Date: Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:53:11 +0100 From: Gerry Taylor Subject: The Time Line - Chapter 21 - Gay - Authoritarian - Dahran series The Time Line by Gerry Taylor This is the twenty first 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 21--Empiricism I tried to pass by Richard's home as often as possible. Although he had applied for a job in Dahra without me knowing of it, I felt deep down that he was applying for the job so as to be near me. He was bright and he could have worked anywhere. Yet he chose to work on my doorstep. The Wisteria Palace is much closer to the city than my own home so that Craig, his driver, would drop him at the Central Bank and merely return in the late afternoon to collect him. Richard intimated to me that, any day I was at the Deckams--for I only do a three-day week, he could collect me and we could chat on the way back to the Wisteria, and then my own car could afterwards continue on with me to the Lemon Palace. As the Lincoln, at least in the model that Richard had, does not have a dividing glass from the slave driver, I always preferred to keep any conversation neutral as to topics. While I am sure that Craig is discreet and I have never had any suggestion or intimation that he was not, slaves love tidbits of information and being on the inside track of things, and I was not about to be the source of Wisteria Palace gossip for the benefit of any slave. At least, such is my empirical observation, experience and resolve. What did cause me some amusement was Richard's description of the initial interplay with Beno and Vedel, his two household slaves, who insisted on shaving him and then showering with him each morning. `And at night?' I could not help enquiring. Richard looked at me and laughed. `Have you been talking with them?' `No, but I can guess what will have gone on.' `Dad, the first night they said it was their job to keep me warm and their idea of warm is more than warm. They seemed so upset when I would not let them in the bed and actually hugged each other for comfort as if they had done something wrong. I finally relented and had one sleep on each side of me. There was need of only the lightest sheet, I can tell you.' `Is that all?' `Well, they wanted to do other things, well you know, but I said no.' `I can guess. They wanted to suck you off or have you fuck them both.' `Again, Dad, how would you know that?' `That is what a bed companion slave is trained to do. To look after the Master's every need. I hope, Richard, and please don't take offence at this...I hope that you at least allowed them to suck you off each morning. You are a healthy young man and you need your tensions relieved.' Richard blushed bright red, and I knew his morning tensions were being relieved much in the manner I had said. `Richard, that is their job. Let the slaves do their job. It keeps them happy and it makes you, as Master, happy. What other changes have you made?' `I have told all the slaves to put on shorts when they are inside the Palace and at meal times, they are to wear a white t-shirt. I have noticed that Jess, your slave driver, has a gold necklace and I asked him about it. You apparently give one to every slave after thirty days in your ownership, like those on Beno and Vedel.' `Yes, each slave would receive one, if he had behaved himself and if his training had gone well.' `I'd like to do the same, Dad.' I smiled at him and again noticed that Richard was aping what I did. `Go to the House of Gems, and ask for a Mr. al-Said. He knows the type I get. They'll cost you about a thousand euro a go.' `Dad, money is not the problem. I have so much money in my account I will never be able to spend it. You have been very, very generous and Josh Green has sent me another director's quarterly fee from the Foundation and we have only met twice by videophone.' `A word to the wise. Use what you have to build up your home, your household and your Palace grounds. Keep your slaves busy and if they please you, by all means give them a gold necklace. It will bond them to you more.' The evening of that conversation with Richard, I actually had the owners of the two slaves centres to dinner at the Lemon Palace. It was only the second such time that this has occurred over the years. It gave me the opportunity of telling both Mustafa ben-Mustafa and Ahmed al-Atti of my immediate needs for the complement of a hundred and twenty five slaves to bring up the staffing of the Stables of the three Palaces and that of the al-Kadir property. We were dining alone in the main dining room of the Lemon Palace as I had asked all the medical staff to eat at the Aloe Palace where Aziz al-Aziz said he would act as host. Both my guests looked quite pleased at hearing of my intended purchases. `May I ask you both to assemble a private viewing and all things being equal, I shall buy at least sixty from each of your Houses. As I say, I need one hundred and twenty five.' `One hundred and twenty four,' Ahmed al-Atti commented as he smiled secretively into his fruit juice, sipping it and licking his lips at the taste. I looked at Ahmed and his smile was that of the cat which had found the cream. `Please, Ahmed, do not say that you have brought a slave with you. You know that we have agreed no more slave gifts at these dinners. You know that.' `Ah, Sir Jonathan, this slave is not a gift. You are going to buy him from me. And not only, will you buy him from me, but I can name any price I like and you would still buy him from me. But I would not do that to you. I am going to sell him to you for exactly twenty six thousand four hundred and sixteen euro.' Both Mustafa ben-Mustafa, my table companion, and I began to laugh at the ludicrous situation that Ahmed was painting. `Ahmed, we did agree--did we not?--no more merchandise at these dinners?' Mustafa commented, `Just as Sir Jonathan said.' `This, Mustafa, will be the exception that proves the rule. Will you take a wager on what I am saying?' Now the Dahrans, no more and certainly no less than other Arabs, love betting and challenging the odds, so every Dahran knows when it is wise to wager and when it is not. Mustafa declined any wager. `Okay, Ahmed, where is this slave that I am going to buy for twenty what thousand?' `He is sitting in the back seat of my Mercedes as we speak. I had him covered with a blanket as we arrived so that no one would see him when the car door was opened. The windows are blacked out so he will sit there now until one of your slaves call him.' I beckoned Sevil, my sommelier, who was the nearest to me, to come over. `Sevil, go and bring in to us the slave who is in the back of Mr. al-Atti's car. It's the Mercedes.' As I waited, Ahmed toyed with me and more so with the morsel of food on the end of his fork as if he were conducting an orchestra. Two minutes later Sevil returned with the mysterious slave and at the moment of his entrance into the dining room, I knew that I would have paid any amount for his purchase not just the mere twenty six thousand something euro Ahmed was asking for him. The naked young man standing in the doorway, with Sevil at his side, needed no introduction to me. I had never met him, but I was as sure as sure could be who he was. His hands were over his privates, an untidy flick of hair hanging over his right eye. His demeanour and his eyes, in particular, said that he was frightened and afraid, nervous and embarrassed all in one at his nakedness before strangers. `Untouched by human hand,' Ahmed commented. `He is as he arrived. Not a single stroke of a camel-cane, Sir Jonathan, and only the GPS bracelet fitted to his ankle.' I got up from the table and walked over to the new arrival, stood two paces from him. He was looking at me intently. `Benji, welcome to my home. Welcome.' At the sound of his name, I thought that the young man, newly enslaved, was going to burst out crying but he just shivered, but not from the temperature of the day nor of the room. He shivered I suspected from the unknown. I stepped closer to him and put my arms around his teenage shoulders and said, `Benji, you have nothing to fear from me. Welcome to your new home.' Turning to Bob Conrad who had arrived, I said, `Bring him upstairs, stay with him. Have the two on duty shower him and have him brought up a tray with something to eat. He is not to be let out of the suite until I call you. Understood?' `Yes, Boss,' Bob replied, and I could see him looking at the new slave and the wheels of his mind in motion as he led the teenage slave upstairs. `Tell Ben to come in here and to bring a chequebook with him,' I said to Sevil. I felt it was the purchase of the year in many ways that I was about to make. I looked at a smiling Ahmed as I sat back down at the table. `I was not expecting that particular arrival for some time, Ahmed. Well done!' `Does anyone want to tell me who he is?' Mustafa enquired. `The last of the Peoples brothers, Mustafa. I have the other five. Now I must ask you a favour, Ahmed.' `Name it, Sir Jonathan.' As Ben, my secretary, came in at that precise moment. I took the chequebook from him and wrote out a cheque for exactly twenty six thousand four hundred and sixteen euro. `Why this price? Is that what you paid for him plus your commission?' `No, Sir Jonathan, I paid nineteen thousand for him. That price is the average price of the five other purchases you made.' `Ah, I understand, a question of averages, Ahmed. As for the next batches,' I said to both my guests as I handed Ahmed his cheque, `you know the types I buy and I shall stick to these.' I handed back the chequebook to Ben and said to him, `Have the Peoples brothers on the veranda in an hour's time.' `Yes, Master,' Ben said and departing closed the dining room door behind him. I waited until he was out of the room. `Now, Ahmed, the favour I want is the following. Do you know of markets for slaves in other countries? I mean, where slaves are used and owned?' `Yes, indeed, Sir Jonathan. While I only deal in the Dahran market, there are at least forty other countries where slaves are owned.' `Do you have contacts there?' `Not in all these countries. In some of them. I don't really understand the question.' `If I asked you to have a slave lifted, could you have him sold in another country, let us say a country not near Dahra.' `Yes, of course,' he replied and I noticed that Mustafa was also nodding, `Burma, for example, uses a lot of slaves in its interior in the wood industry. Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan. There are a number of countries.' `Well, Ahmed, I want the parents of the Peoples brothers lifted and sold to Burma. Burma is far enough away.' Ahmed looked at Mustafa and then back at me. `The parents of the boy I brought you?' `Yes.' `No problem. I shall have it done.' `Let me know the cost.' `There will be no cost. The cost will be taken out of the sale price and I shall let you have the balance. May I point out, Sir Jonathan, from what I have heard, the wood industry in Burma has a very high turnover of slaves. If the two Peoples parents to be lifted are middle aged and not very fit, they will not last a year.' I shrugged my shoulders. `That is not my concern. They have outlived their usefulness, and as for the proceeds of the sale, give it to some charity here in Dahra where the money can do some good.' `Sir Jonathan, consider it done.' After these discussions, the remainder of the dinner was in slide mode as one of my junior executives at the Bank says, the only significant later comment by Mustafa being made against Ahmed for having combined business with pleasure. `Ah, Mustafa, but what pleasure on Sir Jonathan's face. What pleasure!' As I had suspected the dinner concluded almost an hour later. Dahrans do not dine late and rise early before the heat of the day sets in. As I saw both my guests to their cars, I saw the five Peoples brothers standing `at rest' at the end of the veranda. Adieus completed, I indicated, with a wave of my fingers, to the five to come into the Palace after me. The five looked quite worried and I immediate divined the reason. They had seen the two slave dealers depart and must have been wondering about their own futures. Despite never selling my slaves, it is a constant worry with slaves that I one day will. The study is really too small for many to gather, so I walked down to the salon and had the five slaves follow me, and on the way had a quiet word with Sevil, who was still hovering around and who departed with my order. `At rest', I ordered as the last of the five entered the salon. `In a line facing me,' and I stood facing the double doors, which meant that their backs were to the doors. `Do I have any reason to worry about your work? Eh, Matt?' I said to the eldest brother, who hissed back an unvoiced `no, Master.' `Or from the production factory, Elliott?' `No, Master. We are producing more than ever. I hope you are pleased.' `So, what should I be worried about?' There was silence and I put my finger to my lips, as I saw the double doors being opened and Bob Conrad coming in with a groomed Benji Peoples. `My only worry is whether you would recognise Benji if he were here right now. Turn round now.' As the five turned, there was a split second of silence and then a roar as five figures lunged at a very modest slave trying to cover his privates beside Bob who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly having extracted some advance details from Benji as to who he actually was. For a moment, it looked as if Benji was about to turn and run under the onslaught of five naked men rushing towards him, but he stopped in mid-turn and opened his mouth just as Terry was upon him, followed by Luke, Matt, Jake and Elliot. As the commotion of reunion raged, I said to Bob, `bring me a large glass of port and let the Peoples assemble'. `Yes, Boss. Yes, sir.' And I walked out of the salon as the brothers tumbled over each other and the shouts became yells and whoops and cheers. I stood on the veranda sipping the port Bob had brought me. It had been a good day. I had acquired a new slave. A family, albeit now as slaves, had been fully reunited. I felt more than heard a presence behind me and turning I saw the figure of Matt Peoples. He stood facing me for a second and then went on his knees before and his forehead bent forward and touched my lower stomach. He was crying as he gently lowered the zip of my trousers and taking out my cock, he brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Then he put it back inside my clothes and zipped me up again. There were many Peoples brothers, but Matt was the only one to come out to give me the ultimate Dahran acknowledgment of slave ownership and signal of respect to a Master. I brought Matt to his feet and offered him the glass in my hand. He looked at the port and bringing the glass to his lips took no more than a sip, before returning it to me. `Matt, will you be mine?' I whispered to him. `Master, I am your slave. You know that,' he said in the unvoiced mode of speech he has because of his cauterised vocal chords. `Matt, will you be mine. Not as my slave, but as my long-term companion? Will you share your life with me?' Matt Peoples looked at me, and bringing his two hands to either side of my face, he kissed me as one would kiss a child, a bare frottage of lips. `I will,' he whispered. `Will you love me as I love you for all the days of your life?' `I will,' he whispered again. `Until death do us both part?' `I will.' The night was silent. Crickets chirped in palm trees down at the al-Kadir property. But as I stood on the veranda that night with Matt Peoples, I knew that I had bonded with that beautiful and strong slave, who had suffered so much, yet who had never lost hope that great foundation stone of all life even in the deepest dungeons of despair. I closed my eyes and kissed again and again, the lover who would now share his life with me as long-term companion. It has always struck me as one of the most sensitive areas with men--that of their fertility. Every man has to be externally macho or at least appear to be so, suggesting with bravado that he has enough sperm to repopulate the planet. Men, however, do not ask about such microscopic matters and leave it in the hands of Mother Nature for things to be worked out. It therefore struck me as a little odd when upon going upstairs to our restaurant at the Bank that Georgie Deckam quite literally jumped into the lift with me as the doors were about the close. He looked flushed as if he had been running, which I suppose he had in the last few meters to get into the lift with me. `I thought it was you, Sir Jonathan,' was his comment upon coming to an about-face. `Will you join me for coffee, Georgie?' `Yes, indeed, sir.' `How is your wife coming along, Georgie? The news of her pregnancy was simply great.' `Yes, sir. I got an email from Emily Ryan this morning. The doctors did a scan to be sure the baby was fine and he is. It's a boy.' I thought to myself that Charlie Deckam would be over the moon at the news, and the name of the house of Deckham would pass on to another generation. `Are you coming to London for the board meeting?' The lift had stopped and we got out on the restaurant floor. `Do you mean to see my wife as well?' `That might not be entirely inappropriate, Georgie. You are the husband and father of the child after all.' I could see Georgie's mind working. Women do not play a part in his life. No way. Quite definitely not. The question of seeing his wife of convenience was clearly something that he wished to avoid. `Georgie,' I continued, `do what you have to do. But don't be unkind. The lady is guaranteeing the continuation of your family name for another generation. You giving her money and a house is not everything.' `A short visit, perhaps?' `Yes, a short visit, but not too short.' `Agreed, sir.' `Splendid idea. We don't want him skipping the agenda to go and see his daughter-in-law, do we?' I said with a laugh as we went in to have our morning coffee. And laughter indeed there was after the board meeting the following week in London. Charlie Deckham was beside himself with joy and announced to the entire board and senior executives at the board lunch that he was to be a grandfather. I don't know why but my eyes were on John Tunner, the personnel partner, or human resources partner as they now say. His face was smiling. His eyes were not. His hand among others was extended in congratulations to the embarrassed future father. His body language spoke another dialect. I could not figure it out for a while, and then I read jealousy. Little did John Tunner know that he had nothing to be jealous about as to the affections of a nice young lady for his erstwhile bed companion. The second thought which occurred to me was that the unborn child would most likely be born in late January, early February. He would be born under the sign of Aquarius, the bringer of balance, peace and harmony. I wished that for my good friend and chairman, Charlie Deckham. After the board lunch, I went to see Ryan Smith and we went for a stroll in Hyde Park. He was bubbling over with happiness at the way the new firm was going. `Jonathan, you were right, so right, about the cash flow and new clients coming in.' He went on in this vein for about ten minutes and I really did not have the heart to stop him. We halted to look at a nice young man on a polo pony. `Fancy him, Ryan?' `No, Jonathan. Too thin, too young, too not you. You know I like someone to take control of me from time to him. That young man I could put over my knee. No, thank you.' I knew that he would want to come back to the hotel with me. `Ryan, would you be offended if from now on we just enjoyed each other's company. No sex. Having met your wife, I don't want to hurt her or you, for that matter, along the way. It's one thing to have a marvellous affair with a guy and not know his wife, even though you know he is married. For me, it is different when you also know the lady.' `You're annoyed, Jonathan, that I brought Emily to meet you.' `No, Ryan, quite the contrary. I am delighted to have met your Emily. It just puts our relationship on another footing. Friendship and business and the good memories which go with both.' Ryan turned to look again at the young man on the polo pony. `Maybe he has a father or an uncle,' he commented and we both laughed. `How is Chris, the young lad?' `Bold as brass, hale and hearty for the moment. His next heart operation will again be a valve operation and is not due for two years. I cannot ever thank you enough, Jonathan, for your help on that score.' `Just tell him in the fullness of time, Ryan, that when he was sick there was nothing that you would not have done for him and that there was nothing that you did not do for him. He'll never really know just how far you went in your love for him. Will he?' That walk cemented for me a good business relationship and resolved a few potential problems. It was on this trip to London that I met up with Josh Green who was in town for some investment meeting or other. He gave me a four-page report which I liked immensely for its brevity. It showed the healthiest of bank balances for the Buddy Foundation and my own accounts in a portfolio of bonds and investments whose dividends alone could not be spent in a lifetime. `Jonathan, I'm thinking of taking early retirement. I've just celebrated my fifty fifth birthday.' I looked at him without a grey hair on his head. He looked in his mid-forties. `Josh, you will be bored. A mind like yours needs things to do. Why the thought just now?' `A cousin of mine just died in Florida. He was forty five. Granted he was overweight. But it made me realise that I know very little of the world outside of the US and the UK and the Caribbean area. I think I would like to travel.' `Josh, travel away. Cut back on your commitments but keep handling my portfolio and that of the Buddy Foundation.' `Jonathan, I only handle seven clients. You are the second largest. The largest is a corporation which banks in the Grand Cayman. They would not miss me. The smaller guys I can drop as well though some of them have been with me for almost twenty years.' `Josh, stay with me. Drop the others. Let me pay you an exclusivity fee of say ten million dollars and one per cent of the yearly increase in the portfolio.' We were walking on the Thames Embankment and he pointed across to the London Eye. `Nice Ferris wheel. Ten million and two per cent and we have a deal.' `Agreed, on one condition.' `What?' `The first stop on your first holiday retirement travel will be today on that,' and I pointed at the London Eye. We shook hands on the deal. There was a confirming email from Josh Green waiting for me back at the bank in Dahra when I got there of the deal struck as we had walked along the Embankment, with a jpeg of a used ticket for the London eye. I have always found Josh Green to be a very careful guy in the details of any dealings I have ever had with him, and I consider some of the best money I had ever, ever spent those ten million dollars I paid him. End of Chapter 21 =========== Contact: e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories If not on the YahooGroups mailing list, simply send a blank email to Erotic_gay_stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 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 YahooGroups http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories The Time Line by Gerry Taylor This is the twenty first 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 21--Empiricism I tried to pass by Richard's home as often as possible. Although he had applied for a job in Dahra without me knowing of it, I felt deep down that he was applying for the job so as to be near me. He was bright and he could have worked anywhere. Yet he chose to work on my doorstep. The Wisteria Palace is much closer to the city than my own home so that Craig, his driver, would drop him at the Central Bank and merely return in the late afternoon to collect him. Richard intimated to me that, any day I was at the Deckams--for I only do a three-day week, he could collect me and we could chat on the way back to the Wisteria, and then my own car could afterwards continue on with me to the Lemon Palace. As the Lincoln, at least in the model that Richard had, does not have a dividing glass from the slave driver, I always preferred to keep any conversation neutral as to topics. While I am sure that Craig is discreet and I have never had any suggestion or intimation that he was not, slaves love tidbits of information and being on the inside track of things, and I was not about to be the source of Wisteria Palace gossip for the benefit of any slave. At least, such is my empirical observation, experience and resolve. What did cause me some amusement was Richard's description of the initial interplay with Beno and Vedel, his two household slaves, who insisted on shaving him and then showering with him each morning. `And at night?' I could not help enquiring. Richard looked at me and laughed. `Have you been talking with them?' `No, but I can guess what will have gone on.' `Dad, the first night they said it was their job to keep me warm and their idea of warm is more than warm. They seemed so upset when I would not let them in the bed and actually hugged each other for comfort as if they had done something wrong. I finally relented and had one sleep on each side of me. There was need of only the lightest sheet, I can tell you.' `Is that all?' `Well, they wanted to do other things, well you know, but I said no.' `I can guess. They wanted to suck you off or have you fuck them both.' `Again, Dad, how would you know that?' `That is what a bed companion slave is trained to do. To look after the Master's every need. I hope, Richard, and please don't take offence at this...I hope that you at least allowed them to suck you off each morning. You are a healthy young man and you need your tensions relieved.' Richard blushed bright red, and I knew his morning tensions were being relieved much in the manner I had said. `Richard, that is their job. Let the slaves do their job. It keeps them happy and it makes you, as Master, happy. What other changes have you made?' `I have told all the slaves to put on shorts when they are inside the Palace and at meal times, they are to wear a white t-shirt. I have noticed that Jess, your slave driver, has a gold necklace and I asked him about it. You apparently give one to every slave after thirty days in your ownership, like those on Beno and Vedel.' `Yes, each slave would receive one, if he had behaved himself and if his training had gone well.' `I'd like to do the same, Dad.' I smiled at him and again noticed that Richard was aping what I did. `Go to the House of Gems, and ask for a Mr. al-Said. He knows the type I get. They'll cost you about a thousand euro a go.' `Dad, money is not the problem. I have so much money in my account I will never be able to spend it. You have been very, very generous and Josh Green has sent me another director's quarterly fee from the Foundation and we have only met twice by videophone.' `A word to the wise. Use what you have to build up your home, your household and your Palace grounds. Keep your slaves busy and if they please you, by all means give them a gold necklace. It will bond them to you more.' The evening of that conversation with Richard, I actually had the owners of the two slaves centres to dinner at the Lemon Palace. It was only the second such time that this has occurred over the years. It gave me the opportunity of telling both Mustafa ben-Mustafa and Ahmed al-Atti of my immediate needs for the complement of a hundred and twenty five slaves to bring up the staffing of the Stables of the three Palaces and that of the al-Kadir property. We were dining alone in the main dining room of the Lemon Palace as I had asked all the medical staff to eat at the Aloe Palace where Aziz al-Aziz said he would act as host. Both my guests looked quite pleased at hearing of my intended purchases. `May I ask you both to assemble a private viewing and all things being equal, I shall buy at least sixty from each of your Houses. As I say, I need one hundred and twenty five.' `One hundred and twenty four,' Ahmed al-Atti commented as he smiled secretively into his fruit juice, sipping it and licking his lips at the taste. I looked at Ahmed and his smile was that of the cat which had found the cream. `Please, Ahmed, do not say that you have brought a slave with you. You know that we have agreed no more slave gifts at these dinners. You know that.' `Ah, Sir Jonathan, this slave is not a gift. You are going to buy him from me. And not only, will you buy him from me, but I can name any price I like and you would still buy him from me. But I would not do that to you. I am going to sell him to you for exactly twenty six thousand four hundred and sixteen euro.' Both Mustafa ben-Mustafa, my table companion, and I began to laugh at the ludicrous situation that Ahmed was painting. `Ahmed, we did agree--did we not?--no more merchandise at these dinners?' Mustafa commented, `Just as Sir Jonathan said.' `This, Mustafa, will be the exception that proves the rule. Will you take a wager on what I am saying?' Now the Dahrans, no more and certainly no less than other Arabs, love betting and challenging the odds, so every Dahran knows when it is wise to wager and when it is not. Mustafa declined any wager. `Okay, Ahmed, where is this slave that I am going to buy for twenty what thousand?' `He is sitting in the back seat of my Mercedes as we speak. I had him covered with a blanket as we arrived so that no one would see him when the car door was opened. The windows are blacked out so he will sit there now until one of your slaves call him.' I beckoned Sevil, my sommelier, who was the nearest to me, to come over. `Sevil, go and bring in to us the slave who is in the back of Mr. al-Atti's car. It's the Mercedes.' As I waited, Ahmed toyed with me and more so with the morsel of food on the end of his fork as if he were conducting an orchestra. Two minutes later Sevil returned with the mysterious slave and at the moment of his entrance into the dining room, I knew that I would have paid any amount for his purchase not just the mere twenty six thousand something euro Ahmed was asking for him. The naked young man standing in the doorway, with Sevil at his side, needed no introduction to me. I had never met him, but I was as sure as sure could be who he was. His hands were over his privates, an untidy flick of hair hanging over his right eye. His demeanour and his eyes, in particular, said that he was frightened and afraid, nervous and embarrassed all in one at his nakedness before strangers. `Untouched by human hand,' Ahmed commented. `He is as he arrived. Not a single stroke of a camel-cane, Sir Jonathan, and only the GPS bracelet fitted to his ankle.' I got up from the table and walked over to the new arrival, stood two paces from him. He was looking at me intently. `Benji, welcome to my home. Welcome.' At the sound of his name, I thought that the young man, newly enslaved, was going to burst out crying but he just shivered, but not from the temperature of the day nor of the room. He shivered I suspected from the unknown. I stepped closer to him and put my arms around his teenage shoulders and said, `Benji, you have nothing to fear from me. Welcome to your new home.' Turning to Bob Conrad who had arrived, I said, `Bring him upstairs, stay with him. Have the two on duty shower him and have him brought up a tray with something to eat. He is not to be let out of the suite until I call you. Understood?' `Yes, Boss,' Bob replied, and I could see him looking at the new slave and the wheels of his mind in motion as he led the teenage slave upstairs. `Tell Ben to come in here and to bring a chequebook with him,' I said to Sevil. I felt it was the purchase of the year in many ways that I was about to make. I looked at a smiling Ahmed as I sat back down at the table. `I was not expecting that particular arrival for some time, Ahmed. Well done!' `Does anyone want to tell me who he is?' Mustafa enquired. `The last of the Peoples brothers, Mustafa. I have the other five. Now I must ask you a favour, Ahmed.' `Name it, Sir Jonathan.' As Ben, my secretary, came in at that precise moment. I took the chequebook from him and wrote out a cheque for exactly twenty six thousand four hundred and sixteen euro. `Why this price? Is that what you paid for him plus your commission?' `No, Sir Jonathan, I paid nineteen thousand for him. That price is the average price of the five other purchases you made.' `Ah, I understand, a question of averages, Ahmed. As for the next batches,' I said to both my guests as I handed Ahmed his cheque, `you know the types I buy and I shall stick to these.' I handed back the chequebook to Ben and said to him, `Have the Peoples brothers on the veranda in an hour's time.' `Yes, Master,' Ben said and departing closed the dining room door behind him. I waited until he was out of the room. `Now, Ahmed, the favour I want is the following. Do you know of markets for slaves in other countries? I mean, where slaves are used and owned?' `Yes, indeed, Sir Jonathan. While I only deal in the Dahran market, there are at least forty other countries where slaves are owned.' `Do you have contacts there?' `Not in all these countries. In some of them. I don't really understand the question.' `If I asked you to have a slave lifted, could you have him sold in another country, let us say a country not near Dahra.' `Yes, of course,' he replied and I noticed that Mustafa was also nodding, `Burma, for example, uses a lot of slaves in its interior in the wood industry. Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan. There are a number of countries.' `Well, Ahmed, I want the parents of the Peoples brothers lifted and sold to Burma. Burma is far enough away.' Ahmed looked at Mustafa and then back at me. `The parents of the boy I brought you?' `Yes.' `No problem. I shall have it done.' `Let me know the cost.' `There will be no cost. The cost will be taken out of the sale price and I shall let you have the balance. May I point out, Sir Jonathan, from what I have heard, the wood industry in Burma has a very high turnover of slaves. If the two Peoples parents to be lifted are middle aged and not very fit, they will not last a year.' I shrugged my shoulders. `That is not my concern. They have outlived their usefulness, and as for the proceeds of the sale, give it to some charity here in Dahra where the money can do some good.' `Sir Jonathan, consider it done.' After these discussions, the remainder of the dinner was in slide mode as one of my junior executives at the Bank says, the only significant later comment by Mustafa being made against Ahmed for having combined business with pleasure. `Ah, Mustafa, but what pleasure on Sir Jonathan's face. What pleasure!' As I had suspected the dinner concluded almost an hour later. Dahrans do not dine late and rise early before the heat of the day sets in. As I saw both my guests to their cars, I saw the five Peoples brothers standing `at rest' at the end of the veranda. Adieus completed, I indicated, with a wave of my fingers, to the five to come into the Palace after me. The five looked quite worried and I immediate divined the reason. They had seen the two slave dealers depart and must have been wondering about their own futures. Despite never selling my slaves, it is a constant worry with slaves that I one day will. The study is really too small for many to gather, so I walked down to the salon and had the five slaves follow me, and on the way had a quiet word with Sevil, who was still hovering around and who departed with my order. `At rest', I ordered as the last of the five entered the salon. `In a line facing me,' and I stood facing the double doors, which meant that their backs were to the doors. `Do I have any reason to worry about your work? Eh, Matt?' I said to the eldest brother, who hissed back an unvoiced `no, Master.' `Or from the production factory, Elliott?' `No, Master. We are producing more than ever. I hope you are pleased.' `So, what should I be worried about?' There was silence and I put my finger to my lips, as I saw the double doors being opened and Bob Conrad coming in with a groomed Benji Peoples. `My only worry is whether you would recognise Benji if he were here right now. Turn round now.' As the five turned, there was a split second of silence and then a roar as five figures lunged at a very modest slave trying to cover his privates beside Bob who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly having extracted some advance details from Benji as to who he actually was. For a moment, it looked as if Benji was about to turn and run under the onslaught of five naked men rushing towards him, but he stopped in mid-turn and opened his mouth just as Terry was upon him, followed by Luke, Matt, Jake and Elliot. As the commotion of reunion raged, I said to Bob, `bring me a large glass of port and let the Peoples assemble'. `Yes, Boss. Yes, sir.' And I walked out of the salon as the brothers tumbled over each other and the shouts became yells and whoops and cheers. I stood on the veranda sipping the port Bob had brought me. It had been a good day. I had acquired a new slave. A family, albeit now as slaves, had been fully reunited. I felt more than heard a presence behind me and turning I saw the figure of Matt Peoples. He stood facing me for a second and then went on his knees before and his forehead bent forward and touched my lower stomach. He was crying as he gently lowered the zip of my trousers and taking out my cock, he brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Then he put it back inside my clothes and zipped me up again. There were many Peoples brothers, but Matt was the only one to come out to give me the ultimate Dahran acknowledgment of slave ownership and signal of respect to a Master. I brought Matt to his feet and offered him the glass in my hand. He looked at the port and bringing the glass to his lips took no more than a sip, before returning it to me. `Matt, will you be mine?' I whispered to him. `Master, I am your slave. You know that,' he said in the unvoiced mode of speech he has because of his cauterised vocal chords. `Matt, will you be mine. Not as my slave, but as my long-term companion? Will you share your life with me?' Matt Peoples looked at me, and bringing his two hands to either side of my face, he kissed me as one would kiss a child, a bare frottage of lips. `I will,' he whispered. `Will you love me as I love you for all the days of your life?' `I will,' he whispered again. `Until death do us both part?' `I will.' The night was silent. Crickets chirped in palm trees down at the al-Kadir property. But as I stood on the veranda that night with Matt Peoples, I knew that I had bonded with that beautiful and strong slave, who had suffered so much, yet who had never lost hope that great foundation stone of all life even in the deepest dungeons of despair. I closed my eyes and kissed again and again, the lover who would now share his life with me as long-term companion. It has always struck me as one of the most sensitive areas with men--that of their fertility. Every man has to be externally macho or at least appear to be so, suggesting with bravado that he has enough sperm to repopulate the planet. Men, however, do not ask about such microscopic matters and leave it in the hands of Mother Nature for things to be worked out. It therefore struck me as a little odd when upon going upstairs to our restaurant at the Bank that Georgie Deckam quite literally jumped into the lift with me as the doors were about the close. He looked flushed as if he had been running, which I suppose he had in the last few meters to get into the lift with me. `I thought it was you, Sir Jonathan,' was his comment upon coming to an about-face. `Will you join me for coffee, Georgie?' `Yes, indeed, sir.' `How is your wife coming along, Georgie? The news of her pregnancy was simply great.' `Yes, sir. I got an email from Emily Ryan this morning. The doctors did a scan to be sure the baby was fine and he is. It's a boy.' I thought to myself that Charlie Deckam would be over the moon at the news, and the name of the house of Deckham would pass on to another generation. `Are you coming to London for the board meeting?' The lift had stopped and we got out on the restaurant floor. `Do you mean to see my wife as well?' `That might not be entirely inappropriate, Georgie. You are the husband and father of the child after all.' I could see Georgie's mind working. Women do not play a part in his life. No way. Quite definitely not. The question of seeing his wife of convenience was clearly something that he wished to avoid. `Georgie,' I continued, `do what you have to do. But don't be unkind. The lady is guaranteeing the continuation of your family name for another generation. You giving her money and a house is not everything.' `A short visit, perhaps?' `Yes, a short visit, but not too short.' `Agreed, sir.' `Splendid idea. We don't want him skipping the agenda to go and see his daughter-in-law, do we?' I said with a laugh as we went in to have our morning coffee. And laughter indeed there was after the board meeting the following week in London. Charlie Deckham was beside himself with joy and announced to the entire board and senior executives at the board lunch that he was to be a grandfather. I don't know why but my eyes were on John Tunner, the personnel partner, or human resources partner as they now say. His face was smiling. His eyes were not. His hand among others was extended in congratulations to the embarrassed future father. His body language spoke another dialect. I could not figure it out for a while, and then I read jealousy. Little did John Tunner know that he had nothing to be jealous about as to the affections of a nice young lady for his erstwhile bed companion. The second thought which occurred to me was that the unborn child would most likely be born in late January, early February. He would be born under the sign of Aquarius, the bringer of balance, peace and harmony. I wished that for my good friend and chairman, Charlie Deckham. After the board lunch, I went to see Ryan Smith and we went for a stroll in Hyde Park. He was bubbling over with happiness at the way the new firm was going. `Jonathan, you were right, so right, about the cash flow and new clients coming in.' He went on in this vein for about ten minutes and I really did not have the heart to stop him. We halted to look at a nice young man on a polo pony. `Fancy him, Ryan?' `No, Jonathan. Too thin, too young, too not you. You know I like someone to take control of me from time to him. That young man I could put over my knee. No, thank you.' I knew that he would want to come back to the hotel with me. `Ryan, would you be offended if from now on we just enjoyed each other's company. No sex. Having met your wife, I don't want to hurt her or you, for that matter, along the way. It's one thing to have a marvellous affair with a guy and not know his wife, even though you know he is married. For me, it is different when you also know the lady.' `You're annoyed, Jonathan, that I brought Emily to meet you.' `No, Ryan, quite the contrary. I am delighted to have met your Emily. It just puts our relationship on another footing. Friendship and business and the good memories which go with both.' Ryan turned to look again at the young man on the polo pony. `Maybe he has a father or an uncle,' he commented and we both laughed. `How is Chris, the young lad?' `Bold as brass, hale and hearty for the moment. His next heart operation will again be a valve operation and is not due for two years. I cannot ever thank you enough, Jonathan, for your help on that score.' `Just tell him in the fullness of time, Ryan, that when he was sick there was nothing that you would not have done for him and that there was nothing that you did not do for him. He'll never really know just how far you went in your love for him. Will he?' That walk cemented for me a good business relationship and resolved a few potential problems. It was on this trip to London that I met up with Josh Green who was in town for some investment meeting or other. He gave me a four-page report which I liked immensely for its brevity. It showed the healthiest of bank balances for the Buddy Foundation and my own accounts in a portfolio of bonds and investments whose dividends alone could not be spent in a lifetime. `Jonathan, I'm thinking of taking early retirement. I've just celebrated my fifty fifth birthday.' I looked at him without a grey hair on his head. He looked in his mid-forties. `Josh, you will be bored. A mind like yours needs things to do. Why the thought just now?' `A cousin of mine just died in Florida. He was forty five. Granted he was overweight. But it made me realise that I know very little of the world outside of the US and the UK and the Caribbean area. I think I would like to travel.' `Josh, travel away. Cut back on your commitments but keep handling my portfolio and that of the Buddy Foundation.' `Jonathan, I only handle seven clients. You are the second largest. The largest is a corporation which banks in the Grand Cayman. They would not miss me. The smaller guys I can drop as well though some of them have been with me for almost twenty years.' `Josh, stay with me. Drop the others. Let me pay you an exclusivity fee of say ten million dollars and one per cent of the yearly increase in the portfolio.' We were walking on the Thames Embankment and he pointed across to the London Eye. `Nice Ferris wheel. Ten million and two per cent and we have a deal.' `Agreed, on one condition.' `What?' `The first stop on your first holiday retirement travel will be today on that,' and I pointed at the London Eye. We shook hands on the deal. There was a confirming email from Josh Green waiting for me back at the bank in Dahra when I got there of the deal struck as we had walked along the Embankment, with a jpeg of a used ticket for the London eye. I have always found Josh Green to be a very careful guy in the details of any dealings I have ever had with him, and I consider some of the best money I had ever, ever spent those ten million dollars I paid him. End of Chapter 21 =========== Contact: e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/ w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories If not on the YahooGroups mailing list, simply send a blank email to Erotic_gay_stories-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 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 YahooGroups http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories