Date: Thu, 31 Aug 2006 17:02:06 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Time Line - Chapter 20 - Gay - Authoritarian [Dahran series]

The Time Line by Gerry Taylor
This is the twentieth chapter [ex twenty two] of a novel about gay sex
and present-day slavery.
Keywords: authority, control, gay, loyalty, slavery, punishment,
retraining, sex, submission
If you are underage to read this kind of material or if it is unlawful
for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage
now.
=============
The Prison Doctor and The Changed Life [the first novel of this series]
are now available as full novels in Adobe Acrobat format on
http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/
===========
  Chapter 20--Positivism

  My son Richard's arrival in Dahra occurred with less upset than I had
imagined. He was due to take up his new position in the first week of
September but due to some executive not being back from holidays at the
Central Bank of Dahra, this was delayed until the last week. That had
suited Jack and Fiona fine as well, as it gave them also time to
introduce him to Dahran life in a less hectic manner. I also made it a
point to drop by the Wisteria Palace in the evening of every day that I
was up at the bank.
  There were small matters where I saved my son some money. I instructed
that a bulk liquid container deliver five thousand gallons of water every
morning to the Wisteria Palace. It cost me nothing but the diesel to have
it delivered, as the three bulk containers were effectively idle now that
they did not have to deliver daily water to the opal mine.
  The purpose of the slaves at Richard's home was their unconditional
service to him. Angus commented on Aziz's first visit and how he had put
the fear of the scimitar of Dahra into the slaves, informing them of the
honour they had in serving my son.

  Towards the end of September I gave a farewell dinner at the Lemon
Palace for Jack and Fiona as they got ready to depart for Rio via London.
It was a happy evening and I thought that my son, Richard looked happiest
among all my guests.

  The Wisteria Palace itself is small and if the truth be told it is a
bijou of a home. Fiona had left her mark on it. It was unusual in that
the nineteen slaves lived in three of its bedrooms inside the house. Jack
and Fiona had told Richard that and that he might prefer to have them in
quarters outside his home.
  When Angus mentioned the matter to me as we waited one evening for
Richard to arrive back from shopping, he said very quietly, `Master
Richard spoke to me about that, Sir Jonathan.'
  `What did he say?'
  `He asked my opinion,' and the slave let his words hang, because he
knew that a Master ordered and did not ask opinions.
  `The young Master is just like that,' I replied. `And what did you
say?'
  `I said, Sir Jonathan, whatever the Master wished would be done, but
that sleeping under the same roof as the Master was a singular honour of
a thoughtful Master^Å.'
  I smiled at the flattery which had been showered on my son, and Angus
continued saying, `^Åand the Master said that we should continue
sleeping six to a room in the large bedrooms on the third floor and each
of the two supervisors have their own smaller room on the third floor as
well to share with their buddy. The young Master is most generous, Sir
Jonathan.'
  `I can see that, Angus. What does that leave? Three bedrooms for
guests?'
  `Yes, Master.'
  `Who has the Master punished so far?'
  A shocked Head of Household replied, and I could hear the apprehension
in his voice, `Oh, no one, Master. Everyone is really trying to make the
young Master feel at home and get him fully settled in.'
  `And if you had to punish the worst performing of the slaves, which
would you punish?'
  I could see Angus was nervous and replied slowly, `Perhaps, Master, I
would punish Fergal for getting up last each morning. But he works very
hard after that.'
  `Have Fergal be ready for punishment as soon as Master Richard
arrives.'
  `Yes, Sir Jonathan.'
  As we were speaking, a Lincoln Continental swept into the drive of the
Wisteria Palace and pulled up behind the Rolls. Craig, who had been Jack
and Fiona's former driver, leapt out and opened the back passenger door
for an amused Richard.
  On seeing me, he ran up the steps of the veranda and gave me a hug.
  `Dad, I am still not accustomed at being chauffeured around, and Craig
insists that I sit in the car until he opens the door for me. This car is
very, very stylish.'
  I could see that he was bubbling with the enjoyment of so many new
things in his life.
  `I am delighted to see you here, Dad. Will you stay for tea?'
  `No, Richard, I just dropped by for the pleasure of seeing you. Are
you getting on okay?'
  `Dad, everyone wants to help. Aziz al-Aziz came by the other day with
bucketfuls of advice. Everyone here was in fear and awe of him. Do you
know that he was once a slave and the Sheik gave him his freedom? And he
was once a slave to the Sheik's aunt or some princess?'
  `Yes, I had heard that. He has had quite an interesting life from the
limited contacts he has had,' I commented.
  We had gone into the main salon of the Wisteria Palace, when Angus
arrived back with a slave in tow whom I recognised as Fergal.
  `Yes, Angus, what is it?'
  `Good evening, Master Richard. This slave has to be punished for being
persistently late in getting up in the mornings.'
  Richard looked at me.
  `It's now your household, Richard. Don't look at me.'
  `What is the punishment at your Palace for such a matter?'
  `Four or five strokes of a camel-cane. It depends how often it
happens.'
  Richard walked over to the slave who was blushing furiously. The Dahran
sun had tanned his fair skin but not such that it could hide a blush.
  `Are you always up late or are you just the last to get up, Fergal?'
  I saw that Richard knew the name of the slave.
  `Both, Master Richard.'
  `Why? Do you work that hard you need more sleep? Harder than any other
here?'
  `No, Master Richard.'
  `Well, why then?'
  The slave was clearly embarrassed, perhaps at the question, perhaps at
me being present as well, perhaps at having to reply truthfully to such a
young Master.
  `My buddy and I don't get to sleep until very late each night. Sorry,
Master,' and as he spoke his penis started to harden at the memory.
  `Let me see if I understand this. Your buddy keeps you awake at
night?'
  `Yes, Master Richard...and I keep him awake as well. We are buddies,
Master,' and the slave blushed furiously again.
  `You mean to say that you spend a long time each night making love to
each other and this leaves you too tired in the morning to get up.'
  As he said this, Richard turned from the slave and faced me his face
contorted in a smile which he was forcing not to turn into a laugh.
  `Yes, Master Richard,' the slave, now at full erection, said to his
back.
  `Angus take this slave out the back and make him ready for punishment.
Have all the slaves present. I shall be out in a second, and tell Narciso
in the kitchen to come here.'
  Angus motioned Fergal towards the kitchens and the back of the house.
  `I'm glad, Richard, that you are able to handle the doling out of
punishment. It makes for respect from a Master who cares for his
household.'
  `Aw, Dad, did you see the slave. He was getting a woodie just talking
about his buddy. I'm not into voyeurism but I think I am going to take a
look in on Fergal and his buddy some evening.'
  `Your choice as Master,' I commented.
  `I hear that a slave is supposed to kiss the camel-cane that beats
him.'
  `That is the Dahran custom.'
  As we were speaking Narciso who is one of the slave chefs came out of
the kitchen and Richard took him by the elbow and led him back to the
kitchen giving him what I understood were dinner instructions, before
coming back to me.
  `Come out, Dad, you had better see my first punishment of one of my
slaves.'
  I was feeling quite proud of my son in being able to so quickly handle
a first situation like this. We walked out the back double doors of the
Palace and all the slaves were lined up and in front of them, Fergal, who
was to be punished.
  `You are being punished before the household because you are the last
up each morning and consistently late. Do you understand?'
  The slave nodded and almost whispered `Yes, Master' in his
embarrassment before the other slaves.
  `Turn round and face the others while you are punished, spread your
feet wide apart, and grasp your ankles.'
  The slave complied and then Richard turned towards the Palace and said
`Narciso' who immediately came out with a large pot in his hands,
followed by the three other indoor slaves, Harb, Beno and Vedel, each of
whom were also carrying a pot.
  I was quite intrigued at what was going on, until Richard took first
pot from Narciso and poured it over the slave Fergal's head and
shoulders. It was a pot of cold water and ice cubes!
  The three other slaves came up and handed their pots to Richard who
poured one over Fergal's back, another over his backside and the last
which he merely tossed in the air and let the water and ice cubes crash
down over the soused slave.
  To give Fergal his due, he did not move except for the jerking of his
body on being drenched in the water.
  `Stand up straight, Fergal. Do you understand what I have done?'
  The slave looked at his Master and said, `Yes, Master. You have
punished me.'
  `Yes and no. I have given you a wake up call. From now on, every time
you are the last to get up in the morning, you will stand here before
breakfast and four pots of water will be poured over you.'
  And looking at the household slaves in their line-up, Richard said,
`Do you also understand? The punishment will fit the offence at the
Wisteria Palace. Do you understand?'
  Several of the slaves were grinning, but all chorused, `Yes, Master'
or `Yes, Master Richard,' and surprisingly all then came forward to
kiss his hand, until the last to do so was the drenched Fergal who was to
my mind confused at the leniency of his punishment and was awaiting some
indication from his Master what he was to do.
  `Have you learned something today, Fergal?'
  `Yes, Master Richard.'
  `And what is that?'
  `Getting up is going to be much easier from now on.'
  `Good. Off you go and we'll talk later.'
  `Yes, Master Richard.'

  Richard walked me around by the side of the Palace and back to the
Rolls. I put my arm over his shoulders and said, `a bit unorthodox, but
I think you will do well in due course. But a word of advice, a
camel-cane is not a fishing rod. Nice wrist work, but you'll have to
develop a proper technique,' I said with a smile. `Remember, Richard,
respect comes many ways. For slaves, respect comes from a little fear,
not from humour; to say nothing of use of a camel-cane. They may have
originally been Scottish, but now they are slaves and there is nothing
that you or I can do about it. You have to accept them as they are, not
as you would or might like them to be.'
  `Dad, to each his own,' Richard said as he embraced me and closed the
door of the Rolls after me.
  Indeed, it takes all sorts to make a world, and Richard, making his own
errors for I could not make them for him, in time, would find his own
feet as a Master in the slavedom of Dahra.
  In one aspect, I am a positivist. I believe that the laws for running
my Palaces derive from my authority and the decisions I have already made
known to my overseers and slaves. The morality of my decisions resides
simply in those matters which are customary to me and not in an objective
morality of dealing with my slaves. My Overseers, and consequently my
slaves, know some of the decisions I communicate to them. The Overseers
apply them logically and the slaves obey them, and I, the Master, am
happy.
  A case in point is the hospital surgery. Randy Tait runs it under the
oversight of the doctors. A young thirty year old former electrician runs
a small hospital which any group of doctors in the developed world would
give their eye teeth for. He chooses the slaves for Dr. Fournier who will
update the good doctor's computer data, assist in daily cleaning of the
surgery and a hundred and one things that make up the daily schedule for
the entire medical team.
  Randy, when he first went to work for Dr. Fournier originally
specialised in a verruca laser removal technique, and then trained
another slave on it, so as to leave himself free from more supervisory
and managerial work. As the slaves go barefoot, such annoying contagious
warts are like seasonal colds. A third slave was engaged part-time by
Randy in tattoo removal; as I allow my slaves no tattoos, not even real
or imitation marine Semper Fi ones remain. That slave has received more
offers of sexual favours not to remove a tattoo than any other slave in
my Palaces.
  Most such displays of my authority are correct and it gives me pleasure
to see the understanding of my commands expanded upon.
  Therefore, it was with no annoyance that I saw that the two Russian
barbers had now a trainee assistant slave who was far faster than either
of the barbers in using the computer to line up the next slaves for the
Palace's styles of haircut.
  I noted from their files that neither of the two barbers, Lev and
Rurik, had buddies other than each other. When I challenged them on this
one day, they said they had each other and, with vigorous hand motions,
they showed me that they jacked each other off every morning and every
night. It pleased me to hear that their sexual tensions were relieved so
regularly, as I believe that this is essential in an all-male environment
where testosterone can be a major source of conflict.
  A Master then has to trust his slaves and particularly his Supervisors
and Overseers that they will do their assigned jobs. It is an unusual
form of trust, and if the slave is given a job in which he can excel,
then one day he has the hope of being the head of a kofila under one of
the Heads of Stables, or having a Palace duty under the Heads of
Household.
  With the increased intake of slaves from the slave markets due to the
expansion of the farmlands, Dr. Hal Thiecke, my original dentist was now
working three days a week with Dr. Cal Thorson. They get on very well
together, and as the dental surgery was really built for only one
dentist, Hal brought his latest mobile surgery with him and merely parked
at the end of the medical facility.
  The new slaves coming into my ownership are generally shocked in a
positive way at getting such dental care within the first days of coming
to my Palaces, or at least, as soon as scheduling allows. They also
receive the most modern eye care that Dr. Nacho Cuesta can provide. He
has become quite a specialist in straightening casts in eyes, to say
nothing of the repair of myopia with the latest ruby laser treatment.
  It pleases me immensely to see healthy slaves in my service and with
regular daily exercise apart from their normal workload, the new slave
soon becomes fitter and the existing slaves become leaner, trimmer and
more beautiful, all of which is aided by a very healthy diet based on
slave biscuits and the vegetables the farms produce.
  Sometimes, my slaves do excel, but this is normally at Overseer level.
Stan Mercer, my head of property, springs to mind. His was the initial
idea for the windmills on the Aloe and Lime Palace grounds. We started
with four windmills, and ended up with twenty, all in a straight line
between the grounds of the Palaces themselves and the Sheik's gift--the
desert lands I had yet to cultivate.
  When I queried Stan on his rationale--had we not got enough energy from
the solar panels covering every roof?--he pointed out the logic of this
renewable free source of power, which if in surplus, I could merely sell
into the national grid. While the sixteen new windmills cost four million
euro, less than the income from a month's water to my neighbours, after
the first month, we saw that they would more than redeem their purchase
in less than four years. And so, we ended up with a line of twenty
elegant white three-bladed windmills which divided the original lands of
the Palaces from the Sheik's gift which ran for seven miles along
parallel to the Western Road and a mile deep into the uncultivated and
parched desert.
  The other Overseer who constantly pleased me was the ungainly Georgi
Gridov who was the slave in charge of the al-Kadir workforce. He had a
symbiotic relationship with my old teacher, Graham Hodson, who now is
accustomed to going down to the al-Kadir property for about two hours in
the early morning to see the progress of the previous day and who would
be like a child at dinner time telling me how well the crops were doing
already, and it was not even near the first official harvest time of the
kiwifruits.
  Georgi was so organised that he approached me one afternoon as I was
out and about in the grounds of the Lemon Palace. There was this hulking
great slave at his side, and it took me a moment to remember who this
slave was. He was taller by at least fifteen inches taller than the short
and gangly Georgi. It was the Romanian over whom Georgi had demurred for
so long at the slave centre before buying him for me.
  `Georgi, how is the al-Kadir project going?'
  `Excellently well, Master. We are almost up to speed with the number
of slaves we now have. Dieter has them well organised into kofilas each
morning, and Master Graham gives me his instructions each day as to what
he wants done. The project is progressing well.'
  Dieter was his assistant and buddy, and I had to smile to myself as
usual, as Georgi tried to pass on praise to others for his successes.
  `I am sure that you have studied each kofila before Dieter organises
them and I would say that you have each new acre laid out for Master
Graham to approve.'
  The flicker of a smile on the Romanian face showed that I had hit the
nail on the head as to the actions of this self-effacing Overseer.
  `And I see you have chosen another tall and powerful slave as your
assistant?'
  `Yes, Master. He carries things for me as Dieter can no longer be with
me at all times,' and with his eyes on me at all times, without looking
back at the slave, he merely put his hand out and the slave put a file in
his extended hand. It was a supervisory symbiosis, if nothing else.
  I looked at the bulk of the Romanian several inches taller than myself
and saw powerful muscles and a chest with two pert brown nipples. I
stroked the right nipple with my thumbnail and watched it rise and
harden--the sign of good health and a healthy skin. The slave had most
certainly been cleaned up since that day in the slave centre and had lost
all his body hair, save for a dark bush of pubic hair, and a short
crew-cut stubble on his head.
  `He serves you well?' I commented more in question than anything else
as I walked round the slave, and stopped on seeing two long red weals on
the slave's backside. `You have punished him today?'
  `Punishment no, Master. This slave needs a firm hand and needs to know
daily who his Overseer is. Each day I give him two strokes of a
camel-cane to remind him. I have told him that if he wishes not to
receive his two strokes then all he has to say is that he no longer
wishes to be my assistant.'
  `You have been giving this slave two strokes of a camel-cane each day
for the past ten months?'
  `Yes, Master. He likes it. He gets a hardon as some slaves do when
they are punished and I then lead him round by his hardon to let the
kofilas know who is the Master's Overseer and who is the Master's
slave. He stays hard for a long time. But so far, he has never asked to
be replaced.'
  `Well done, Georgi, I like an obedient slave. Have you found a buddy
for him?'
  `He serves both Dieter and me every evening, Master. You know how
Dieter likes to be licked on his back passage, and it took a number of
camel-cane strokes to have this slave learn how to do it properly. While
he is licking Dieter, I fuck him and he has learned to like taking it
from me.'
  I looked at the slave and I thought I saw a heightening of colour in
his cheeks. Maybe a slave who liked to be dominated and forced to do what
he would never choose to do on his own.
  `What is your name, slave?'
  `Toma, Master. Toma Rascu.'
  `Serve my Overseer well and never give him cause for complaint. You
like being his assistant?'
  `Yes, Master. It is an honour to serve Overseer Georgi and each
morning he reminds me how lucky I am to be able to serve him and through
him to serve you, Master.'
  `Well now, why Georgi have you come looking for me?'
  `Master, I told you when choosing the slaves at the slave centre that
I was only choosing the healthy ones for you.'
  `Yes, I remember that you seemed to be sniffing them.'
  `I was reminded of this today, Master, when I saw a slave whom I
thought was not well, and having smelled him, I think he is sick.'
  That I thought was an extraordinary statement. Humans can have great
eyesight or hearing. Why can Georgi not have a great sense of smell, and
more so at my Palaces in Dahra where the air is fresh and they are
working outdoors all the time?
  `See that the slave goes to see Dr. Miraldo.'
  `Yes, Master.'
  `Are there others who are sick?'
  `Some, Master, not many.'
  `Georgi, take some days off from the al-Kadir project. Get a list of
all the slaves from Jens in the computer office. I want you to check each
slave, Overseers and Supervisors as well, and send any slave whom you
think is sick to Dr. Miraldo. I will have a word with him right away.'
  `Yes, Master, immediately.'
  I looked at the two departing slaves, one with my full trust and
confidence, the other with two stripes across his backside who had found
a new task in life.
  I appraised Dr. Miraldo what would be going on.
  `Jonathan, I have heard of stranger things and more curious abilities
in my time in Brazil. Let's see who arrives as a result of Georgi's
sniffing.'
  A week later, Miraldo told me that he had examined a total of eight
slaves all with a variety of illnesses, the most serious two with bowel
and stomach cancer. I felt that Georgi had a strange gift, one that
science could not yet explain. As long as he did not sniff me out one
day, I would be quite happy.
  One of the advantages of being Master with a lot of slaves is that life
takes on schedule of its own. I refer in particular to schedules to
morning and afternoon work for the slave are structured to tire them out
but not so much that they do not want to exercise in the pool and the gym
for that hour at least each day which they must do to keep fit according
to my instructions.
  There is an artificial fitness which comes from gyms and keep-fit
salons, and there is a real fitness which comes from hard physical work
each day. Both my gym Overseers have a strenuous individual programme for
each slave and supervisor which keeps each in tip-top shape.
  I was in the Lime Palace gym run by Rolf Hanzer looking at a floor
display of gymnastics by the slaves who had been in training with Komil.
I thought they were much more confident and polished than on the previous
occasion. They were coordinated. Their muscles rippled in perfect
movement. All were wearing a blue slip, as I had instructed previously,
which revealed more than it actually concealed of their genitals. At
least, it made them somewhat uniform. The applause I gave them was
genuine and I was pleased.
  I was about to get up from my chair, when Tony Sert, the gym Overseer
at the Lemon Palace where the al-Kadir slaves also exercise, stepped
forward and said, `Master, we have a further display for you from the
al-Kadir slaves.'
  With that two parallel bars and a pommel horse were brought out and the
eight gymnasts whom the al-Qatim computer programme had chosen stepped
forward in light green slips. There was a cheer from the al-Kadir slaves
present and I realised that there was some form of competition existing
between the various properties and their slaves.
  I was struck by how well-looking the eight slaves were. The three who
had looked if not ill, certainly under the weather health-wise when I had
seen them perform at al-Qatim, were now tanned and trim, well-muscled,
and if I say so myself, they actually looked fed. This was the second
time they were to perform for me at the Palaces.
  I had not uttered a word to Tony Sert who had stepped back to the side
of the gymnastics mat. One of the slaves clapped his hands and two
stepped forward, one to each piece of apparatus.
  With slow deliberation and fluidity of motion, each took to the piece
of equipment and carefully went through a three minute or so routine
which showed strength and training, coordination and concentration. The
performance of each was flawless.
  As each came to the end of his routine, a further two slaves came
forward started their routines, while the two who had finished started
some easy floor movements. The two who were up on the apparatuses were
clearly not as experienced as the first two and quickly finished to have
their places taken by a further two, until only two slaves were left to
perform and I recognised Simon Gulka as one of these.
  When it was Simon's turn and that of the other slave, the two actually
ran fast; one, Simon to the pommel horse and the other into a handstand
on the double bars
  For all of three minutes, there was not a sound in the gym as bodies
swung and legs flashed, all the time with a gentle floor display going on
to either side of the apparatuses.
  For me the display ended all too soon, and my applause led that of the
onlookers. I saw several of the gymnasts look to Simon as if to seek his
approval of their routines. He was their leader without the shadow of a
doubt.
  I signalled him over.
  `Take off that green slip,' I ordered. It was wet with perspiration
and the hardness of his cock could be seen through it. I held out my hand
for the slip which the slave had shucked down in a trice.
  I brought the slip to my nose and inhaled the sweat of the gymnast and
walking behind the still sweating slave, I rubbed the slip down his back
wiping more perspiration off him, and when I was facing him, I asked
`You have been training this team?'
  Rolf was immediately at my side.
  `Yes, Master. Simon is training them, just as Komil is the others. He
still does not have a lot of English, but he is very enthusiastic.
  `I can see that,' I said looking down at the slave's erection with
the glans peeking out of its meriah half-circumcision of the foreskin. I
looked into his trusting eyes and taking him by his now engorging penis,
I led him across the gym area to applause and his blushes, and put my arm
around him to show my approval as we exited.
  Simon Gulka blushed his way through sex that was definitely a first for
him and when I rimmed him that night with his muscled legs held tight for
dear life over his head, his knees almost touching his ears, I whispered
to him `Stop?', his `nyet, nyet, Master' was a sufficient
confirmation to me that we would have many more a night of sex at the
Lemon Palace.
  He did not know what to do after I had come inside him, and I led him
into the shower and we showered together. I resolved as he scrubbed my
back that sex technique classes would be high on my agenda for him, even
before gymnastics, as he had one of the tightest anuses I had ever
broken. His tightness confirmed to me at least that gymnasts have that
extra muscle power in their sphincter and rectal muscles.
  One of the delights of keeping an open table is that guests are
frequently overnighting, if not staying for weekends. October saw the
return of Khalila bint Omar for four days, though apart from having the
nightly attention of Vitali Belov or Bryce Sands, she made no demand on
the schedules of the Palace. She was writing some legal opinion for the
Council of State and said she needed peace and quiet. The Palace and its
grounds are unmatchable for that.
  Khalila came down for dinner each evening and regaled the medical
staff, in particular, with stories of her time in Europe. I noticed that
my old teacher Graham Hodson got on particularly well with her.
  My general manager of the Aloe sap business, Gus Jennings--without
either of his wives, Felipe Argüelles who has Dahra's only tennis court
business and an old friend from university, Sir Alan Young were also my
guests, so there was no shortage of repartee and good company. It was
also an excellent opportunity for me to introduce my son Richard to part
of my circle of acquaintances in Dahra.
  What pleased all immensely were the evening performances of Kent Kialka
who asked very humbly my permission to repeat the works of four previous
Saturdays, apart from what he had learned for that weekend.
  When Sabir came back to me with his staffing report on the three
Palaces, I was very pleased. He had used the data given to him and the
ideas I had suggested. He reduced the Household staff in each by a small
number and based on the acreage of each Palace to be tended, he
re-distributed and calculated the number of kofilas for each Stables at
each Palace.
  Sabir surprised me by giving me several scenarios based on the existing
number of slaves in my ownership. As my Palace grounds are essentially
farmlands worked by the manual labour of slaves, the workload is
intensive for each area. Because of the heat and the abundance of water
and fertilisers, one kofila of eight slaves can effectively handle forty
acres. Anything more than that and you see weeds growing or plants
unattended because there are not sufficient daylight hours for the work.
It is not a question of the slaves just planting and moving on. That
happens to a degree, but the slaves are more often than not concerned
with the care of specific areas of land and crops.
  What I feared might happen was, in fact, taking place. Each of the
Palace's stables and lands was being starved of the right number of
slaves for optimal production as their slave resources had been
channelled towards the reclaiming of the al-Kadir lands and the planting
of the kiwifruit for Graham Hodson.
  A further scenario from Sabir was divided into two parts, the first
excluding the Sheik's gift of five thousand acres, the second including
the recovery of this large acreage.
  Even without the al-Kadir property, the Palaces were being
progressively starved of slaves. To set that matter right immediately,
would require the purchase of a further one hundred and twenty five
slaves, and the proper reclaiming of the Sheik's gift, another nine
hundred slaves. This latter suggestion would take some extensive
planning.
  For a fleeting second, but no more, I thought of mechanisation, and
dismissed it out of hand. I love the sight of naked slaves working on my
orders. There is something distinctly unappetising about machinery doing
the same job. I hold nothing against modern inventions, quite the
contrary. There is simply no need to use them when much more pleasant
alternatives to the eye exist.
  Later that week when I told the Overseers, the Heads of Household were
not entirely pleased, but the Heads of Stables delighted that all would
be getting some of the new slaves.
  In one way it was incongruous that Overseers, being slaves, were happy
in seeing other slaves being purchased. The morality of it did not enter
the equation. The practicality of a more structured system and ease of
workload carried the day.
End of Chapter 20
===========
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The Dahran series -- a fictional adventure story about the life and times
of Sir Jonathan Martin -- comprises the following novels to date:
1. The Changed Life
2. The Reluctant Retrainer
3. The Market Offer
4. The Special Memories
5. The Dahran Way
6. The Dahran Rebuttals
7. The Seventh Desert
8. The Dahran Sands
9. The Time Line
These novels are all serialised on Nifty (Gay -- Authoritarian) and on
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