cheeks and his chin finely chiselled. `What happened to the spindly legs, Donnie?' `The swimming, Master, I swim over an hour each day and I do special arm and leg exercises with Roge Harte in the gym for another hour.' `Come over here, let me take a proper look at you.' Moving over to me, I lightly ran my hand over his belly which quivered slightly at my touch. `Do you want me at `display', Master?' `Display then, Donnie?' With his arms behind his head, his chest stuck proudly out like a merganser duck; his belly in like a boxer in the ring; his body was beautiful to behold. I told him so. `Well done, Donnie, at rest now. It's a wonder that Inaki wants to get up in the morning with a guy like you beside him.' Donnie blushed a little and looked over in pleasure at Inaki. I held his cock and slipped back the foreskin to reveal a perfect pink head with its scarf of prepuce surrounding the mushroom corona of the gland. `So, you take photographs?' `Yes, Master, I used to. I had a small camera and learned how to develop my own stuff. Nothing really special, but I liked it, particularly doing black and white and chiaroscuro.' He had not moved a whit under my touching of his penis head. I was looking at him and thought how little we really know at times of those who surround us. Donnie was still standing quietly as a well trained slave should as I ran my fingers under his scrotum and back, and Gus Jenning's statement that it took two years to fully train a slave popped into my mind. Gus, an American, had been a stables manager of a large Palace, and was now my general manager on the Aloe milk-sap and laxative sales and distribution out of offices in the capital city. `And now you want to be Palace photographer, eh?' `Not exactly, Master, Inaki said he would write a piece about one of the cacti plants and say what it was and I would take a shot of it. Just as a hobby sort of, just for fun.' Donnie looked over at Inaki as if he had said too much. `I was thinking, Boss, that maybe a number of prints with a text on each, if we can find out what type of cactus each one is.' `What do you mean, if you can find out what type of cactus each plant is? I know that already. You don't need to tell me what I already know.' `No, Master,' Inaki said looking at an idea already rapidly turning sour. `Bad idea.' Looking at Donnie, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, I said, `Well, maybe, we can give the Palace photographer a try for a month or so. Eh, Donnie?' `Yes, Boss! Yes, Boss! I mean, yes, Master.' `The only trouble is that we don't have a camera here that I know of. Write down with Ben what you would suggest as a camera, and I see what Faisal can pick up in the capital city.' `Yes, Master. Thank you, Master,' Donnie said cheerfully. `And Inaki, where are you going to do your writing? I don't want you doing stuff on the production computer.' `Can I ask Jens, Master? He mentioned at some stage when putting in the production system that he had a spare computer.' Jens Johanssen is my Danish slave who looks after our network computer setup here at the Palaces. The following day when I had a spare hour at the Bank, I had Faisal run me across to a camera shop which one of the Foreign Exchange staff recommended, and bought Donnie a top of the range reflex camera with tripod, a small compact digital one together with all the bits and pieces of equipment needed to fit out a developing laboratory -- or so the sales assistant faithfully promised. The whole lot cost over twenty thousand euro but an idea was forming in the back of my head for a more ambitious project than that of a couple of photographs and a couple of texts. I had Stan refit one of the spare overseer offices for Inaki's work, getting the spare computer from Jens and setting up the basics of a lab in the slave quarters beside the retraining room for Donnie, who most likely would know more about the finer detail of lab layout himself. When I called Donnie to the study and told him that the shop hadn't got the camera he wanted, he said, `That's okay, Master. Thank you for trying.' `But they had these two which they said might be better.' When he saw the reflex camera, Donnie almost hurled himself across the study to give me a hug, `Oh, Boss, oh Boss, it is beautiful! It is so beautiful! I will get you the most beautiful pictures you have ever seen.' At this point, he still hugging my chest, I let my hands run down the perfect golden skin of his back. His buttocks were soft and smooth like peaches in full ripeness. `Donnie, I think you and I are going to get to know each other a bit better. You've never been in my bed except for that once, have you?' `No, Master,' he said seriously all of a sudden. `I...' `You what?' `I thought, Master, you didn't like guys with very thin legs after your had exercised your right as Master, or so they said.' `They? Who are they?' `The other slaves, Master.' A thought struck me between the eyes. `Is that why you have been swimming and taking leg exercises?' `Yes, Master, I was hoping that maybe one day, you know...I might be able to really please you.' `Why, Donnie?' `For making me happy. For putting me with Inaki. For giving me a great job.' I was looking at him. `Are you really happy here, Donnie?' `Yes, Master. I am really and truly happy. Back in Luton I had a dead end job, never enough money to do or buy what I wanted. Now, I have everything I need and someone to love. And a wardrobe to die for,' and he did a naked twirl. I shook my head at his twirl and said `I think that day will be sooner rather than later, Donnie. Will Inaki not mind losing you for a night?' `Oh, no, Master, he will be jealous.' `Jealous, not envious?' `He thinks, Master, that you don't like him that way because of the way he looked?' `Looked?' `His eye, Master. He thinks you still remember the way he looked and would not like the look of him in your bed. You only choose the best looking slaves.' `Donnie, you have the strangest of ideas. And by the way, I have had Stan prepare a lab for you in the slave quarters.' `A lab, Master?' `Yes, it's right beside the retraining room, so if this photography thing doesn't work out you won't have far to walk to be retrained.' `Master, it will work and if it does not, I'll run into the retraining centre myself,' Donnie said with a happy laugh. `So when are you going to work on this project with all that you and Inaki have to do at the production plant?' `Master, we are going to do it after eleven o'clock each day when the sun is hot and the cactus flowers are at their most open.' `You have it all thought out?' `Not everything, Master. But it has been fun thinking how it can all be done.' At the end of their thirty days of introductory life at the Palace and initial training, it is customary that each of the new slaves is first of all assigned a new buddy, which is quite easy, and secondly, each receives his gold necklace. Normally both things are done at the same time. In Dieter's and Georgi's case it was not any different. After dinner one evening, I called them both out and before the full assembly of slaves, I put their necklaces over their heads. I had handed over to Rolf again because of Dieter's severe lack of both English and Arabic. `Have either of you found a buddy you want? You know that you can try a buddy for a month and if you do not have one, I will assign one to each of you.' Dieter was beginning to get an erection. I took it in my hand, slipped back the foreskin off the head of his cock, and rubbed the thick almost oily pre-cum which was not leaking from the urethra slit. `Does this, Dieter, mean that you are thinking of some one whom you want?' `Ja, mein Herr.' `And who would that be, Dieter?' He was blushing furiously, not at my rubbing of his now hard cock head in all of his hardness and length. `Georgi, mein Herr.' `And why Georgi, Dieter?' `Because he sucks me off every night, Master, before we go to sleep and he licks me back there, where the doctor operated.' `Did you follow that, Georgi?' `No, Master, I don't understand German.' `Have you any choice of a buddy?' `I would like Dieter, Master, if he wants me.' `Why, Georgi?' `Because he is big, Master, in every way. Not just in height and in his sex which you can see, Master, is very long. He is gentle and kind. He does the work of two slaves and he offers me half of one of his biscuits every evening. He gets three and I get two. And afterwards, he lets me have sex with him every night on our pallet. He never once has tried to force himself on me. I trust him more than any other slave, Master, more than I have trusted anyone in this country in all my time here.' `Georgi, I think you are a lucky slave. Dieter wants you as his buddy.' And that was that, Georgi put his hand up towards Dieter's neck and Dieter just lifted him up off the ground and hugged him until I thought that Georgi would be hurt, and then with Georgi perched on his hip, he walked across the courtyard for all to see to the slow handclap of some of the slaves, and the smiles of others. Georgi just had his arms around Dieter's neck and his head on Dieter's shoulder. That is my one abiding memory of both of them. In the following years, they were inseparable in their duties, and where you found one, in symbiosis almost, you would find the other. To be continued...