Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2004 18:58:15 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Dahran Way - Chapter 4 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the fourth 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.

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The Dahran Way

Chapter 4  The importance of companionship
  Jack Tuttle

Jack and Fiona's wedding was a Scottish affair. The Tuttle family have a
small castle and the only thing that did not come alive were the suits of
armour. Both families had an extraordinary number of uncles, aunts and
cousins of first and second degrees of consanguinity and marriage and I
soon gave up trying to understand the relationships.

The happy couple were married on their birthdays, the 1st of February:
Jack's twenty first and Fiona's twentieth. All sorts of divining
prognostications were read into the date: the first day of spring, the
double birthday -- Scottish jokes about saving on double wedding and
birthday presents -- and the young love of two lovers, who actually did
look very young and being very much in love.

Enough single Malt whisky was drunk to have supplied a thirsty regiment
for a year. It seemed to be an implied threat and insult to the family
industry to even think of asking for anything else other than whisky
after the wedding breakfast and while I can hold my liquor, I was a mere
novice when attempting to pace the more veteran Scottish drinkers.

Fiona's parents gave the couple a mews house in Belgravia to the back of
Victoria, obviously hoping for frequent returns from the `Gulf' as
Dahra was being termed.

I gave Fiona her wedding present in the form of a cheque and opened an
account for her in her own name at Deckams in Dahra.

I gave Jack a voucher `Valid for one residence to be built in Dahra.'

From both of them, I got a hearty hug and I told them that they could
live at the Aloe Palace until whenever their new residence was built.

Because of the numbers of guests in the castle, most of us found
ourselves being doubled in the rooms. Why was I not surprised when David
Tuttle, Jack's cousin was bunked in with me, in what turned out to be a
four-poster with canopy -- the comment being made -- `David said you
were sure not to mind, Jonathan, in having to share.'

I did not mind, at all.

The wedding was a full-day affair and by ten that night, not only was I
quite tired, it now being just two in the morning in Dahra, but I had
downed my fair share of morning and midday champagne with the breakfast
and an amount of whisky during the rest of the day which surprised even
myself.

I thought I had made a private and quiet exit just after ten up to my
room, canopy bed and all, when I saw David Tuttle fall into step beside
me.

`I think I'll declare it a night as well, sir.'

`Good idea, David. I am exhausted. I am going to run a bath and then
sleep the sleep of the just.'

On arriving at our room, I went in to run the bath and relieved myself of
the liquid effect of the day's drinking.

When I came out, I stopped in my tracks at the sight in front of me.
David Tuttle was standing in the middle of the room, bollocks naked, his
hands behind his back, his legs spread about two feet apart.

`Awaiting your instructions, sir,' was all he said.

I pointed to the bathroom and said `shit, check the water in the bath
and be ready to rub my back.'

`Yes, sir.'

I watched the buttocks of a very firm body scuttle into the bathroom to
comply with my orders.

When I finally entered the steamy bathroom, David was standing beside the
bath, now two third's full, his hand wet from feeling the water. I
pointed to the taps on the bath and he turned them off. I stepped into
it. The water was perfect. I motioned David into the bath in front of me,
and had him sit down his back to me and with a cloth, I started to soap
and wash his shoulders and back.

`So whose idea is this double bunking, David?'

`Mine, sir, I hope you don't object. I thought you might want me to
wash your back, sir.'

`Yes and no and maybe after I do yours. Not every room has such a
perfect back as yours to wash.'

He half-turned and gave me a smile.

`And how long was this wish of yours on your mind?

`Wish, sir?'

`To get into bed with me?'

`From that time by the chimney in London, sir, when you told my dad and
my uncles that Jack was now worth forty something million sterling. I got
a hard on for you, sir, there and then.'

`And who told you about that little stance of yours in the bedroom?'

`Jack, sir. He said that he had seen someone stand like that for you
before, sir.'

`Did he say who or where?'

`No, sir'.

`Very discreet our Jack, would you not say, David?'

`Yes, sir, very discreet.'

`Now turn around and kneel up while I wash your front.'

David's legs were on either side of mine in the bath, so as I washed his
front, down his belly, his shapely balls, and with a cloth in my left
hand washing his leg left leg and bum and the finger of my right, I found
and entered the puckered tightness between his legs.

When a second finger started to go in, he swung a leg over the side of
the bath to accommodate my access which then allowed for two and a half
fingers, but not quite three. I let the water soften up his tight back
passage for what was to come.

`First time, back there, David?'

`Yes, sir, nothing other than my own finger before.'

`Are you sure of this?'

`Yes, sir. Absolutely. Any way you want me, sir.'

The taking of David Tuttle was a pleasure for me and according to
himself, a pleasure for him. He even knelt up in the bath, his pucker
having been well and truly softened by the warm bath water and let me rim
him for over twenty minutes after the first time I took him.

We had to let the hot water run a couple of times to keep the bath water
warm. It was one o'clock before I had finished taking him for the third
time, surprising even myself after the travelling up from London and the
length of the day that was in it.

With greater recuperative powers than mine, the young man shot his load
four times from simply being penetrated on the first occasion, from being
rimmed on the second occasion, having his prostate fingered on the third
and having both his nipples subject to a degree of biting which I myself
would have never endured, but which he asked for with ever increasing
intensity, until his last release left him exhausted.

When it was all over for both of us, though I really would have liked to
have a shower to cool down again, David Tuttle lay there on my chest --
we had made it back into the bed at some stage -- and said, `thank you,
sir' at least four times.

I finally said to him, `David, tomorrow, or rather today, is another
day. Get to sleep.'

He propped himself up on an elbow and said, `Sir, I know this is not a
fair thing to ask, but I want to ask you a favour.'

`What?'

I was immediately suspicious. Had it been anywhere else, it would in my
mind have been the prelude to a shakedown.

`Sir, I shall be finished uni in June. I'll be a qualified engineer.
Will you help me get a job in Dahra?'

`I thought you were younger than Jack?'

`I am, sir. I got into uni when I was sixteen and a half.'

`Clever lad. And what do you want to do in Dahra?

`Work as an engineer, sir.'

`Who put this idea in your mind? Jack?'

`Not directly, sir. He talks a great deal about how great Dahra is and
he said one time that he thought that I would like Dahra a lot, me being
gay and that.'

`He knows you are gay.'

`Oh, yes, sir. He is one of my best friends.'

`And why did he specifically mention Dahra to you?'

`Jack said he had seen a lot of people in Dahra with companions whom
they really love and care for. I want to find a companion early on in my
life whom I can love for the rest of my life.'

`He never mentioned anything of this to me.'

`As you yourself said, sir, Jack can be very discreet.'

`Go to sleep, David.'

`You haven't said no to my question, sir.'

`I haven't said no, and I definitely have not said yes.'

`Thank you, sir. One last question, sir, have you ever been sucked off
to sleep?' he asked with a grin. `I am told I suck very well.'

`David, go to sleep. Now. You are not going to bribe me.'

`Yes, sir. No, sir.'

Companionship takes on as many shapes and forms as there are people. I
hoped that Jack and Fiona's would be a long-term commitment to each
other at whatever level. David Tuttle was still seeking companionship. I
was not too sure about Jack's suggestion to him that Dahra might be the
place to find it. Not sure at all, but then again, you never know.

When I returned from Scotland, the Lime Palace was running as smooth as
ever with Aziz at the helm. I saw that the sex techniques which are
acolytes to companionship were now getting formal attention.

I had appointed Frank Kovacs as an overseer at the end of the year to
look into how a programme could be put in place to teach sexual
techniques to my slaves. Anyone I had spoken with on the subject always
seemed to bring his name into the conversation.

Frank had been the runaway slave who had made it to the Aloe Palace
thinking it was a safe haven and sanctuary for slaves and had almost
fainted when he had discovered not only was it not, but that I was the
`retrainer' of slaves. He had done his shoulder in, dislocating it in
jumping off a truck in getting to the Aloe Palace and when it healed he
never seemed according to our records to have any specific job, except
generally helping on the farm. However, all those who had sex with him
raved out it, including Niko his buddy and all said that they could not
wait to have sex with him again.

Looking at Frank Kovacs, standing before me, I saw nothing to write home
about. He was not good looking. He was scrawny, but at the same time his
body proportions seemed just right. His tackle was ordinary.

`Are you doing anything important tonight, Frank?'

`No, Master.'

`Report to Komil then this evening and tonight you will sleep with me.'

That was a misstatement as I later discovered.

`Yes, Master,' he said quietly.

That evening in February is one I shall always remember. He was standing
at `display' when I went into the bedroom and came with Komil to help
me disrobe. I could smell a slight fragrance off him from the shower gel.
As he took my shirt, his fingers touched my skin, and I was mistaken -- I
have to have been mistaken -- but I felt as if a slight electric, yet not
electric, shock had touched my arm.

As I usually change clothes completely after a single day, if undressing
alone, I just drop them on the floor and have the body slaves in morning
look after them. Frank Kovacs, however, folded my shirt carefully and put
it on the side of the dresser.

Komil had relieved me of my shoes and socks and I found Frank kneeling in
front of me to take off my trousers and cotton boxers. This he did with
one fluid motion as I hopped from one leg to the next and before I knew
it, his hand had touched my balls, raising up my flaccid cock and half in
obeisance, half in erotic touch, he kissed my penis and his tongue licked
my balls.

I was about to object, well, I am the Master after all and I do get to
call the shots as who is active and who is passive, at who is to be
versatile and who is to be totally submissive. But Frank's tongue had
moved up the front of the shaft of my now erecting cock and touched that
sensitive spot just between scrotum and pubic skin in the inguinal area.
I did not want him to stop.

Frank stood up and with a back-handing gesture handed my trousers and
boxers to Komil without even bothering to look that he was there to
receive them and with two fingers on my left shoulder, he pushed me back
onto the bed, with the pressure of those two fingers alone.

His right hand had not left my cock and balls and his thumb -- it must
have been his thumb -- was doing something to the moist glans of my cock
head.

I looked at the scrawny figure in whose hands I was and realised that I
was in the hands of a true sexual Master.

That night I learned a thing or two, or rather eight or nine things. I
had never known that the small of my back was so sensitive. I had never
ever known that being licked at the back of my knees could actually make
me go weak at the knees and make me want to grasp a lover tightly, never
to release him. I do know that I was afraid to get off the bed and stand
up, for I knew my legs would not support me.

When Frank motioned Komil over sometime before midnight and had him suck
my nipples as he sucked various parts of my solar plexus, sternum and
navel, I wanted to soar through the roof. But when he finally raised my
legs and started to lubricate my anus with a well-known hand cream, I was
finally about to object. I don't let that many slaves fuck me uninvited,
but for some reason I did not object.

He had Komil kneel up and he draped me up along Komil's warm back. He
then had Komil grasp my wrists as they hung over his shoulders and having
Komil hold my widened my legs apart with his massively long legs which
were spreading wide underneath me, splaying my own legs even wider to
give him unimpeded access to my butt-hole.

I felt his entrance into my most private portal as his fingers ran up and
down my back. I would not have had him stop for all the tea in China and
for over an hour the most gentle, not deep, but extremely tender
penetrations took place which had me trembling on Komil's back. I wanted
to come, but could not. I wanted to achieve orgasm, but dared not ask the
Master in case he had something else he wanted to try out on my tensely,
emotional, crying body.

When I did come, it was not because of his penetration, but because of
his tongue, which inserted itself I do not know how far into my anus and
the motion of a finger on the back of my cock head pushed me over the
precipice of sexual relief from which there is simply no holding back.

I collapsed on the bed like a wet rag. Komil was a mass of perspiration,
almost a mirror image of my own wet rag-doll body. His ten-inch penis was
now at its full erection and its head the size of a small apple dripping
precum.

Normally, Komil is the most active of partners, but I saw Frank Kovacs
give him a smack on the butt, turn him on his back with a gentle push and
in one swift movement cover his large cock head with his mouth.

Komil half-shot up on the bed, only to be pushed back peremptorily by
Frank's two fingers. I could only watch in amazement as Komil's hands
grasped the sheets and opened his mouth gasping for air. I had not
realised that at least one of Frank's fingers had penetrated his
arsehole -- Komil afterwards told me that there were at least two fingers
inside him and directly hitting his prostate with every stroking pass and
brush.

Within sixty seconds, Komil's backside had left the bed and was pushing
up. Frank's mouth was still on Komil's cock head, his tongue strongly
working its magic on Komil's most sensitive, but very large urethra and
then Komil lost the battle and started to come in Frank's mouth.

I saw Frank swallow and swallow at least five or six times. His hand was
still lodged at Komil's back passage and its fingers moving in and out.

I never thought that Komil would be the slave to say stop, but that he
did.

`Frank, stop, please stop, pleaseee...'

Frank Kovacs wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

`As I say, Master, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And,
Master, you weren't that bad yourself, even if I say so myself.'

All I knew looking at the former kindergarten teacher from Kansas was
that I would welcome him into my bed anytime, anyplace.

I looked over at Komil and smiled; he was already sleeping la petite mort
-- the little death -- after satisfying sex.

`Where in heaven's name, Frank, did you learn about sex like that.'

`Lots of reading, lots of practice and lots of imagination, Master. Are
you ready for a second session?'

`No, I am not, Frank. No way. What I wanted to ask you tonight was who
had you thought of as your two assistants for giving sex technique
training to all the slaves.'

`Master, it would take ages to teach all the techniques I know of to all
the slaves. But if we just teach, let's say the first twenty basic
techniques or so, well, I could ask you to approve a programme I have
been putting together. If you approve, I would like Vitali Belov and
Raoul Sounard to be the assistant trainers.'

`Vitali, my masseur?'

`Yes, Master. He is not just a great masseur. All the slaves have voted
him and Raoul as the two best slaves for sex in the Palace.'

A twenty-four year old Russian army conscript who had never been able to
stay in a job and a twenty-seven year old French meat packer were the
choices of all the slaves for trainers in sexual techniques.

It was clearly a case of never judging the book by the cover.

I agreed to both, only on the condition that each day before my afternoon
swim, Vitali would still give me a massage.

`Only until I find you a better masseur, Master,' Frank said with a
grin.

The following morning I woke, as I am wont to do with the first rays of
the sun. One of the things I love to do is to stand at the window and see
the changing colours of the sun as it comes up out of the coastal
dessert. There is a time-window of about five minutes, when the reds and
purples and oranges are superb.

That morning, unusually, Komil did not hear me get up and I looked across
at him out for the count on his stomach on the bed. He was a superb
specimen of slave, his golden skin accentuating the curve of his buttocks
and the cleft between, the rise of his back to his formidable shoulders.
I was lucky that he was mine, though he would have said the opposite.

I had asked Komil once did he enjoy his life at the Palace and he told me
yes that he did.

`Why,' I had asked.

`Master, you give me choices. The day you bought me in al-Mera, you
asked if I wanted to be your slave; you asked if I wanted chains put on
or not. You give me a lot of choices, which even before becoming a slave
I never had. Not only that, but you have looked after me very well and
you have never beaten me, not even once.'

`But if you were free, would you not go back to Uzbekistan?'

`Definitely not, Master. I would not have the freedom there to walk
around naked.'

I had to laugh at that.

`No, Master, seriously -- too many things have changed for me and the
way I think and' -- he did become serious at that point -- `I would not
have the privilege of serving you.'

`In bed, you mean?'

`That yes, Master, but also looking out for your needs, that is what
really gives me pleasure.'

My recollection was interrupted by Komil half-waking up and putting out a
hand to where I should have been lying. Not finding me, he half jumped up
in the bed in fright, but relaxed when he saw me laughing at him from the
window.

The sun was now low over the horizon. With my thumb, I indicated the
bathroom. Frank Kovacs was softly snoring to himself on the other side of
the bed. Komil padded in after me to look after my needs and ablutions. A
perfect slave!

The sex-training programme started the following week and was the single
most successful programme ever applied in any of my Palaces. That I can
say without a shadow of a doubt. No one ever, ever missed a session for
which they were scheduled. Slaves were known to get up from sick beds to
attend.

Frank Kovacs and his two trainers, Vitali and Raoul, in time became to be
known as The Sexletes, which was not a bad description at all for the
sexual athletes that they were.

End of chapter 4. To be continued...