Date: Sun, 30 Nov 2003 18:42:55 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Special Memories - Chapter 3 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the third 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 your
live, please leave this webpage now.

Contact points:

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The Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 3 - The Australian -- Day 2


I had instructed Rolf Hanzer on Roge Harte's second day of training that
I wanted to see Roge Harte every five days, or as close to that as I
could, my business commitments permitting, so as to personally supervise
his training and performance in gym work. I also thought that as absence
makes the heart grow fonder, seeing him less frequently than for example
each day, the sexual thrill of seeing his body develop even over and
beyond his present state of fitness and the breaking down of his
prejudices as to sex and other matters, would be all the more pleasant to
me.

The morning after his arrival, Roge Harte was brought to me after
breakfast by his two overnight minders, Food and Drink.

As I was sitting on the veranda overlooking the courtyard, they made a
full obeisance touching their foreheads to the ground for five seconds
and then standing at display. They were on their utter best behaviour,
which was just short of a miracle.

Normally, had I met them for a first time in the day inside the Palace,
they would have just danced attendance and the inside Palace slaves,
particularly those in the kitchens with pots and pans and food in their
hands, knew that they do not have to give the sign of full obeisance to
me their Master. I had deemed it safer that way.

Roge made no move to go on his knees.

'It is usual on meeting me outside the Palace for the first time on any
day to make obeisance to me as Master. You saw what the other two slaves
have just done and how they are now standing.'

I could see his Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed and then slowly he
made obeisance and went to display.

'Well done, Roge. Perfect on the first go'--well, it was not actually,
but a little praise goes a long way with a new slave.

'For the next thirty days or so, you are going to learn the ways of the
Palace.'

There was no need to say 'the ways of slavedom' to rub in his new
condition.

'We have ways of doing and not doing things here. You may have been
surprised at being sucked off in the showers in the mornings'.

I think that got half a nod.

'The simplest thing here is to do what you are told. Do not do what you
are told not to do. You do not speak until spoken to. You do not normally
ask questions of me, but I am here every evening, as you will find out
and after the evening meal slaves can come and say whatever it is that is
on their mind.'

'Now all of this so far, have you understood?'

'Yeah,' was the monosyllabic reply. The proper show of verbal respect
would come later.

'Now kneel down here beside me and let me take a look at those nipples of
yours. Are they a bit painful still?'

'You bet they are, mate,'--with those deep brown eyes of his, Roge Harte
could have 'mated' me all morning.

'You'll be shown the grounds of the Lime Palace today by Bob, whom you
met last night. One of the plants, which grow in abundance around here is
the Aloe socotrina, it has big spiky leaves and you won't be able to
miss it. It possesses a number of unusual properties. Chew a bit of the
leaf and you will spend the day shitting on the toilet. But break a bit
of the hard stem, like this'--I had long serrated leaf on the table
beside me--'and you get what looks like milk seeping out. It is the best
sunblock ever and is what we use on the new slaves here to stop sunburn,
but also it has a strange property on sensitive skin, something like a
painkiller.'

As this point, Roge was kneeling beside my chair. I put a dab of the Aloe
sap on my finger and was reaching out to touch his left nipple, when he
instinctively leant backwards on his knees.

'Easy, easy, Roge, I am not going to hurt you.'

This is an important procedure. The slave being trained has to see the
same trainer who is able to apply a punishing procedure, or being there
with the slave, being willing and able to make the hurt go away with some
clove oil, or as now with some Aloe milk. It is a question of power and
its application.

Roge straightened up, but kept his eyes fixed on the tip of my finger
with which I touched his nipple as gently as if I was touching a part of
his eye. He hissed as he pulled a breath in through his teeth and I
covered the bruised nipple with the Aloe milk sap. I did the same to his
left nipple.

'Those little clips hurt a bit yesterday, didn't they, Roge.'

'Bugger right they did, mate.'

'Well, you'll have to make sure that you give me no reason to bring you
back to the retraining room.'

'You mean I'm not going back there today?'

I overlooked the question from the slave.

'What gave you that impression?'

'You said, training goes on for eighty something days and the guys last
night said that sessions could go over some days.'

'Ah, yes, retraining for hard-headed slaves, Roge. Not for guys who are
quick learners. Which are you, Rog? Hard-headed or a quick learner.'

'A bloody quick learner where those little bugger clips are concerned.'

'By the way, Roge, when you do speak to me, you will normally say,
'Master' or 'Boss'.'

'What's the difference?'

Another question and again no respectful mode of address. Ah, sometimes,
a slave trainer has to have such patience!

'Roge, there is no real difference. Master is a direct translation from
the Arabic, when referring to ownership of slaves. Boss is just a word
which one of the English slaves here--Ross Wells--uses and it seems to
have caught on with the English speakers. Which would you prefer?'

I let the question hang. Another swallow of his Adam's apple and I
wondered if my psychology of letting him choose the mode of respectful
address for his owner would click.

'Boss, I think.'

'Very good, Roge' -- 'game, set', I thought to myself. In time, we would
have to see about 'match'.

'Now, while I have this Aloe milk on my hands stand up and turn round.
One of the spots where the new slaves are always getting burned in under
the tan line on their back. You obviously did not do much nude sunbathing
with that clear tan line you have there.'

Roge had turned round and the curve of his perfect back ran down to a
thirty-inch or so tapered waist. At the bottom of his spine, a few wisps
of blond hair were just visible above and below his coccyx. On my
instructions, the depilatory creams had not yet been applied to his body.

I started to apply the Aloe milk-sap to the perfect hollow of his lower
back, giving the top of his crack the lightest of frottages. His perfect
buns were clenched so tight that they could have held a folded newspaper
without any problem. Ah, that body was perfection!

I had not told Roge just below the coccyx and over the divide of the
buttocks is one of the body's erogenous zones and one of the reasons why
beatings and spankings of the buttock can also cause involuntary
erection, not simply because of the pain element involved.

Oh, how deceitful I am, for not having mentioned that fact. I know. I
know. But I was not about to burden Roge Harte's mind with a trivial
detail like that, when my purpose there was to instil, in time, a desire
of full and utter trust and obedience to me, as his owner and Master.

Food and Drink were beginning to grin and I knew what was happening, as I
had known what would when that particular erogenous zone was massaged.
Roge's previously flaccid, five inch member was now throwing an eight
inch boner and I had the opportunity to gaze in delight on his length,
its thickness, the colour of the cock head which had been revealed when
the prepuce had naturally slid back and settled like a winter woolly
scarf behind the generous corona of Roge's penis.

I had turned him round and there was the hint of a blush in his cheeks.

'Roge, I though you were straight, you said. How come you get a boner
when a guy rubs your ass? You're not a teeny bit gay are you?'

He appeared to be at a loss for words for a second, than then a hoarse,
'No way, Boss,' issued from his throat.

'These two must not have sucked you off at all this morning like everyone
else, Roge.'

'They did, Boss, one each in the showers.'

'So what's with the boner then, Roge. You're not a bumboy are you?' -- I
could not help but try to rub it in.

'No way, Boss. I like the sheilas. I don't know, Boss. It just started
all on its own.'

Ah, I thought to myself. A little denial, not willing to say how much he
had liked having his lower back and the top of his bum rubbed. But all
will develop in due course!

I turned in mock annoyance to Food and Drink who were there with
ear-to-ear grins at Roge's hardon, which was now leaking precum.

'You two must not have sucked off the new slave at all this morning,' I
said in Arabic. They protested vehemently their innocence that each of
them had sucked the new slave off and that he had come quickly each time.

'Well, Food, look at him now; he needs your attention again. And Drink, I
think he likes his backside being touched. You saw how I did it.'

Roge had not known what I had said, but just stood there as Food dropped
to his knees and with one gulp took the whole eight inches in his mouth.
Drink was doing a passable imitation on Roge's bum of the technique,
which I just used, one which I had learned some years previously at the
hands of a Finnish masseuse.



On what could not have been more than Food's full third suck, Roge's hand
came down from behind his neck and he shouted, 'Oh fuck! Oh fuck, I'm
coming,' and whatever remaining load had been lurking at the back of his
balls went down Food's throat in three blasts, or so I guessed.

'Master, he was just as quick as that in the showers each time this
morning,' Drink said, poking his head round from behind Roge's backside.

'Yes, Drink, I believe you.'

Roge Harte had a very short trip-switch and I would have to check my
notes as to the best ways to train him so that in time he would be able
to hold it back for at least an hour. There is absolutely no point in
bazookas going off all over the place like firecrackers!

At the moment, Roge looked drained. But I guessed and I think that I was
guessing rightly, within the hour, those balls of his would have produced
another full batch of semen.

Before he left for his medicals, Roge asked something strange.

'You didn't mention, Boss, about last night to Bob and the other guy,
Jess? -- and with a finger he indicated his eyes.

Last evening in the training room, when I had got back to him after an
hour, he had been crying at some stage and I had wiped his face and
snotty nose with a tissue.

'None of their business, Roge. As I said, what happens in the retraining
room stays in the retraining room, even whatever expletives you happened
to call me, which if memory serves included 'bastard' or some such
thing.'

He was looking at the ground, but he then looked at me and said 'Thanks,
Boss.'



I dispatched Roge off with Food and Drink to see the medical doctor and
surgeon, Dr. Fournier -- totally clear check-up, Dr. Cuesta -- perfect
eyesight and Dr. Thorsen -- who scheduled him in for two days afterwards
for a full-day session of capping and evening up this teeth.

Bob took over and walked him round the Lime Palace for the morning until
it got too hot and then handed him over to Rolf, the gym instructor, for
the rest of the day.

Roge Harte's second day of training was a success as far as I was
concerned on three issues. He had put up no resistance to being sucked
off in the open by a slave. He was therefore accepting a change in his
condition, though he might just in his own mind be accepting a blowjob to
release the pent-up semen in his balls.

But secondly and perhaps, of more importance, he was now calling me
'Boss' voluntarily.

However, he had revealed a flaw in his perfect alpha male psyche. He did
not like to be humiliated in public or have his maleness, his cocky macho
personality, demeaned or belittled. It was a flaw in my uncut and rough
diamond, which would allow me make the proper facet cuts in due course as
I went about perfecting my already gorgeous hunk of manhood in the
following days and weeks.

End of chapter 3