Date: Thu, 18 Dec 2003 23:19:51 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Special Memories - Chapter 20 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the twentieth 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 Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 20 -- The Twins and the Lovers

Admittedly, I had made a financial fool of myself over the purchase of
the twins at the al-Mera slave market. Their names were Danyi and Denko
Placko and soon became known simply as Danny and Denny. It became
necessary to find something for them to do, at which they might actually
be useful.

As very basic training can take anything up to a month in some cases, I
asked both Dumi Bod and Yuriy Obov, my stables overseers who managed the
farms, if they wanted the two at the end of training. Dumi felt the
biceps of one with a grasp of his hand and the twin almost collapsed to
the ground. Yuriy went up to the other twin and with his fist certainly
not more than an inch from the stomach of other twin gave him a jab in
the solar plexus, which sent the twin staggering. Yuriy looked at Dumi
and Dumi looked at Yuriy and then both looked at me and said almost in
unison, `No, thank you, Master.'

I had noticed that Aziz had assigned one of the better oxen teams who
always produce good result to the twins -- Spyros, the Greek slave and
Joao, the Brazilian. So I told them that when the twins were not being
specifically trained, that they were to help the water-guys who operated
on the fringes of every overseer, in that they were wandering all over
the farms during the working day.

And with that, I thought to myself, `well that is that for a month
hopefully.'

Just how wrong can you be at times?



A week later, after inspection -- it was a Friday and one of `my' days
to do it - I noticed the three water-guys, Gary, Justie and Donnie, had
not made any move to leave the courtyard and there seemed to be a confab
going on between the three. I saw Justie, Mr. Freckles, as I called him
to myself, looking in my direction under the brim of his straw hat. The
three would not be required to give water to the slaves for at least an
hour, until it started to get warm. So I went up on the veranda
ostensibly to have another cup of coffee and waited. I did not have to
wait long.

Raising my eyes over the rim of the cup of coffee, the three were
standing there rather nervously at `display' at the base of the steps
up to the veranda.

Putting down the cup, I walked down to the three who seemed, yes, nervous
and on edge. Donnie, of the spindly legs, was nearest to me. I put my
hand on his chest and on his shoulders. There was a slight stickiness of
Aloe milk on his skin where he had been covered with our home-made sun
block.

`You're getting a nice suntan. Is your buddy putting on enough lotion
in the mornings, Donnie?' I said trying to put him at his ease.

Normally slaves stay looking into the middle distance, but maybe it was
because I mentioned his name, he looked at me and blushed slightly at the
personal attention.

`Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Master.'

`And you, Justie, are you getting freckles on those nice balls of yours,
or is your buddy giving you a little feel up there each morning with the
Aloe milk.'

Justie was totally embarrassed when he replied, `Yes, Master. I mean,
no, Master. I mean...'

`Justie, you are looking well. Just keep that straw hat on you and
don't get burned.'

`Yes, Master.'

`So Gary, the ringleader as ever? What are you up to now?' and as I
spoke, I lifted his balls in the palm of my hand. He came up on the balls
of his feet. Lifting a little higher and he gasped--not in any pain, but
in surprise, as he now stood on tippy-toe.

`Sir, eh, Master, there is a problem and we wanted to talk to you, to
someone about it. `

`What problem?'

Gary looked at the two others, who nodded back to him.

`About Danny and Denny, Master. They're not pulling their weight and
they are annoying the lads working in the fields.'

There is one thing hearing about a problem. There is another thing
hearing about a purchase which cost one hundred thousand euro and which,
even before a week was up was being called a `problem'.

`You know our job, Master,' Gary continued, `when the lads in the
fields get hot, we give them a back-rub with a cool cloth, even over
their bums and down their legs if there is a lot of sweat and with the
heat some of the lads do sweat a lot. Sometimes, when their backs are
finished and they turn round, you know, Master, they have thrown a boner,
so Dumi told us just wash them down on the front as well.'

`Yes, that's what you are supposed do. And by the way, the lads are to
be called `slaves'. Got that, Gary?'

`Yes, Master.'

`So, where is there a problem?'

`Danny and Denny are just flicking the cloths at the slaves and when
anyone has a boner, they have been throwing cold water at the boner, not
actually, you know, rubbing it down with a cold cloth. Now the slaves are
throwing us dirty looks when we come up to them and are telling us to
keep `the two blonds', as Danny and Denny are being called, away from
them.'

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw my secretary, Ben Trant, enter the
courtyard followed by his charge Gianni Centini. Just the slave I needed
to do some messages for me, if the water-guys' accusation was justified.

`How long as this been going on, Gary?'

`Three, four days, Master.'

Ben had left Gianni standing in front of the slave quarters -- I wondered
did the Italian have nothing to do that day? - and he approached me and
the three English slaves.

Going over to Justie, I took his balls in my hand.

`Have you any idea how hard I can squeeze these balls of yours,
Justie.'

His eyes were wide with the surprise of a hand on his privates with a
firm grasp around his scrotum.

`No, Master'.

`Give a guess, Justie.'

`Not very hard, I hope, Master' and his eyes were half closed, face in
a grimace.

`If there is one word of a lie in what Gary has been saying for all
three of you, you have no idea just how hard your balls are going to be
squeezed.'

`Master, it's true! It's true, Master! Every word of it,' he gasped
at the implied threat.

`And you, Donnie? Are you backing up Gary and Justie on this?'

`Yes, Master,' he said with a bobbing Adam's apple.

`Fine then. Off you go the three of you and do your jobs.'

My secretary slave had been observing the latter part of this exchange I
told him to call Radek Pachlik, the Czech overseer and have him call
Danny and Denny.

Some ten minutes later the overseer and the two Slovak twins were
standing before me at `display' in the courtyard with my secretary.

`Ben, go and ask Greg Logan in the training centre for one of his camel
canes and have Jess Tollman bring some of his stones.'

Ben scurried off.

`Radek, at rest. Do you know what these two have been up to?'

`No, Master. What have they been doing?'

`Not doing, Radek. They have not been doing their jobs. Translate for
me.'

`Danny and Denny, have the two of you anything to say about the way you
have been working?'

There were glances between them as the words were translated by Radek.

`Nothing at all wrong?'

Both again looked at each other, now much more worried than when they had
come into the courtyard.

`Sorry, Master,' Denny said with the interpreter. `We were only joking
with the others.'

`Well, the others did not complain. It was your own water-guys who saw
that you were not doing your job and insulting the others as they tried
to do theirs. What do you think your punishment should be?'

At this stage, Greg and Jess had arrived. Greg with a cane and Jess with
four ordinary bricks.

There was no response from the Slovaks.

`Danny bend over. And you Denny lie over his back,' which the two did
with some apprehension.

`Greg, five of your best across Denny's buttocks and Radek when each
stroke lands, Denny is to say `Thank you, Master,' at the very top of
his voice, or else his five strokes starts again.'

After each swish of the cane, Denny's voice shouted to the walls of the
courtyard and I accepted that what was said was `Thank you, Master' in
Slovak. When five perfect parallel lines painted his backside, I had him
exchange places with Danny and the performance was repeated.

Danny's shouts were even louder as his five strokes were delivered with
metronome regularity.

`Now, Radek, tell them to kneel and Jess, put one of those bricks of
yours in either outstretched hand. If their arms drop, Radek, give them a
stroke of the cane. Fifty minutes holding up the bricks, ten minutes off,
until the slaves return from the fields and they see these two being
punished. Put their cold water trolley beside them and if any slave
wishes to wash them down, he can do it, otherwise they stay kneeling as
they are.'

`And Jess, get them two hats, I don't want them getting sunstroke here
in the courtyard.'

I left the slaves and ascended the veranda steps, called for Bob to bring
me some fresh coffee and sat down to the stack of papers I wanted to read
that morning.

From the veranda where I was working in the heat of the day, I could see
the two Slovaks sweating and crying and desperately trying to keep their
arms up. Every ten minutes, Radek would walk out and around them and as
the perspiration poured off them even more so as they tried to avoid
further caning, which occurred from time to time.

I had only finished the first page of my reading, when, looking up, I saw
Ben Trant standing beside the table.

`Ben, I have only just started on this, obviously I have nothing for you
yet. Go work on those documents for Josh Green and come back here in a
couple of hours.'

`Yes, Master. Master, do you wish me to report to one of the overseers
for Gianni's inspection, or do you wish to postpone it.'

Surprised, I looked down into the courtyard, and sure enough I saw not
only Radek with his cane and the twins with their bricks, but also my
gift from Tariq al-Akhri still standing at rest in the warming morning
sun.

`I see. I am not much in the mood to inspect any slave today. He has
been here a month already?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Well, you are the one who never loses track of anything. So you think
he is well trained, do you?'

`Yes, Master, I think so.'

`Have you asked the assistant trainers what happens to minders who do
not train their given slaves well?'

`No, Master.'

`That confident are you, Ben, my lad, are you now?'

I could see him swallowing at this point, while he murmured another `No,
Master.'

I looked down at my papers, at the Italian slave in the courtyard, and
back into the slate grey eyes of my secretary. Then we heard the sound of
Radek's cane as it swished through the air and landed on one of the
kneeling twins.

`Fine. We shall see about this right away. Get his file and the duty
roster.'

`I have them here, Master.'

`Of course. Now go down there and wait beside him, and let me drink my
coffee.'

I have always remembered the words of advice given by Gus Jennings,
Tariq's head of stables and a formidable trainer of slaves, that it
really takes two years for a slave to be truly and fully trained, not
just obedient and subservient to his Master, but docile in handling,
trusting of the Master's care for him and malleable to the Master's
wishes.

Gianni Centini had arrived at the Lime Palace as a gift of my friend, the
deputy to the deputy finance Minister, Tariq al-Akhri. He had been
delivered directly from the dealer without even the usual pre-auction
training instilled.

At this stage in my slave-owning career, I knew the fifteen basic slave
commands which are impressed on the mind of each new slave in both
English and in Arabic. Having finished the last drop of my coffee, I
breathed deeply and wondered to myself. Then I walked down past Radek,
the Slovaks and their trolley, and towards the pair in front of the slave
quarters. On seeing my arrival, Ben who was holding a clipboard in his
hand took two steps backwards out of my way, and the Sardinian slave went
to `display'.

I looked Gianni over. The depilatory cream applied previously three times
had got rid of any facial hair permanently, as indeed the small amount of
chest hair which he had previously sported. His genitals were now
permanently bare as were his arms and legs. His overall skin, apart from
his armpits and his trimmed pubic hair as with his cropped head, was now
perfectly smooth and showing the beginnings of some definition.

I gave the first ten commands in English and Gianni sped through them. It
was easy enough for him as I stuck to the order in which they are taught
to a slave. As I had stopped suddenly at number ten which is to bend
forward, he was straining to stand up erect as number eleven would
command him. I had almost caught him out, but not quite.

I finished off the last five commands in English and could see him almost
thinking of the commands in Arabic from number one ascending. I started
from the second last command downwards which he obeyed immediately.

I motioned Gianni across to the slave quarters for his examination and
had Ben follow with the slave's file and the duties to be done around
the Palaces.

`Display', I ordered and the slave put his hands behind his neck
immediately and stood at attention, his feet two feet apart. I examined
Gianni Centini carefully. He had required eye treatment and his dental
work was now perfect after Cal Thorsen's intervention. Yves Fournier had
removed a small tattoo from his shoulder and a mole from his leg. Neither
spot showed any proof that either item had ever been there previously,
other than a slight paleness in the skin in those particular spots.

I cupped his balls and squeezed until I saw him lift onto the balls of
his feet and his toes began to curve inwards. It was not a tight squeeze,
but simply was a declaration to the slave that as Master he was mine to
touch and to hurt, if such were ever warranted.

I pulled back the generous foreskin which covered his glans and the pink
head of his cock appeared quite moist and coloured with tiny spots of
different shades of purples and reds and pinks. While circling the
underside of his cock head with my thumb, I looked into his eyes. There
was anxiety, but no fear, as I had seen the first time when he had
arrived.

Why is he so uneasy, Ben?'

`I have told Gianni to do everything you ordered, Master. He is just
worried that he will not understand you. He has very good English, but
needs to get accustomed to different accents.'

I gave Ben a withering gaze, as if to say `my English is not accented'.

`How are his tests?'

`They are all in, Master and all clear.'

`What is missing?'

`Only his length when flaccid and the results of his prostate
examination, Master.'

`Right, let's get on with it. Up,' and I indicated the examination
table to the slave. It served for various things, but when slaves were
being examined, it was an examination table.

Gianni Centini hopped up quickly on the table and spread his knees at
least two feet apart, his head and chest on the table, his hands clasped
in the middle of his back. He had been well instructed on this procedure.
His buttocks, perineum and now the back of his balls were clearly
visible, hairless and smooth to the touch.

I worked a lubricated finger round and past his sphincter muscle and
chute, which was free from all polyps and haemorrhoids. His prostate was
in and down just over his bladder and was the target of my digital
attention. By now, I am quite a Master, if you will pardon the immodesty
of the claim and the pun on the word, of prostate digitations. I have no
need to use two fingers and definitely no use for three. One is quite
enough when you know what to do and where to do it.

Gianni Centini went into prostate overload, as I term it to myself, at
about two minutes of his internal examination. He gasped out loud as the
first of four streams of semen left his now hardened penis and the pools
gathered on the table underneath him.

I slapped him lightly on the buttock and untangled my hand from his
clasp.

`Down' I said in Arabic.

He hopped down. I gave him the finger to lick which had been examining
him. He sucked it without showing any emotion.

I tasted a line of his white semen. It was salty and tasted of sea water.
I had Ben make a note and took up the measuring tape. He was just under
four inches when flaccid. I pointed to the now drying semen and told
Gianni to lick it up, which he did.

While the slave was eating his own cum, I took up the duty roster to see
what was vacant. There was always something or other to be filled, when
slaves were on other temporary duties or with the medical staff.

`Have you a list of slaves who have no buddies at the moment?'

`It's at the back of the rosters, Master.'

There were four names on the list, including Ben's own.

`What are you trying to say, Ben?' I said, but looking at Gianni
Centini when I asked it.

`Master, I would like Gianni to be my buddy and I would like to be
his.'

There was a glimmer of something in Gianni's eyes.

`Do you understand what Ben is asking, Gianni?'

`Yes, Master.'

This was the first time Gianni had actually spoken to me. Even with a two
word reply, his English was crisp and clear and only slightly accented.

`Do you want to be his buddy?'

`Yes, Master?'

`Why?'

`Because, Master, because...he is gay, like me.'

That statement confirmed what I had suspected. I looked at Ben and there
was a red spot in both his cheeks.

`When did you know that, Ben?'

`When Gianni walked into your study that night, Master. I knew then that
I would always love him.'

`Okay, Ben, Gianni. Buddies you are. Now what work duty?'

I flicked back to the vacancies on the duty roster and saw Inaki was
looking for some help in the production area of the Aloe milk-sap and
Aloe laxative.

`You seem to have it all organised, Ben. Where would I be without you? I
have not been easy on you, but it was for a purpose. I needed to know
that you could stand the pace and speed of the things I have to do. Now
show me how you love this Gianni of yours.'

`Master, thank you,' and he went across and gave his new buddy a hug
which went on and on as they see-sawed back and forth holding each other.

Gianni Centini could not stop smiling.

`Master,' Ben said, `I have never given you a full obeisance and I
would like to now to show you not just how much I want to serve you, but
how much I actually love you as well. Can I?'

Ben knelt on the floor of the slave quarters, indicated to Gianni to
kneel beside him and carefully undid my belt, shucking down my trousers
and boxers around my ankles.

Taking my now stiffening penis in his hand, he looked up to me and said
`Master, you have my obedience and my love' and he kissed the top of my
glans.

Ben shuffled sideways and allowed Gianni to take his place. Gianni looked
at him and asked, `the words?' This part of the morning clearly had not
been rehearsed.

`Master, you have...

`my obedience...

`and my love'.

Ben said the words. Gianni repeated them and kissed my penis with a smile
on his face and on his lips.

I dismissed the two lovers, my secretary who did not tell lies and my
gift from a good friend, and returned to the papers needing attention.

When some of the slaves returned at eleven o'clock from the fields
before the heat of the midday, they looked at the two being punished out
in the sun. The courtyard has this ability to heat up during the day. I
noticed one of the slaves, having spoken with Radek, went across and
wiped down both of the Slovak twins, holding up each arm and it was
sponged down with a wet cloth and their lips were moistened with the
dampness of the cleaning cloth.

The same happened around five when the day's work was done, another two
slaves went out into courtyard and each washed down one of the two
Slovaks. All three of these slaves who had washed down the Slovaks were,
I was told, some of those whom the twins had teased and tormented.

At the end of the day, both must have received a further ten or twelve
strokes of the cane because their backsides were flaming red against
their fair skin which had not yet sufficient days in the Dahran sun to
become tanned.

But the two Slovaks were totally exhausted; not having ever had to
experience such torment and I had them taken away to be showered and
cleaned up.

Dinner that evening was only myself, Jack, Nacho Cuesta, the eye-doctor
and the Cal Thorsen, the dentist -- Dr. Fournier having to treat some
minor emergency in late surgery.

We had some very nice dessert, which was essentially some type of plain
vanilla ice-cream with a whipped chocolate blended into it. I asked Marko
if there was more of it in the kitchens and he said, there was still half
a bowl. I told him to get me three further portions and to bring them out
on the veranda.

The slaves were still in the courtyard having their evening meal of
biscuits and water and had not yet started to disband for their walks
around the gardens. I caught Radek's eye and asked him to find the three
slaves who had washed down the two Slovaks during the day, who by this
time, I noticed were huddled together over to the side of the courtyard.

The three slaves were found and came to the start of the steps up to the
veranda. I summoned them up with an index finger. They were at `rest'.

`Kneel.'

The three knelt down and I handed each a bowl of the ice-cream we had had
for dinner. I am always conscious that slaves not having very solid food
for a long time can quite easily have their stomachs harmed by ordinary
food.

There was absolute silence in the courtyard as everyone observed what was
happening on the veranda. One of the slaves -- they were all
prisoner-slaves - had his gold necklace on, which meant that he had been
in the Lime Palace for over a month and had been properly trained in
Palace ways. The other two were not wearing any necklace, which did mean
that they definitely had none, or else would have been proudly wearing
them after work.

`Master?'

The slave with the necklace wanted to speak. I nodded to him.

`Master, can I share this with my buddy?'

`If you wish.'

He got up immediately and hurried across the courtyard, carefully bearing
his bowl close to his chest until he sat down beside another slave and
began sharing the ice-cream with the other.

The two remaining slaves in front of me were still not eating. With my
hand, I indicated to them to start and they dove into the ice-cream with
relish. I watched them eat with undisguised pleasure and a further idea
began formulating in my mind. It did not take the slaves very long to
finish off the bowls of ice-cream and to lick them totally clean.

`How long are you in the Lime Palace?'

One was almost a month here, but not quite, the other three weeks.

I called Ben Trant over, who by now knew the combination of the safe in
the office and I told him to get me out three necklaces. The two slaves
on their knees either did not hear the conversation or understand it,
because they were astonished when I told them to stand up and before the
assembled slaves gave them their necklaces and mentioned what they had
done to the two twins who had not done as much for others in need.

The third necklace was for Gianni Centini and I called him forward as
well. Flavio was standing there just outside the kitchen and when he saw
his fellow Italian being given his necklace, he came over to me and asked
if he could give Gianni also a bowl of ice-cream. I said okay. That was
the start of another tradition at the Palace on the awarding of the
necklaces.

The two slave were still at my feet -- modern day Olivers with their
empty bowls.

`Now you need a buddy each. Have you a buddy in mind, either of you?'

Neither had. So, I called up the two Slovaks and gave them as buddies for
the following month to the two newly necklaced slaves with the
instruction that if Danny and Denny did not please them in every single
way each night, they were being obliged as slaves of the Palaces to bring
their buddy to the retraining room the following morning for three
retraining cane strokes. The two Slovaks ended up in the retraining in
the following month a total of five times in the first ten days and after
that they were not a problem for their buddies.

The Slovaks for their part from the morning following their assignment as
buddies, quite literally flew around the fields and attempted to make up
for lost opportunities. I personally had no difficulty whatsoever from
them afterwards.

Danyi and Denko Placko were a constant visible reminder to me that even
though you can pay an exorbitant price, it does not mean you are either
getting value for money or even a good bargain. Post-auction times are
those when you can repent of your folly at your leisure.

Yuriy as stables manager of the Aloe Palace had set about preparing for
the planting of what we calculated would be almost a quarter of a million
Aloe plants on over five hundred acres. He created a garden nursery to
give us a continuing supply of new plants and from the existing species,
we chose the Aloe socotrina which was plentiful in Dahra and which had a
track record of growth in the climate so to speak and then the Aloe
ferox, the Aloe barbadensis and a very sturdy plant the Aloe abyssinica,
each of which would cover almost a hundred and forty planted acres.

When several of the slaves heard what was going to happen, they wanted to
work on the project.

And even though they were only at the Lime Palace under three months, the
three water-guys -- Gary, Justie and Donnie -- all wanted to work on it.
Justie wanted it because Gary wanted it. Gary wanted it because it meant
that he would be working closely with Yuriy. When he had found out that
Yuriy had been a Captain in the Kazakh Spetnaz -- special forces -- the
former squaddie's admiration became adulation.

The adulation became worship when Yuriy called Gary to his quarters and
as he went to `display', Yuriy took him by the cock and led him to his
bed where he fucked him solid for an hour without let up.

This was Yuriy's way of securing loyalty from his close subordinates as
he told me later. With his cock embedded to the hilt in the English
squaddie, Yuriy told he had asked him if he still wanted to be on his
team, to which Gary had replied `only, sir, if you promise to put me
through my paces like this each week.'

Yuriy was just as hard on the other two -- Justie and Donnie -- and
Donnie pretended to be bow-legged when he staggered out of Yuriy's
quarters to the grins of the other two pals.

Dumi Bod allowed the three English water-guys to transfer across and put
a couple of the older slaves alongside the Slovak twins on the water
carrier duty.



I had Josh Green in the Grand Cayman Island create a holding company for
the various subsidiaries needed for the production of the Aloe milk-sap
and the Aloe laxative, along with a number of backup companies for the
production of the final products.

One of the consistent visitors to the Aloe Palace and then to my new home
the Lime Palace over the previous two years had been Gus Jennings, who
was Tariq al-Akhri's stables manager and a former master-sergeant in the
military. He was the ultimate no-nonsense person who ran a very tight
ship at Tariq's Palace, which was about twenty to twenty five minutes
drive away.

I had gotten the impression over time that Gus just missed the company of
those who spoke English, or American as he would say. He had also
intimated to Aziz, my head of household, that all was not well with a new
head of household at Tariq's Palace.

I mentioned the setting up of the holding company and its subsidiaries to
him and could see the immediate interest in his eyes.

`I don't know what your agreement with Tariq is, but if you ever wished
to come to help me with the production of the Aloe milk-sap and the Aloe
purgative...'

I didn't have to finish, because he immediately said, `Jonathan, it
would be swell to work for you. My contract runs up to the end of
December.'

We were like two boxers taking the measure of each other in a way,
neither wishing to say too much and not wishing to say too little.

`Gus, the easy way on this is for you to first have a word with Tariq
about leaving his employ and then writing up the contract you want with
me.'

A month later Ben Trant handed me Gus Jenning's contract. It was a
modest request from a very talented man. I struck out the salary he had
suggested and put in a quarter of a million a year like the medical
personnel, with one per cent of the profit from the holding company I had
set up.

From year one, Gus Jennings never earned less that a million dollars a
year, and from month one, I had never to put my foot inside any of the
factories bottling and shipping the Aloe Milk and the Aloe Purgative, nor
any of their back up subsidiaries

Once a month thereafter, we would have lunch at the Dahran Bilton and he
presented me with a one page report of the financial state of the
company.



Back on the farm at the Aloe Palace, it was one thing to produce the
nursery plants, it was another thing to have row after row and acre after
acre planted. This went on for over three months until the end of the
year.

I was more than happy to see this project coming to fruition as it meant
solid hard work each day for what were once the prisoner-slaves and who
had been incorporated almost seamlessly into the life of the Palaces.

I say almost because four of the prisoner-slaves caused some problems and
I had them retrained for a full month. Three of them were very much
humbled and better slaves by the time their time of retraining was up. I
asked each of the four if they wished to be returned to their prisons in
Europe -- though in my heart of hearts I thought that would be impossible
with the level of knowledge they now possessed about slavery in Dahra and
believed the Sheikdom would never allow it.

However, the four protested and said no way would they return to Europe.
I was prepared to believe three of them as I say, but the fourth, a very
stubborn Slav originally from Montenegro, but who was sent to us from
Greece, I really did not believe. I did not think he was lying, but
rather simply incapable of realising what was required of him to be a
fully and totally manse servile and compliant slave.

`What do you value most as a man?' I asked him before the three others
and the retrainers when they had come through the last day of their
retraining. He looked puzzled at the question. I rephrased it.

`What do you prize most, your hands, your feet, your eyes or your
balls?'

He was a very sturdy good-looking slave, with a fine bush of black pubic
hair trimmed to the Palace's standard two inches and similar in his
pits. He got the message.

`My balls, Master.'

`The next time you disobey any overseer or cause trouble, you will lose
your left ball. I will simply have it cut off. Do you understand?'

I don't think he actually understood the seriousness of the threat. But
he did say, `Yes, Master.'

`Do you know what happens if you lose your left ball?'

I did not wait for a reply.

`The first thing is that you will never, ever, allow yourself to lose
your right ball. The second thing is that you become quite gentle, like a
young, little dog. Do you understand? Lose your second ball and you
become like an ox. Very, very quiet and easy for a child to handle. Think
about that.'

For the first time at that point I though I saw true fear in his eyes and
I thought to myself that fear in one might be no bad thing if loyalty
were not his first choice towards his Master.



To handle the extraction of the Aloe milk-sap from the Aloe leaves and
their subsequent steeping for producing the laxative compound, I had a
factory constructed at the edge of the Aloe Palace where the comings and
goings would not impinge on life in the Palaces proper.

I began to think about who could be entrusted with the supervision of the
process once our Aloe leaves could be harvested and the Aloe milk
extracted. Outdoor farming is one thing, indoor production quite another.

One evening before dinner, I had Ben do an updated printout of the
personnel sheets. Then I sat down on the veranda and perused the long
list of slaves in my possession. My eyes fell on two names. I called for
my secretary and told him to have the former Basque journalist Inaki
Ergoitia and his English buddy Donnie to come and see me.



Whatever they saw in each other, one a poorly educated former petrol pump
attendant with a thick London accent and the other a well-educated writer
from the Iberian Peninsula, they had become not just friends, but lovers.

Inaki had been helping out on the various farms without any problem after
his initial misgivings, but had never really settled down to a specific
task. His eye had healed to perfection after its straightening by Nacho
Cuesta, the Lime Palace's ophthalmologist.

Donnie, on the other hand, was an uncomplicated lad and went literally
where he was led. Such was the case when they arrived on the veranda,
Inaki in front and Donnie directly behind him. Both made an obeisance and
went to `display'.

Donnie's nineteen-year-old pits had only a fine sprinkling of hair,
while Inaki's twenty-eight-year old Iberian pits were full of dark
lustrous black hair. I noticed that both were uncut, but not exactly well
endowed.

`Inaki, you look well. I think you have put on a little weight even. And
Donnie, you are looking less sunburned than the last time I saw you.'

`Yes, Master,' was repeated twice.

`Do you want a job, Inaki?'

`Yes, Master, whatever you want.'

`You haven't heard what the job is. No reservations whatsoever?'

`No reservations, Master. None at all.'

`Yuriy tells me we will need a production manager for the Aloe
processing plant once it is completed. Yuriy won't be able to do two
jobs at the one time. His job is stables overseer and should be nothing
else. Would you be interested?'

Donnie's eyes were brilliant with admiration as he looked at Inaki.

`Yes, indeed, Master,' Inaki replied and very quietly asked, `would I
get to choose my assistant, Master?'

`I suppose so, if you can think of anyone special' -- Donnie was
holding his breath. His eyes were now wide open.

`Master, I would like Donnie here as an assistant.'

Puppy-dog eyes looked at me from the former water-guy. I nodded approval
with a smile and Donnie launched himself on Inaki to hug him and almost
lift him from the ground.



When I told Yuriy that evening, he was delighted with the news, as it got
a problem off his plate.

'I was thinking, Master, of asking for two assistants -- not
assistant-overseers -- just assistants for the moment to help me on the
farm duties relating to the planting. And later there will be the
collection of the Aloe leaves and also we will have to dispose each
morning of the used leaves of the previous day.'

Why was I not surprised when he mentioned Gary's and Justie's names.

`I presume that this has nothing to do with the fact you are bedding
both of them each day. What does Radek say about all of this?'

Yuriy laughed.

`You have heard, Master. These two guys are lovers, but they like being
in bed with me for an hour every midday when the sun is too high for work
and they are getting to be quite good lovers. I told Radek about them and
he said `About time. Now maybe, I can get a little more sleep at
night.' He's okay with it, Master.'

That in itself confirmed one of my theories to me that regular sex for
very active people is a great therapy for a lot of ills and the easing of
all types of work and social pressures.



One thing I felt I had to do was have lunch with Tariq al-Akhri, which
occurred in late December. He had been away a lot in recent months at a
series of well publicised world meetings involving both the Oil and
Finance Ministers, the latter being his figurehead boss.

I did not quite understand one of his references that I would be doing
more business with the EU. I had taken it to mean he was talking about
the Bank, but in the New Year I found out just what had been discussed
well and truly over my head -- an almost taking of my agreement for
granted.

My own reason for the lunch was to thank him for Gianni Centini and to
apologise to him for taking Gus Jennings, his stables overseer, from him
at the end of the month.

`I am sorry to lose Mr. Jennings. He is a marvellous manager, but you
may have heard I have had some other organisational problems at my Palace
with a former head of household, now thankfully resolved, but I did get
the impression that he wanted to move on.'

`Tariq, I never really thanked you for my very first slave, Yuriy Obov,
all of almost three years ago and now another and a manager and as I know
you do like horses, I hope you will accept this small gift by way of
thanks, made by the way in Dahra.'

The small gift was a horse in full gallop, mane flying, two feet off the
ground, in sold gold. I was grateful for the fact that we were in a
private dining-room at the Dahran Bilton, because Tariq was quite
overcome and embraced me in a bear hug.

`Jonathan, I can truly say, I have never seen anything quite so
beautiful.'

Although the lunch was almost over, for Tariq it became forgotten as he
looked at his new gift from all angles.

If I say so myself, it was beautiful and worth every eurocent of the
eighty five thousand.

I said, to my overcome guest, `it is, Tariq, on two conditions, that I
don't take anymore of your staff and you don't send me anymore
slaves.'

`Nonsense, Jonathan, take as many as you want from me and I shall send
you as many more,' Tariq said with a laugh of pleasure of that type
which can only be shared between those who truly share a bond of deep
friendship.

End of Chapter 20