Date: Sun, 03 Aug 2003 14:31:18 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Changed Life - Chapter 14 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the 14th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of
novels of gay sex.

Keywords:
authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training,
and submission

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:
eMail: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com
Web: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Changed Life by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 14 -- Ross Wells - again

I had received and returned the documentation of the
Aloe Palace together with my cheque and a note of thanks
to Abdou al-Akhri. I sent each of the brothers a
personal letter of thanks for their `splendid and
totally unexpected gift' or `gifts' in the case of both
Tariq and Rashid.

Tariq rang me to say he was delighted that we would be
neighbours. In Dahran terms that is eight miles away. I
asked him if Abdou would be offended if I were to offer
to buy Aziz from him to run the household. I could not
quite believe myself when I heard myself saying that.
Here was I an Englishman and an international banker,
talking of buying a slave!

Tariq said `Quite the contrary. You may be helping him
solve a problem. He is going to have two head of
household if Aziz stays with him, and that, believe you
me, is one too many. Let me have a word with Abdou.'

I said that I was going to have to get some more hands
to help run the Aloe Palace. Tariq responded by saying
that he thought he might be able to help me there, not
with the existing slaves at the Aloe Palace, as Abdou
had sold most of them to his brothers, but due to the
fact that an auction was due to be held at al-Mera. He
said that he would have a word with the dealer, and sure
enough two hours later, I had the now familiar tan
folder in my hands.

The terms were simply. Turn up by invitation only. Cash
or bank draft or a combination of the two. Cash could be
euro, US$, gold bullion or the currency of the Sheikdom.

I flipped through the various pages not believing what I
was reading. It was a compilation similar to the file of
each of my slaves and ran to about one hundred and
twenty pages, as there were some 30 slave being sold.
Number 22 stared up at me, and I stared back at Ross
Wells. If I had not recognised his face, I said to
myself, I certainly would have recognised his glorious
arse hole in full quarter page technicolor. I simply
could not believe it.

True to his word as always, Tariq turned up trumps. I
had a call from Abdou and for $37,500 Aziz was mine. The
papers came round the following day.

It was very busy at the Bank as there was a threat about
the US dollar being devalued, although the US always
calls such manoeuvres a `revaluation' as if your were
going to get less dollars for your foreign currency
instead of more.

Tommy Elford rang me to say that one of his contacts at
the central Bank of Japan knew for certain that the
`revaluation' would occur three days hence, as the
Japanese Yen was intimately tied to the dollar and they
had to do a lot of readjusting so that the Yen was not
also targeted as a `revaluing' currency.

I asked him how many Chicken Nuggets was he selling and
he said four on margin. Effectively, he was selling 80
million US$ short, would have to pay 5% up-front or US$4
million by way of surety, and complete the transaction
with 5 days. If all things stayed the same, which they
never did, he would get his US$4 million back exactly.
For every cent the dollar gained, he would lose about
three quarters of a million, for every cent it lost, he
would gain the same amount.

I rang my private Bank in Grand Cayman and committed six
million dollars to selling the dollar short. In fact, I
was selling 120 million dollars I had not got, but hoped
to buy back at a lesser price.

The dollar `revalued' by six cents against all other
major currencies. It strengthened US exports, made
imports dearer and made me seven point two million
dollars, plus my six million back. I had not told anyone
else about this currency deal, as currency
transactions are notoriously fickle and you can do
yourself and your friends a lot of damage.

Some days later - it was the day of the auction - I took
some four drafts from the Bank each made out to `Cash'
for euro 25,000 and some further 25,000 in notes. When I
arrived at the auction rooms, Gustav having driven me
there but not actually wanting to go inside, it was like
drawing up to a large warehouse. There was no name or
logo or identification it. There must have been some
forty limousines or top of the range model cars outside.

Inside, I made myself known to the dealer who bowed and
scraped me into a viewing box. Finger food and drink was
available and being freely served, if I wanted it. I
explained that this was my first auction and was
unfamiliar with the procedures - a small white lie as
Gustav had walked me through them.

I said I wanted `a toy and also someone to work on an
estate which I had purchased.' I also enquired about
ordinary farm workers, nothing specialised.

The dealer was over the moon. He had one or two `toys'
in this very auction and certainly some hard workers.
Perhaps, I would like to inspect them at my pleasure.

As other Arabs were arriving, I told him to go meet his
clients that I would walk down. Four of the slaves were
in cages and looked as if they would bite. The remainder
were standing there hooked up to fixtures on the walls.
Various attendants where there with what looked like
cattle prods of the type that Gus Jennings had produced
in the slave quarters the morning of my inspections. One
attendant had a very visible rifle held at the ready.

I immediately spotted Ross because of his build, which I
knew intimately, and from the tawny colouring of his
hair. He was being probed by two other buyers. So I
started at the far end of the room and worked my way
round. There were six Americans on offer, two
Brazilians, two from Russia and the rest were from 12
European countries, in their majority East European.

I was not looking for any one thing in particular, but
for some reason started counting what I call in my own
mind `an attitude of defiance'. Apart from the four in
the cage, I would have bet a euro to a penny, that
almost half were defiant and almost half resigned to
their fate.

By the time, I got to Ross, he had been examined quite a
lot and particularly to the rear. There was a glaze in
his eyes and he was in the `display' posture which
slaves are supposed to be in at auctions, so he did not
see me until I actually took his jaw in my hand and
brought his eyes in contact with mine.

The shock of recognition was as if I had hit him. He
half stepped back, but I held his jaw and said, `Shussh
now, Ross, shussh' very quietly. I looked him up and
down, jiggled his balls and smacked his butt, smiling to
myself and then to two other Arab buyers standing at my
side. I again smacked his butt, but did not examine him
anally.

The two Arabs saw that I was European, and as I passed
them by, intent on my catalogue, I heard them murmur in
Arabic, `a new buyer....does not know what to check
for...hasn't a clue...'

The auction commenced. I notice that most of the buyers
seemed to be in pairs or groups of three, as if their
common knowledge would determine on a buy.

Auctions of anything, if anything, are most unusual, in
that if the blood rushes to you head, you can end up
owning something that you never wanted at all.

All the first fifteen bids, went for between euro 20 and
euro 35 thousand. I had my eye on a Czech lad who was
number 17. I though that he looked strong and might
prove useful as it said on his profile that he had
worked on a vegetable farm. I entered the bidding which
was slow for him at 15 thousand euro and finally
acquired him at 22 thousand euro. I pursed my lips as if
in satisfaction, and nodded to the Arabs on either side
of me who smiled back.

Lots 18 to 20 went by in fifteen minutes. Lot 21 was
Ross and he was described as a marketing executive and
part time fashion model. The bidding start at euro 15
thousand and quickly climbed to euro 22 thousand and
then seemed to falter. I was looking at Ross out of the
corner of my eye. His were glued on the gallery where I
was sitting, but to the non-observer, he was just on
display and being made circle and turn on the auction
platform. I counter bid 23 thousand. There was a bid of 24.
My counter of 25. Bid 26, 27, 28, I counter bid at 29
thousand euro and the Arabs who had been bidding shook
their heads and Ross was mine. He was quickly shuffled off
stage.

I went down to the dealer and paid him two cash drafts
plus a thousand euro cash and instructed him to have the
two slaves delivered to the Villa that evening. There
would be no extra delivery charge it being in the
capital itself.

I rang Gustav on my mobile phone and had him pick me up
ten minutes later to drive me home, but not before we
had passed through a specialised store which he knew of,
where I acquired five fly whisks two in very plain gold
with a beautiful filigree around knuckle at either end
of the handle and a further three in black polished
onyx.

I also bought a dozen tan leather collars with attached
Velcro strips and clips for hooking up a linking chain
and a half a dozen very flexible canes, which the
assistant told me were very useful `for camels as well,'
and a number of other items which I thought in time
might come in useful.

Just before six o'clock, a large white Transit van drew
up at the gate of the Villa, and was admitted. The Czech
whose name was Jiri Aron and Ross Wells were unhooked
from a ceiling hook, had their arms snapped behind their
neck one at a time and velcroed to a neck collar. Simple
but very effective. I met the delivery man and took
possession of the two and indicated to them to get into
the house. Ross had not said a word, but stiffened
visibly when he saw the naked Yuriy in the hallway.

Once the front door was closed. I went over to Jiri, a
good looking lad about 24, who had goosebumps all over
his arms, thought the house was not cold, and undid the
Velcro straps on his wrists and then unhooked the Velcro
on this collar. He dropped to his knees and put his head
on the marble floor of the hall.

I went over to Ross and did the same. When the collar
was being unhooked, tears started to stream down his
face. I took him in my arms and all I could hear through
his sobs, was `Boss, oh Boss, oh Boss, I though I was
dreaming, I thought I was dreaming, oh Boss...' and he
slumped to the floor as his legs gave out.

Yuriy did not know what to make of it at all. Jiri on
the floor had begun to move away as if he were invading
some private ceremony. I indicated to Yuriy to help me
bring Ross to the downstairs shower and left them under
warm water, indicating to Yuriy that he was to see them
washed, shaved, and cleaned inside and out, as I pointed
to the toilet douche.

It had been a long hot day, and I went to get a longer
and cooler drink.

To be continued...