Date: Sat, 15 May 2004 22:47:46 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Dahran Rebuttals - Chapter 10 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the tenth chapter ex twenty two of a novel about present
day slavery and gay sex.

The Dahran trilogies are composed to date of 6 novels:

Trilogy one:

The Changed Life

The Reluctant Retrainer

The Market Offer

Trilogy two:

The Special Memories

The Dahran Way

The Dahran Rebuttals (this novel)

Keywords:

authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, retraining, submission,
gay, sex

This story is entirely a work of fiction and all rights to it and its
characters are copyright, and private to and reserved by the author. No
reproduction by anyone for any reason whatsoever is permitted.

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if it is unlawful
for you to read such material where you live, please leave this webpage
now.

Contact points:

e: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com

w: http://www.geocities.com/gerrytaylor_78/

w: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/erotic_gay_stories

Yahoo! Messenger : gerrytaylor_78

Chapter 10--The assumption of wrong

There are those who worry an inordinate amount and there are those who
take life in their stride. I think Jack, my nephew, and Fiona, his wife,
fall into this latter category.

They and baby Jason transferred to Gustav Ahlson's old home and renamed
it the Wisteria Palace. Their four slaves Beno and Vedel, Harb and
Narciso moved with them along with the, now fourteen, Scottish slaves who
henceforth would look after the gardens and vegetable plots of the new
abode. The fifteenth or rather the first Scottish slave, Andy, had
finally got permission from Gustav and all the Swedes for Thor to go and
live with him. The Swedes being the ultimate word in democrats took a
vote on it which Bob Conrad classified as `neat'.

At the Wisteria Palace, there was more than enough space for all of them,
as the Scottish slaves and others doubled in the bedrooms of one wing and
Jack, Fiona and the baby lived in the other.

It was a good move, as it separated the family from the venue of the
baby's kidnapping and its reminders and memories. It was closer to the
capital city. The only drawback was that Fiona was going to have to find
herself a new driver, as I would not part with Jess Tollman for love or
money.

I transferred six million euro to Jack's account and from that he paid
Gustav five for the residence. It gave both Jack and Fiona funds to play
around with, because the couple really had no furniture in the place,
once Gustav moved his own out. I also thought with a smile on my lips
that it would keep the interior designer in Fiona busy for a while to
come.

Gustav Ahlson's transfer to the Aloe Palace went without a hitch. One
day he was not there. The next day he was. The day after, he gave the
impression that he had been there for a lifetime.

`What leasing arrangement for the Palace do you want to put in place,
Jonathan,' he had asked me.

We talked it over and I said I would get back to him, because, in my
mind, there was the problem of a promise, more than a promise
actually--part of a purchase agreement--that I had made with Abdou
al-Akhri from whom I had purchased the Aloe Palace. I had said to Abdou
that, I would sell the Palace back to him for the same price, were I ever
to leave Dahra.

I tried to get Abdou in Geneva where he was normally based but a
preparatory meeting of Government financial advisors for the Davos
conference was on and he was not available for two days.

When he rang, he was ringing from his plane en route back to Dahra. I
explained my problem to him and asked could I buy out the clause in the
contract which would allow me to sell the property to Gustav Ahlson.

`Jonathan, there is no problem. I shall have my lawyers send you a
codicil to the sale agreement to release you from that restraint. I put
it in just to be on the safe side if Deckams transferred you out of Dahra
after a brief stay. But I get the feeling that you will be around Dahra
for a long, long time.'

`How right you are, Abdou! Dahra is my home in a way I would never have
dreamed of four years ago!'

`You have actually saved me a phone call, Jonathan. You will be getting
an invitation tomorrow to my 50th birthday party next week. And I expect
to see you there!'

My mind went back to that time I had met him and his brothers at
Rashid's, the eldest brother's, 50th party and the horror of seeing a
slave being tortured to `death by thirst in sight of water.'

Two days later at the Bank, I received the Aloe Palace codicil from
Abdou's lawyers. Separately, I had received his invite. I pressed the
intercom and asked Gustav to stop by when he was free. He was having a
rather busy time with some Chilean bonds.

`You were looking for me, Jonathan.'

`Ah, yes, Gustav. The Aloe Palace. It's yours to buy if you want it,
now that you are in the money.'

He had told me that Jack's transfer for the Wisteria Palace was just
sitting in a deposit account.

`I don't think I could afford it, Jonathan, not even with what I so
generously got from Jack and Fiona.'

`The price is a million euro to you, lock, stock and barrel, but not the
farm lands which I need,' I replied.

`Jonathan, it must be now worth eight, ten times that. I could not
accept that price.'

`The price of the Palace is one million, Gustav. The price of friendship
has no figure. I would love to have you as a neighbour for a long time.'

`You're serious?'

`Never more so.'

Gustav Ahlson reached across the desk and in true European fashion
offered me his hand.

Done deal! And so it was.

This purchase price when deducted from his income from the sale of his
home to Fiona and Jack, made Gustav Ahlson a rich man for the first time
in his life. I thought to myself that he would be less prone to follow
the diktat to purchase further slaves even at the request of a benign
government.

There was one difference in Gustav's household unlike mine. He moved all
his twenty plus Swedish compatriots as he called them--Thor's sleeping
arrangements being with Andy McTee now with Jack and Fiona at their
home--into the bedrooms of the Aloe Palace. But then, his slaves are very
much sort of special in the scheme of things and he still had three
bedrooms to spare for guests, if memory serves me well. I thought that
Gustav was going to have to make some long-term arrangement about Thor,
but that was his business.

The slaves at the Lemon Palace still had neither gym nor swimming pool
and being of former criminal underworld and lower working class
backgrounds, they were not interested in tennis, the sporting preserve of
the middle and upper classes.

Komil had mentioned one day that those who had come through training had
asked their assistant overseer to get them a ball. They then had levelled
out a football pitch beside the fifth compound. In the evenings, after
work, they had organised a mini-league of twenty-minute five-a-side
matches. The heat of the day, still blanketing the Dahran evenings,
really did not allow for that much of strenuous exercise.

And strenuous it was! No more serious football was ever played in the
stadia of Europe and Latin America. They had some sort of elimination
process in the mini-league, but some form of in-built re-absorption for
the out-of-the-league teams. It was perpetual motion according to Komil,
but with more enthusiasm. More like a Paganini Moto Perpetuo, I thought.

`Where is the referee?' I asked one evening as I looked on what to me
appeared to be more of a melee than a match and yet, there was real foul
play, quite a lot of grab-ass and even good natured jabbing at certain
slaves' sole swinging ball, with the players instinctively pulling away
at the pretended grab or jab.

The slaves were playing in their bare feet. The ball looked like
something that had been trampled on by an elephant. But that did not stop
either the play or the enthusiasm.

`Find out, Komil, if the slaves want proper soccer balls and if they
want football boots. Say it is your idea. Also ask them about volleyball.
And basketball while you are at it.'

`Yes, Master. My ideas,' he said with a grin. `Perhaps a couple of
goal posts as well.'

`It will take almost another year for the Lemon Palace proper to be
finished and then some more for the pool and gym to be built. Let's keep
them fit with lots of exercise. Speaking of which, you seem to be well
exercised yourself.'

`I actually do an hour's hard training each day in the fourth compound,
Master. No fat here,' he said slapping four perfect abs. `And every
afternoon, I take one of the slaves in the slave quarters before choosing
another for the night. But, Master, I miss looking after you at night. I
really do.'

`By the by, Komil, there are two new American slaves here, James and
Daniel.'

`Yes, Master. I saw them coming in. Two balls each. Food and Drink take
them out for an hour each day for Palace training.'

`Make sure that they are well and truly trained here, Komil, including
as many sessions with that cock of yours as necessary. They have the
potential to be great slaves, but also the potential to be an unmitigated
disaster.'

Komil was grinning.

`Don't worry, Master, I shall give them some very deep and penetrating
personal attention. I am sure that I will get their full attention and
proper obedience to you.'

Days never flow the way you want. There are constant interruptions and we
have to tame them like wild broncos or like wild slaves, otherwise they
will enslave us with their disorganisation. But sometimes, just
sometimes, things gel and all goes well.

I liked the way that David Tuttle was working. He was organised. He was
determined. He had clear sight of what he wanted and how to get it. I was
pleasantly surprised when the junior Mr. Annan of Annan and Annan, the
capital city architects, who, to be fair, had won some prestigious
international prizes, rang me at the Bank to complain about the bold
David, who was `too demanding', `too interfering in the architectural
process' and `too impatient'. Those were his precise words. To my
mind, there were too many too's in the complainant's complaint.

When I got back to the Lime Palace, I invited David Tuttle to dinner that
evening which in fact was a full table and said to him that we would talk
afterwards.

Hal Thiecke, my original dentist, had dropped by unexpectedly. Cal
Thorson, the now regular dentist, was going to be away on one of his
lecture tours--giving some, attending others as a participant and Hal
would substitute for him. Cal Thorson's surgery now looked like
something off the Starship Enterprise, it was so far advanced, and he
kept writing `papers' as he called them.

One of the Spanish tennis-court specialists who had installed the first
courts at the Aloe Palace, Felipe Arguelles, now based in Dahra,
servicing the entire Gulf area, was also a guest at table. Following the
failure of his own marriage, he had bought out his partner Ramon, and he
had decided to live closer to his major clients. He was servicing the
courts at both the Aloe and Lime Places and every so often, he would
check out my naked slaves. It was clear that his earliest inhibitions had
long since disappeared.

I noticed that David Tuttle left the table at dinner-time briefly, but
did not make much of it, thinking that he had excused himself to go to
the bathroom.

After dinner, while the others engaged in conversation, I caught David's
eye and we adjourned to the study, where he had left his plans and notes
on the Lemon Palace.

As we were about to sit down, David asked if he could bring in his two
slaves Jan Korda and Zoran Stepkov. I thought that he wanted them to come
in and pay me obeisance, so I said `yes', whereupon he merely clapped
his hands and the two slaves appeared. They must have been waiting
outside the study door.

Both Jan and Zoran came in carrying a briefcase each and made a full
obeisance to me, knelt in front of me and placed my right foot on the
back of their heads. They then went and knelt at either side of David and
each extracted a number of the files and plans that we were about to work
on.

I looked at David. He was laying out his notes.

`Your slaves help you?'

`Oh yes, Jonathan, both Jan and Zoran are a great help to me.'

`I only meant them to be body slaves. They have no training in building
matters.'

`Body slaves they are morning and night and very good body slaves may I
add,' at which point he scratched both of their heads and was rewarded
with quite a smile from each.

`But during the day, they help me keep track of things and keep on top
of Annan and Annan and the builders.'

`That's one of the things I wanted to mention, David. Annan and Annan
are complaining that you are `too interfering', is what I think the
junior Partner said.'

`Jonathan, the junior Partner is not the one on this project. There are
a couple of junior trainees from their office. And I am on top of those
juniors, because day after day, they are not doing what you are paying
them for. They fail to schedule. They fail to deliver. They fail to
commission work. They fail to let me know how many units of direct labour
are needed each week.'

I noticed how David had referred to my slaves as `units of direct
labour'.

I looked at David Tuttle and my estimation of him went up a notch.

`Make me a list of the last ten items you noticed.'

David nodded to Zoran, who wrote something on a pad.

`You will have the list before breakfast tomorrow, Jonathan.'

`I think, David, you are a bit of a taskmaster.'

`Yes, Jonathan, I suppose I am. But a fair taskmaster.'

`Is he a hard Master,' I said to Jan at his side.

`No, Master, he is not a hard Master to serve.'

`Why is that?'

`Because he writes out a week in advance everything we have to do and we
just do it. It is simple, Master.'

`And you, Zoran? Is Master David a hard man to work for?'

`Yes and no, Master. Yes, because he has so much to do and asks us to do
no less than he does. No, because he works at our side and...'

`And what?'

Zoran was looking at David as if he had gone too far.

`He has never beaten us, Master. Not once, even when we make a
mistake.'

`David, I am surprised at you. A stroke or two of a camel-cane each
week, will get even better results the next week I always think--putting
gas in a slave's tank as we say around here.'

David put out his hand and pulled Zoran's head toward him and kissed the
slave on the forehead.

`What Zoran did not tell you, Jonathan, is that when he or Jan make a
mistake they tell me. They don't hide it. I explain where the problem is
and they don't make the same mistake again. Sure you don't, Jan.'

Jan was kneeling at his side smiling and shaking his head, `No,
Master.'

`So, you see, Jonathan, no need for a camel-cane. But what both really
help me to do is to keep the pressure on the architects' juniors and the
builders.'

`Do you want an extra pair of hands then?'

`There is always work to be done at the Lemon Palace,' he said with a
laugh. `Whenever you have a slave free, I have a job for him.'

The following day I laid into the junior Partner at Annan and Annan, with
my list of ten points and a heart full of righteous anger.

`Mr. Annan, I am not paying your firm over a million euro to have my
palace designed and built by office juniors. Do you want me to move the
project to those young Bahraini architects who won that prize last
month?'

There is nothing quite like facts and emotion all blended into one.
Before the conversation was finished Mr. Annan was again personally
handling the project and his juniors would be suitably rebuked for their
lack of attention.

It was not one slave but two that I was thinking of for David Tuttle. The
two missionaries would be soon coming towards the end of their training
in the compounds and they were too intelligent and too well educated to
be doing farm work on its own, however good the exercise would be for
building up their already trim bodies.

As it turned out James Scott and Daniel Saxon came through the compounds
with flying colours and I sent them to Frank Kovacs and his two
assistants to be given some extra days of sex education. Being devout
members of a church with a very limited perception of human sexuality,
their knowledge of sex was theoretical in the extreme; their practices of
it limited; their enjoyment of it even less. They received more than an
eye-opener with Frank Kovacs' and Vitali Belov's techniques.

Komil Rostov's work at the Lemon Palace left a void in my household at
the Lime Palace. There was no one like him, since Yuriy Obov to organise
my nights. And a Master needs nights, like a flower needs the sun, or a
body its food.

Food and Drink were increasingly engaged in being assistant overseers and
loved every minute of it. But in so doing and being, they had lost that
impishness which was so much theirs; that gaiety and simple-mindedness
which was irrepressible; that dancing of attendance and miming of the
triumphal parade in Aida, when marching in holding my briefcase and
papers aloft, as if crown jewels were being brought back from Abyssinia
in procession. I was losing them as body slaves, as they grew in their
own `careers', so to speak, as assistant overseers.

Alas, nothing stays the same, but the river of life flows on without stop
and as change occurs, we change with it.

It would be a question of how James and Daniel reacted to an exposure to
responsibility and in particular, in meeting my own nightly needs, when
they came through Frank Kovacs' hands and those of his assistants.

There is an assumption that wrong is wrong and can never be put right.
There is also the assumption that something is always wrong, no matter
what the circumstances. Both assumptions are false.

There is nothing in this world that time and effort, or as they used say
in olden times `blood, sweat and tears' cannot achieve. The fatalism
which suggests a thing can never be put right is defeatism. With the
right facts to hand and the right attitude, just like lighting a fire
under Mr. Annan Jr.'s backside, wrongs can be righted.

In the case of an ethical wrong, such as the enslavement of the two
missionaries who should never have been where they were in the first
place and, even less, doing what they were doing, notwithstanding their
admirable beliefs, circumstances dictate that the remedy of the
theoretical wrong, like the flipped coin landing on its other face, is
the practical right.

When the training of the two young former missionaries ended, I had them
brought to the Lime Palace to inspect them.

`You have come through your first thirty days of training at the Lemon
Palace. How did you find them?'

The two missionaries were standing in front of me at `rest'. I had
walked around them. I had felt their shoulders where the muscles had been
strengthened by their overhead bar work. I ran my hand down their backs,
now golden tanned from the hot, Dahran sun. Tan lines had disappeared.
Neither flinched nor moved. Good. Something had been learned.

`It was very tough, Master,' James was the first to reply.

`Only tough?'

`No, Master, more than tough. It was frightening.'

`Why?'

`Because we did not know what was next?'

Aha! The fear of the unknown!

`And you?' I said addressing Daniel. It was he whom I had thought was
always on the verge of tears.

`I've never experienced anything like it, Master.'

`You have learned something?'

`Yes, Master, a great deal.'

`What, for example?'

`That I can make my body do things that I never thought it could. That I
can run faster than I ever thought possible. That...'

`That what? Finish your sentences. Don't leave them hanging in
mid-air.'

`No, Master. That I was able to take those dildos.'

`A new experience?'

`Definitely, Master.'

The other slave was nodding.

`Had you had sex before you came here?'

James blushed and said, `with a girl, yes, Master, three times.'

Daniel was looking at him in surprised confusion.

`And you?'

`No, Master.'

`And how often used you jerk off?'

`Not very often, Master. I was trying to save myself for marriage,'
James said.

I looked at Daniel and now it was his turn to blush.

`Once or twice a week, Master.'

And it was James' moment to look in a learning curve at his comrade in
slavedom.

I was standing in front of both of the slaves and I looked down at their
half-erect cocks. It is the case with a lot of slaves out of the
compounds. They are pumped up. They are exercised. They are healthier
than most previous times in their lives. And a good healthy slave has a
good healthy erection when sex is being discussed.

`Why have you both got two balls? Did I forget to give an instruction
for you both to be half-gelded like the others?'

There was an absolute silence from both slaves. Both were looking at the
ground.

`In this Palace, when a Master speaks to you, you look at the Master.'

`Yes, Master,' both had their eyes focused on me.

I took a set of balls in either hand and raised and lowered them.

`Nice young, heavy balls. A lot of semen in them. Have you been looked
after each morning and evening?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Have you been assigned buddies?'

I knew they had not. I wanted to see their responses.

`No, Master. Not yet,' James answered.

He seemed to be the spokesman for the two.

`And you have finished your training with Frank Kovacs on sex
techniques?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Yes, Master.'

`Which technique did you like best, Daniel?'

Daniel swallowed.

`I liked sucking toes, Master and getting my nipples sucked.'

`And which technique the least?'

He replied immediately.

`Learning how to rim, Master.'

`Do you see anything wrong with rimming?'

`Not now, Master.'

`Have you been able to make James, here, come by just rimming him?'

Both blushed.

`I haven't rimmed James yet, Master.'

Interesting that he said `yet'. He was not excluding the possibility.

`And James, your best liked technique and your worst?'

`I liked learning how to suck nipples, Master and kissing another man, I
liked least of all.'

`But you have learned how to do it properly?'

`Yes, Master.'

`And do you like it or not now?'

`Not as much as the massage techniques.'

Fair enough, I thought. At least, two, straight, jock guys were talking
of sex before each other in a way that two months previously they might
never ever have dreamed of.

`In my Palace, slaves do things with buddies. The first thing tonight
and each night you are going to get acquainted with every square inch of
your buddy's body, how it looks, how it feels, how it tastes, how it
smells--every single square inch of your buddy's body. Do both of you
understand?'

`Yes, Master,' was said and echoed.

`I am also going to assign two jobs to both of you. You are going to be
my body slaves for a number of months, until I see how you work out. Do
you know what a body slave does?'

`No, Master,' both echoed.

`A body slave looks after his Master's every need in the bedroom.'

Daniel's pupils contracted as his eyes opened wide.

`You will learn how to make my bed, lay out my clothes, wash and iron my
clothes, attend me in the shower, keep track of those who will share my
bed at night and when I choose you, you will show me how well you have
learned your sex techniques. Do you understand?'

`Yes, Master.'

`Yes, Master.'

`Secondly, you will assist Master David in the building of the new Lemon
Palace. He has lots of messages to be run and things to be done. You will
assist him when your other work as body slaves is done. Any questions?'

`Where will we sleep, Master?'

`Wherever I tell you.'

There were no more verbal questions, but I could see a hundred unspoken
ones in their eyes.

`Now get my bed ready for the night.'

Once my bed was ready, the two slaves were kneeling on the bed, their
ankles over the side, and knees wide apart with their butts up in the air
showing off the golden tan of a month's training in the Dahran sun. Each
body was totally smooth skinned and the only hair on each body was the
bottom belly trimmed pubes over the base of each cock, the armpits and
their close crew cuts.

I stood between the two slaves who awaited my attention and ran a hand
each over their smooth buttocks, feeling the softness and firmness of
skin which is to be found in the well trained and exercised who are just
out of their teens. Each one's balls were tight up against their
under-bodies and I let my fingers frottage the disappearing wrinkles on
their scrota, as the heat of my hand transferred to their depilated
skins.

Both had a firm ridge of muscle down from their coccyx, down the changing
colour skin, right down to the clenched centre of their most private of
orifices which glinted of oil in the warm light of the evening sun.

I let a finger of either hand circle their tightness until they could
accustom themselves to my touch and little by little, I worked my finger
in into each tightness.

Daniel's was soft and pliant flesh, with his lubricated back passage
entrance and his sphincter muscle acknowledged the presence, no more, of
my finger but it made no autonomic moves to impede its entrance. His
chute was moist and I felt its undamaged walls and its perfect
smoothness. I let Daniel enjoy the feel of my finger as I slipped it
further in and lay it upon his prostate which was smooth and firm and no
larger than a cherry tomato.

`Okay, Daniel?'

`Yes, Master.'

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes slightly glazed and it might have
been my imagination, but I thought that from time to time, he pushed ever
so slightly back against my hand and finger, as it circled one spot and
then another of his prostate. Glancing under him, I noted a long strand
of precum hanging down from the tip of his penis, like a translucent
pendulum of spider-web with the smallest of bobs on the end of it.

James was much tighter in his back passage though it had been
comprehensively trained in the compounds of the Lemon Palace. While
Daniel had pushed back against my first invading finger, James did not.
He did not push away but he did tense.

`I am not hurting you, James, surely.'

`No, Master, it's just that I contract back there a lot when touched.'

`And not even the five centimetre butt-plugs loosened you up.'

`Oh, yes, Master, otherwise your finger would not have gone in so
easily.'

So easily, I thought. Yes, with a bit of a push. However, I continued to
gently let James feel the presence of my finger in his well lubricated
passage, all the time giving Daniel the odd movement of a finger of my
left hand.

Then I was through James' lower rectum and I could feel his prostate.
When I touched it, he jumped on the bed under my caress of this most
sensitive precum-producing gland. I set up a circular motion of my finger
and he gasped. James was not trying to get away from my finger, neither
was he trying to push back against it as Daniel had. His hands were
clasped behind his back as his training would have dictated and were I to
have had a hand free, I would have placed it in his to reassure him of my
attentions, but with a finger of one hand up Daniel and a finger of my
other hand up him, this was not possible.

I pulled my probing, middle finger out of James and introduced both my
index and middle fingers into his tightness. It was like a complete
change of gear. James gasped and it was the equivalent of the difference
between someone shaking your hand and squeezing it firmly. The difference
here was that it was the muscles of his sphincter which were now
straining against my fingers.

My fingers entered firmly. There was no need of them to say hello to the
walls of the rectum. My middle finger, on its first passage, had already
exchanged a passing greeting.

My two fingers touched his prostate at the same time and James jumped on
the bed, but he did not cease to stay in a kneeling position with his
hands now firmly clenched, but not clasping each other, behind his back.

I separated my two fingers within the slave and allowed each finger to
run up and down each side of the well-formed prostate. The touch was
enough to force him out of his silence.

`Master, oh Master...Master...oh Master...'

`Am I hurting you, James?'

`No, Master, no. Nobody has ever done this to me. Oh sweet God, oh
Master, oh Master.'

I could feel the prostate gland swelling under the gentle lateral massage
of my fingers and then James pushed back hard against my fingers and
brought himself over the precipice of no possible sexual return.

Daniel was looking across as his fellow missionary and buddy whose eyes
were closed in sexual delight as he quite literally humped my fingers.

James was insufficiently sexually experienced to be able to hold on to
his semen release which shot out of him like bursts of a machine-gun,
splattering the sheet below, once, twice, thrice, four and five times. It
was a release of semen of which any young man could have been proud.

`When did you last come, James?' I asked him when he had opened his
still unfocused eyes.

`Come, Master? This morning, Master.'

Daniel was looking at his buddy James and at me in quick succession,
visibly not knowing what to do or say. I let James rest and recover his
breath. He was still in position; butt up in the air, hands clasped
behind his back.

I positioned myself behind Daniel and with one fluid and firm motion of
my hips, I let my positioned cock slide into him. It was like slipping
one's hand into a glove, a warm, moist, lubricated, unresisting glove.
With each trust, not so hard as to hurt, nor too easy so as to be
ineffective, I aimed at the prostate which I had been massaging.

It was not long before I felt the rhythm of Daniel's thrusts back
against me, until his sharp coccyx actually started hurting my pubic
bone. My gentle penetrations were obviously having their desired effect,
as he started to gasp and it was as if he wanted to say something but
could not find the exact words and then from the back of his throat,
Daniel started a low moan of pleasure which `aahed' and `oohed' its
way in synchronisation with my thrusts and his backward pushes.

I slipped my hands under his kneeling torso and up to his chest where his
young nipples felt warm to my touch. I took the nub of each between the
nails of each of my thumbs and middle-fingers--quite an achievement for a
lover who is intent on penetrating movements--and nipped both his nipples
a number of times. The moan of pleasure became a shout and Daniel bucked
back against me so hard that I almost lost my balance. He, however, lost
control of his penile restraint and I could feel his entire body
ejaculate its semen onto the to clean sheet below him.

`Master, oh, Master, never...I...felt...'

He was lost for words.

Could I blame him? No! Modesty aside, he was in the hands and sexual
control of a Master in every sense of the word.

I was still hard, so I turned my attention to James who was still in
submissive position on his knees, his head and shoulders pressed down on
the bed. I slipped into him and set up a firm motion of full penetration
and pulling out almost to the exit of his sphincter muscle. It does
require some expertise, which, modesty aside, I do possess as a Master,
because of my frequent practice. But soon his anal passage was no longer
closing at its exit but waiting for my next penetration.

Unlike Daniel, James was now fully engaged in humping my cock, in
pressing back against me when I entered him, in clasping my penis with
his anal muscles as I withdrew each time, just as he would have been
taught in the sex techniques classes. It was a case of aeon-old and
millennial sexuality taking over and overcoming the reticence and reserve
of more modern times.

With one final deeply penetrating thrust of mine which bounced off his
prostate, James let out a cry of pure animal pleasure, as he shot his
load of semen and seminal juices and shuddered his way to a climax the
likes of which I am sure he had never felt before. This, despite his
release some twenty minutes previously. I was convinced of this, when he
collapsed on the bed like a deflated balloon. So much for looking to the
needs of one's Master, but then in fairness, James Scott was a new slave
who clearly needed that extra bit of training that a only Master, such as
myself can supply.

James' series of ejaculations was sufficient for me to climax and I shot
deeply and happily into his inner bowels.

I lay down on the bed and took Daniel's head in the crook of my arm and
indicated to James to get his act together and to lie in the crook of my
other arm.

`Thoughts, Daniel?'

`Sorry, Master, I don't understand?'

`What are you thinking?'

`I don't know what to think, Master. Nothing like that has ever, ever
happened to me before. I have never come like that before' and for some
reason he was looking over at James.

`James?'

`Master, I am totally confused. I am not gay, but what you did made me
feel more alive than I have ever felt before in my entire life.'

`James, being gay is a sexual orientation. Having sex with another
person, male or female, is an act of human sexuality. If one gay person
has sex with another gay person, that is gay sex. The same with
straights, that is straight sex. But what you and I have just had now, is
simply human sex, pure, but never simple. And please, do not say it is
going to make you gay.'

`It's not, Master?'

Was he sighing with relief I thought to myself.

`What do you think, Daniel?'

`I don't know, Master.'

`Well, do you think Daniel your sexual orientation is straight, gay,
bisexual or non-existent?'

`Honestly, Master?'

`Quite honestly, Daniel, in your own time.'

`I think I am straight, Master, but at the same time I love what you did
to me and what I was able to do with you. Nothing like this has ever
happened to me before not even in the compounds.'

`James?'

`Same here, Master. I think of myself as straight, but...'

`But what? Speak in full sentences!'

`Yes, Master, but I hope that whatever happened tonight will happen
again. Even though you made me come and came inside me, I have never,
ever felt more like a man than I do tonight.'

As he said this, James was looking somewhere at the middle of my bare
chest as far as I could make out. I disentangled my arms and put a finger
under his chin, until he was looking me in the eye.

`James Scott, you are a man's man, and nothing I or Daniel will do to
you will ever change that.'

I turned towards Daniel.

`Daniel, the same goes for you. You are a beautiful young man and it
will be a pleasure for me to teach you a lot about your own body and a
lot about sex and at the end of the day, you will still be as straight as
a die, but a lot more knowledgeable and a lot more fore-bearing and
tolerant of others and their sexual orientations.'

`Master?'

`Yes, James?'

`Will it always be as good as it was tonight?'

`No, James, because Daniel is not yet as good as I am and I want him to
practise on you a couple of nights.'

Daniel half-opened his mouth in shock and James and I both had to laugh
at his surprise. When he got accustomed to the idea, he started to smile
and finally he began to laugh quietly as well.

One thing is very clear. While rape by definition is almost invariably
wrong as an act of sexual force imposed on another, it can only be
between persons. It does not refer to slaves in Dahra, who by definition
are property.

However, in the case of my slaves, a robust sexual introduction, in its
imposition, of sex with another man can be regarded in retrospect as a
blessing. After it occurs, the slave will never fear it again, if the
Master is caring of the feelings of the slave who will learn how to
please the Master at those sexual times and out of the bedroom, on all
other occasions.

The other misconception is that all straight men actually enjoy sex. That
is untrue. There is a body of men who are simply asexual, for whom sex is
of absolutely no importance. We see that all the time in those men who
marry and abstain from sex, or in those who espouse a cause.

There is also a body of straight men who are quite celibate and simply
live their lives as either single or married persons, without having sex.
It may sound strange to some ears, but such men exist and I am not
talking about monks in the various religions.

Another misconception is that all straight men dislike gay sex. Many
straight men recognise that the best blowjobs are given by gay men who
know what is what in stimulating a penis.

If we go further down this path of reasoning, we must come to the
conclusion that straight people are unable to please each other, because
they have no clue how the other truly feels. Which, as anatomical
differences impose limits on empathy, is true, of course. One can
communicate about what one likes and what brings one to sexual ecstasy.
And one can watch each other's reactions. It is a matter of using
senses, voice but most of all the brain. Some learn. Some don't. In
other words, if one can find out what is what in stimulating a man
without being one, one can find out what a woman likes without being one.

While dislike of gay sex is obviously true for a substantial number, many
a straight man is quite flattered to be the object of attention, even the
object of public attention, of a gay person, who can appreciate either
his build, his muscle, his style or his sense of dress, but can be even
happier when the spotlight of attention shifts off him, leaving him to
the ribald comments of pals.

What is definitely very clear is that many straight men have had their
best blowjobs from gay men and have never been turned into queers.

Sexual preferences differ like the colours in the spectrum of light which
ranges from infra-red to ultraviolet. If Daniel Saxon's and James
Scott's orientation was at the heterosexual end of the spectrum, where
more often than not it is situated, so it would remain for all time.

While both might have a barrier or two taken down as to their prejudices
about those who are gay or those who have sex with them in my Palaces,
the loss of barriers and of prejudices in no way constitutes a change of
sexual orientation. What changes is their perception of wavelengths other
than their own in the continuum ranging from exclusive orientation
towards persons of the same sex, to exclusive orientation towards the
other sex. In this respect, sex as practised with and among my slaves can
be an eye-opener.

The inverse, of course, applies equally. My secretary, Ben Trant and his
lover Gianni Centini, are both gay and openly so, known for their
sexuality to myself and the general body of my slaves, who themselves in
their vast majority are purely and simply heterosexual. The daily
interaction of Ben and Gianni with the body of slaves will never change
their sexual orientation and vice versa.

My nephew Jack, it seemed, had found his own orientation to lie among the
yellows and greens of the centre.

The entire spectrum taken together constitutes the light that emanates
from the glow of human sexuality.

End of Chapter 10

To be continued . . .