Date: Mon, 28 Jul 2003 22:07:37 +0100 From: Gerry Taylor Subject: The Changed Life - Chapter 8 - Gay - Authoritarian This is the 8th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of novels of gay sex. Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, punishment, re-training, slavery 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 8 -- Histories When I got to my bedroom suite followed prancingly by Food and Drink, the dossiers on the six slaves were already on a side table. I indicated the bathroom to Food and he ran in there. The tinkle of piss soon sounded. Drink helped me undress and then followed me into the shower in the bathroom suite. Food disappeared, I presume, to get my clothes and shoes down for laundry and cleaning. Drink lathered me up and shampooed me down. He was slowly massaging the shampoo into my scalp when Food appeared again and took over the job. Drink was merely standing there, eyes down, and I motioned the toilet to which he ran and pissed and shat. I was beginning to wonder if slaves have to be told to do everything, and what would happen if they were not told to do bodily functions which as you know, frequently, have a mind of their own. However, Drink had been trained well. He took the douche nozzle from the toilet wall, and slipped it into himself. He did this twice until he was satisfied that he was totally clean. Drink knew how to flush the toilet which he did ensuring the water washed every bit of excrement and every drop of piss away, then taking the tube of KY off the shelf came into the shower and took over from Food. Taking a good dollop of it on his first two fingers, Food slipped them into Drink who did not miss a beat as he was by this time wiping my upper body with a cloth. He had merely bent forward a little, and Food had done the rest in totally lubricating Drink's anus. Drink patted me down with a fluffy white towel. When he got to my right wrist, he kept touching it gently and then glancing at me, and then the wrist again. He clearly did not want to harm the previously broken wrist. I made my way out of the bath suite, leaving Food in there to his own self-preparing self-douching devices. I took the dossiers from the side table and lay back on the bed to read them. Drink just stood there. After a minute or so, I indicated my feet and how to massage them. He said, `Yes, Master,' in Arabic which were the first words I had heard him utter. He ran to a dresser across from the bed and taking a small jar of some type of oil, proceeded to massage each of my feet. In some minutes, he was joined, by Food and they shared the job half and half as their was their wont. The dossiers made for interesting reading. Essentially they were four pages per slave. Two were of photographs of the slave, one of the history of the slave as it was known before coming into slavery, and one of what had happened to him since being enslaved. The pure blond guy was Czech, twenty six years old, 76.5 kilos in weight and 5 feet 11 in height. Each box on the page contained another measurement or description, no marks, no tattoos, a mole in the middle of his back the size of a small coin. He was uncut. A quick thought and I flicked through the corresponding box for each of the others. Three cut, three uncut. Interesting. My Czech's name was Radek Pachlik and he had been a draughtsman in Prague. He was straight, having had a girlfriend and daughter by her, but they had not married. He had spent two years' military service in the Czech army in transport, whatever that meant, belonged to a gym, and was an anal virgin. He had been invited to a party by some new friends, been suitably and deliberately pissed out of his mind, and lifted four months previously. His `lifters' had been paid $2,000 cash and had been given the impression that it was his girlfriend's family who wanted to settle a score for him getting their daughter pregnant. The second page, showed that the Dahran dealer had put him into training seven weeks earlier. He had lost six kilos in weight during his training following the rigorous standard exercises and the slave diet (in brackets, four a day). This seemed to be the norm, I though remembering the instructions given to me by Gus Jennings for Yuriy. Radek had not been branded or marked but had been given a SIN (Dahra's Slave Identification Number according to a footnote - Aha! So that is what the initials meant!) on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473114. He had been given shots for nine different diseases, had been seen by the dentist for three fillings and a dental descaling. The attached half page doctor's report had ok ticks in every box, one of while said `Fertile: very'. Further boxes `Flaccid: 8', `Erect: 18' and `Circ. 13'. I was about to think that I had been given a pony, when I saw that the measurements were in centimetres. The `Circ.' box had me thrown for a moment until I realised that it meant his cock was 13 centimetres in girth. Nicely long and nicely thick. Psychologically, obviously for a buyer, the centimetres sounded much better. I thought to myself that there was a lot of psychology and learning about human behaviour to be found in slavery. Further boxes said `Foreskin: u/c', `Anus: virgin', `Status: tight', `Prostate: small'. And that about summed up Radek. His pictures in full colour did him proud. The second guy whose colouring was light to fair was Swiss German, twenty four years old, 72 kilos in weight and 6 feet in height. He had had his appendix out and a small scar remained, no tattoos. He was missing the nail on the big toe of his right foot. He was cut. His name was Rolf Hanzer and had been a ski lift operator in one of the ski resorts. He was presumed straight, no known girlfriends and single. He had given two years military service as a hospital orderly, knew how to ice skate, ski and jogged and was by his own admission an anal virgin. He had gone to Italy on holiday and had simply been lifted out of his pensione just off road going down to the beach in Rimini. His `lifters' had been paid $4,000 cash and had been told that his lover was jealous and wanted him back, before he found an Italian lover. His second page, showed that the same Dahran dealer had put him into training seven weeks earlier. I wondered if they had come in the same consignment. He had lost seven kilos in weight during his initial salve training. The standard exercises and the slave diet (in brackets, four a day), very clearly work. He had not yet been branded or marked but had been given a SIN on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473123. He had been given shots for nine different diseases, had been seen by the dentist but required two fillings and had also received a dental descaling. A note in the box underneath said `Extremely sensitive teeth and terrified of dentist's drill.' Rolf had not been able to hide that weakness which was now noted down to be used against him, should ever the case warrant it. The attached half page doctor's report also had ok ticks in every box, His sex boxes, as I had come to think of them, said, `Fertile: very', `Flaccid: 11', `Erect: 16', `Circ: 18'. Nicely hung, I though. Further boxes said `Foreskin: cut', `Anus: virgin', `Status: very tight', `Prostate: hard nut'. Rolf Hanzer looked sort of lost and frightened in his pictures colour pictures. Without a doubt, the best one was that of his anus, clenched so tight that the hands spreading his cheeks had their fingers digging his the flesh of his buttocks. The third young man was the one with the permanent five o'clock shadow and the darker complexion was Italian, twenty five years old, 82 kilos in weight and 5 feet 11 in height. He too had his appendix removed and a small scar on his lower right belly and he had a tattoo of a small rose just below the bikini line as it is called. His name was Flavio Pinelli and had been a lorry driver in Naples. He had said he was straight, but had been known to go with guys. He was single. He had been in the `mili' for a year, had been assigned to kitchen duty for the most part and had hated of it. He crashed his firm's lorry one day into another car and had injured the woman occupant so that she was in hospital for over three months. The woman's husband has complained to the local head of the Camorra, the Neapolitan Mafia. His `lifters' had been paid $5,000 cash and had been told to hand him over to someone who was going to give him the thrashing of his lifetime for injuring his wife. Of course, it was not the husband, at all, to whom he was handed over. His second page, showed that the one and same Dahran dealer had put him into training five weeks earlier. He had lost six kilos in weight during his initial slave training. His diet was in brackets `three' a day. Was the dealer trying to trim him or get him to lose some fat? He had not been branded or marked but had been given a SIN on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473421. He had been given shots for nine different diseases, had been seen by the dentist, given a filling and a descaling. The attached half page doctor's report also had ok ticks in every box, His sex boxes, as I had come to think of them, said, `Fertile: very, very', `Flaccid: 13.5', `Erect: 21', `Circ: 19'. Very long and thick, I said as I wet my lower lip at the thought of the pleasure that this Italian would bring Further boxes said `Foreskin: u/c', `Anus: used', `Status: not tight', `Prostate: large and soft'. Flavio Pinelli glared at the camera in his photos. There was anger, there was hatred and there was fire in his look. The fourth slave, the one with the pert nipples, was Slav as I had guessed. He was in fact Moldavian, twenty eight years old, 75 kilos in weight and 5 feet 10 in height. He had no marks or scars on his body, apart from two small moles almost in his right armpit. His name was Dumi Bod and had been a general labourer in Chisinau. He had been married with three sons. He had no military service and had been on the Republic's second national soccer team, but had never actually played for the country. His `lifters' had been paid $1,500 cash and had merely found him in the bus station waiting for a bus home. They had put a Rhohypnol -- the date rape drug -- into his beer when he was not looking and pretended that he was not well when they brought him out to the waiting van. These `lifters' were some of the dealer's most regular supplier from all over the Danube basin. His second page, showed that the Dahran dealer had put him into training six weeks earlier. He had lost eight kilos in weight during his initial slave training. His diet was in brackets `three' a day. He had not been branded or marked but had been given a SIN on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473372. He had been given shots for nine different diseases, had been seen by the dentist, given four fillings, an extraction of a rotten tooth which he had not had money to have attended to previously and a descaling. The attached half page doctor's report also had ok ticks in every box, His sex boxes, as I had come to think of them, said, `Fertile: very', `Flaccid: 15', `Erect: 17', `Circ: 24'. Extremely thick when both flaccid and erect. Further boxes said `Foreskin: cut', `Anus: virgin', `Status: tight', `Prostate: walnut hard'. Dumi Bod was the guy with the very small teat-like nipples. His photos showed again a spark of defiance, but there was a shadow of resignation in the eyes. The fifth slave was Russian and his name was Vitali Belov. He was twenty three years old, 70 kilos in weight and also 6 feet in height. He had an appendix scar and he had a tattoo of a black wavy line all round his upper left biceps. His occupation was listed as factory worker in Belgorod. He was straight and single, but had a girl pregnant at the time of his lifting. His `lifters' had been paid $2,000 cash merely to get him to assigned spot and he had been manhandled into a waiting lorry His second page, showed that the Dahran dealer had put him into training five weeks earlier. He had lost four kilos in weight during his initial slave training. His diet was in brackets `four' a day. Here the dealer seemed to trying to put weight on him. He had not been branded or marked but had been given a SIN on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473428. He had been given shots again for the nine different diseases which might have arisen in Dahra, had been seen by the dentist, given two fillings and a descaling. The attached half page doctor's report also had ok ticks in every box, His sex boxes, as I had come to think of them, said, `Fertile: very, very', `Flaccid: 10', `Erect: 21', `Circ: 21'. Very long and extremely thick, but most interestingly of all he was the one whose cock was almost perpendicular when stroked, and whose nipples were ultra sensitive. Further boxes said `Foreskin: u/c', `Anus: virgin', `Status: drum tight', `Prostate: medium sized nut'. In Vitali's eyes, there was the resignation of acceptance, with a small touch of defiance. The last dossier was that of the college type jock, who was a Canadian, Bob Conrad, twenty years old, 90 kilos in weight and 6 feet 4 in height. He was cut very neatly. He was a college student doing his second year of engineering, straight, a college girlfriend in his first year at university and single. He had played lacrosse, ice hockey and football and was by his own admission an anal virgin with the word `Definitely' beside the last statement. He had been hitch hiking on back roads in France during terms, had accepted a ride and had been taken for one which had `lifted' him to Dahra. The price of the lift to him had been nothing. To those who had ordered his type, it was $4,000. His second page, showed that the Dahran dealer had put him into training seven weeks earlier. Again, I wondered if they had come in the same consignment. He had lost just seven kilos in weight during his initial salve training. The standard exercises and the slave diet (in brackets, four a day), had also very clearly worked on him. He had not been branded or marked but had been given a SIN on the sole of his right foot. The SIN number was 473129. He had been given shots for nine different diseases, had been seen by the dentist but required no fillings and no descaling. His teeth were perfect. The attached half page doctor's report also had ok ticks in every box, His sex boxes said, `Fertile: infertile' (this was circled), `Flaccid: 9', `Erect: 15', `Circ: 15'. Not bad, but not great Further boxes said `Foreskin: cut', `Anus: virgin', `Status: extremely tight', `Prostate: hard nut'. The half glance that I had had of him an hour previously, showed that Bob Conrad was a frightened young man. The side view of his body showed up his superb gluteal muscles which gave his behind the bubble butt format so loved by Americans. Enough of facts and figures, I thought. 6 slaves had been lifted for a total of $18,500, a little over three thousand dollars a head such were the value places on human bodies and human lives. I had not time to read the dossier on each of them about their slave training since arrival, but that could wait another day. Food and Drink saw me putting down the last file. Food took them off the bed by scooping his hands under the lot and balancing them on his arms over to the side table. With one bounce, he was back on the bed. Their joint massage of my feet and lower legs for the previous three quarters of an hour had produced a sizeable erectile response. I pulled down a pillow and patted it in place. Not indicating which of the two I wanted first. I glanced at both of them. I glanced away. I patted the pillow again. Drink who was nearest to it, dived on it with a squeal of delight and put his ass up in the air, his knees splayed almost three feet apart. As I positioned myself for some renewed anal activity on his butt hole, I brought Food over and showed him how to tweak both of Drink's nipples. My entry was slow and easy. Drink was fully lubed and delightfully warm all up past his sphinctered entrance. I knew where to look and thrust and soon was touching his prostate both on thrust and withdrawal. His whispers of `Master, Master, Master,' each time were driving me fast towards the edge, but I kept my head. I was actually riding Drink a lot harder and with a lot greater force that I would ride a lover, but he apparently did not mind or notice, and was a clearly well trained catamite, a worthy successor to the mythological Ganymede, cupbearer to the gods of Olympus. Within two minutes, Drink had exploded with a force that might have suggested he had not come, - which I doubted -- since last we had played our sexual romps. Food took his place and I had Drink feel up `Food's' nipples as had been done to him. Food did not last more than a minute and a half before the bed was rocked with equally forceful, if not more, ejaculations. After Food had come, they both saw that I had not come at all and they became very seriously concerned. In their long sexual experience with Masters, Master clearly came first, and the slave was irrelevant after that. It did not happen the other way round. They were unprepared and confused. Drink, who was more rested, tentatively reached out to take my still engorged and glistening penis in his hand and went to put it in his mouth, all the time half fearfully looking at me. However, I motioned him to sit down on my hard and upright member and to lower himself on it. When he was in position, a knee on either side of my hips, and the warmth of his anus was felt all up my cock, with my hand I made a clenching sign. He got the message. I clenched my hand again and again a third time. The muscles of his sphincter did likewise. I motioned him to rise up and just when I might have popped out of him, I instructed him to lower himself again. He was a fast learner and did this for all of fifteen minutes, gently rising, falling, clenching three times, rising, falling. Food was kneeling to one side, not doing a thing, but waiting for any instruction of mine. After fifteen minutes of Drink's fast learned skills, I motioned him off and had Food now start a similar ride on my erect cock. Drink stayed at his side and when Food had lowered himself down on me for the first time, Drink brought his fist up before Food's eyes and clenched it three times. Talk about the pupil becoming a teacher! Food was in heaven. After some ten minutes, I knew that I was going to come and putting my hands behind my head waited for the imminent ejaculation. Food clenched as never before. My balls were tightening and beginning to spasm warning of an ejaculation, and I could not longer hold back and shot four or five loads into Drink. I went back into the shower and I was quickly washed down by Food. When I got back out to the bed, I was surprised to see that Drink had freshly made it up and was just rearranging the pillows. I smacked him hard on the bottom and with my thumb indicated the shower. Getting into bed, I had Food spoon up in front of me. Five minutes later Drink was spooned behind. It appeared to be just a fleeting second, but I blinked my eyes open and it was morning. The shower was running and Drink under it. Food had started to play with my cock. I gently slapped his hand away and got up to be shaved and to dress. Whether it was the exercise of the previous night, or the excitement of being given six slaves, or the climate itself of Dahra which is so dry it lets you sleep on the top of bedclothes, I felt thoroughly refreshed. Looking at my watch it was just 6.20. As Food slipped my shoes on, the door of the bedroom suite opened and breakfast was being served. How they knew I was up early was a mystery, but clearly a Palace runs not only with servants and in this case slaves, it runs on reactions to every strange noise such as the rising and shower of an early morning guest. London hotels could learn a lot from that. To be continued...