Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2004 18:37:13 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Dahran Way - Chapter 20 - Gay - Authoritarian

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

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, slavery, punishment, re-training,
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.

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The Dahran Way

Chapter 20 The importance of submission

 Bozo Kalik

The average prisoner whom we receive from the EU jails has a number of
common characteristics. First, he is male. He also a `lifer,' serving
not less than twenty five years of a sentence, but more likely a sentence
for the rest of his natural life, a `without possibility of parole'
prisoner as they say in some jurisdictions and most likely a multi-crime
criminal. We have never received a `single crime' prisoner that I can
remember.

We have received prisoner-slaves, who have quite literally got away with
murder, but have been convicted on technicalities, which would have no
relevance in other places. These are prisoners, who have never been
seriously challenged before in giving their total obedience and
submission to anyone and certainly not to any authority other than
themselves.

The majority of the new prisoner slaves also share a number of other
characteristics. They are in their majority out-of-shape, with a history
of violence and are heterosexual.

Bozo Kalik, the recalcitrant Serbian slave, with whom Bryce Sands had to
spend so much personal time breaking down his walls of resistance, one
after the other, was perhaps the most typical of these new arriving
slaves.

In summary, a nasty piece of work, of faulty and from what his file
said, sadly, lacking education.



Taking over from Ivan Sorovich during the afternoons in the last
compound are Mirzan Babak, my Iranian trainer and his partner Vaz Atagi,
the Chechen trainer. They are my two trainers in charge of this last
compound and not only do they work as a team, they work as an excellent
team with a streamlined and seamless set of actions and performance.



As I was following the training of Bozo Kalik, I was there when he was
strapped down onto a table and saw Vaz insert a small stainless steel
brank into Bozo's mouth and a similar one into the mouths of the other
four slaves. The brank, something akin to the bit of a horse-bridle, but
in two parts, was then locked into position, keeping the mouth wide open,
but not painfully so.



It may have come as a surprise for the slave lying on the table, having
a view of his world temporarily half upside down, to see various very
well endowed slaves walk in and each one stand at the head of each bound
slave on each table.

Bozo Kalik gave a gargled cry and his body gave a shudder, as far as it
was possible strapped down tightly on his back. The penny had dropped as
to what was about to happen.

On Mirzan's nod, the slave standing by his table introduced his cock
into the open orifice before him. As all the slaves in the team of
volunteers, he was well endowed in length as well as in girth, which must
have been six inches in circumference -- the size of a small apple.

If you have ever tried to introduce a small apple in its entirety into
your mouth you will know just how much the jaws have to stretch wide open
to even try and accommodate it. Bozo tried to avoid the cock entering his
mouth by moving his head, but the training slave merely held his head
still and let his member rest between the lips of the strapped down
slave. He was in no hurry. He gradually introduced his cock into the
slave's mouth, so that Bozo could feel its size and taste his precum.

I watched Bozo Kalik struggle with the size of the penis being inserted
into his mouth. His training slave was patient and unhurried. Very gently
an in-and-out motion was started and soon the friction brought the
training slave's cock to full erection. In some cases, such as with
Bozo, this can cause a problem, as many of the slaves have difficulty
with a sizeable cock in their mouths for the first time, to say nothing
of a cock, which is touching the back of the throat.

After thirty minutes, Vaz gave the sign for the next phase to start.

Most persons have an automatic body gag reflex in the mouth. It stops us
swallowing what has not been chewed properly and it stops liquids going
down the wrong way. It therefore takes a little time for the gag reflex
to be overcome.

The training slave now started to test Bozo's gag reflex, as the four
at the other tables started doing the same. This was done carefully and
gently. There was no point in distressing the strapped down slaves too
much. They were being trained after all, not being punished.

The gagging point was easily ascertained. Bozo's body bucked as he felt
himself being choked from within. He was quickly distressed at the
gagging reflex. The training slave immediately pulled back and started a
gently rocking motion in and out aiming for that point.



I would have said that this went on for about half an hour and seemed to
be going well, when the training slave stopped, pulled out his cock,
which was leaking precum profusely and called Mirzan over and asked for a
replacement slave take over. The first training slave was too close to
coming.

The second training slave arrived and as soon as he was at full erection
he started to press his cock in an inch, but not more, down Bozo's
gullet until the gag point was reached afresh.

`Master, some refreshment?'

Drink, my body slave, was at my side offering a glass of Bob Conrad's
famous limejuice, which had been brought down from the Lime Palace in a
thermos flask.

I sipped it for a while as the day was quite hot and calling over Mirzan
and Vaz when the procedures were to my opinion running smoothly, I had
Drink fill up my glass again and I offered it first to Mirzan, who
drained it in two gulps. When refilled, I gave it to Vaz, who drank the
cooling limejuice down likewise. The sign of favour to my two trainers
was not lost on the training slaves present.

After an hour of this new procedure an end is called by Mirzan.

The training slaves slipped the branks off their trainees to rinse them.
The slaves on the tables were now bathed in sweat. For some reason,
slaves sweat a lot during deep throating. Perhaps it is because they have
just come in from training in the outside heat; perhaps, it is because
the day, even inside the training unit of the compound, is getting hot. I
have never quite understood the reason.

`Bozo, would you like some water?'

The training slave was offering a cup of water to the slave whom he had
been deep-throating. It is not just an act of kindness to one, who is
thirsty, it is a psychological act of bonding between the trainer and the
trainee. It is a statement that the deep throating is nothing more than a
training technique, akin to having one's hair cut or face shaved.

I noticed that Bozo had difficulty in speaking, but hoarsely said
something.

The trainer said, `Please. You say `please' when you reply.'

Bozo hoarsely said `Please,' as the sweat poured off his face and into
his blinking eyes. For some reason, he looked over in my direction. I
raised my glass to him and nodded my approval of his efforts to date.

I noticed that Bozo Kalik was maintaining eye contact with me as I sat
there looking at him and the other slaves being trained.

The next step in the slaves' sexual training involved probing at
sphincter muscle level and touches of the prostrate. Their legs were
released from the tables and raised up to be attached to ankle restraints
hanging from bars, which gave the trainers full access to their now
well-stretched and well-fucked anuses. The excitement of the situation
alone may cause the trainee to get a hard-on and the insertion of fingers
into his hole certainly will.

Bozo Kalik was no exception here and after some minutes I noticed his
full erection. His trainer was good in that he kept Bozo on edge for all
of fifteen minutes, massaging the gland of his prostate and allowing the
erection to rise and fall, but never pushing the orgasm over the lip of
the sexual precipice from, which there is no return.

However, all physical bodies have their physical limit of endurance. If
the pain becomes too much we pass out and faint, if the pleasure becomes
to much autonomic reactions occur, we giggle, we laugh, we shiver. They
are reactions over, which we have no control.

Bozo Kalik was held on the brink of orgasm as long as the his trainer
could. But the point came when release was inevitable and Bozo's cum
splattered up his smooth hairless torso in three jerking shots.

When Bozo came and came and came, I stood up and took the wet cloth from
the trainer and wiped him down myself. I washed the cloth clean, wrung it
to semi-dryness and proceeded to wipe down Bozo's body starting with his
head and neck. His black eyes were on me in their piercing stare. His
oval face, which had been three times treated with the depilatory cream
was already beardless and soft.

Drink was beside me holding my glass of limejuice in case I were thirsty
again. I dipped my middle-finger in the limejuice and brought it to
Bozo's lips and wiped the drops of limejuice across his lips. He licked
them greedily with his pink tongue. I dipped two of my fingers in the
limejuice and in what is always a dangerous manoeuvre were it ever to go
wrong, I brought my fingers to his lips and inserted them in his mouth.
Bozo started to suck my fingers of the cooling drops of limejuice.

He was on the way to being trained as a properly adjusted slave despite
all the negative baggage, which his environment and his own bad choices
had inflicted upon him.

The training slave returned to Bozo's side with the cleaned brank in
his hand.

`Will you need this again, or will you promise to open your mouth and
not try to bite? If you will be obedient, just say: Yes, sir.'

I could see the wheels turning in the Serb's head. He hesitated, opened
his mouth, hesitated again. No sound came out.

`Time out. You get the mouth spreader again. You can think about
whether it might be a good thing to say `Yes sir' when you are asked
the same question again tomorrow.'



I missed the group's further days of training in the fifth compound
because I had business to attend to elsewhere.

Though many slaves put on a brave face, internally most are terrified of
the unknown. In fact, if we really state the truth, we are all terrified
of the truly unknown. We are so happy with the facts and faces and
situations we know. We are even happy with a know danger. What we fear
and frequently reject is what we do not know, simply because it is just
that -- unknown and unfamiliar. The new slave has to cope with the
climate, one or two new languages, a strange diet and the fact of having
to go around naked before total strangers.

I am always aware that for the bewildered slave coming into this new
environment, the pain of total loss of his freedom should be minimised
while the pain of acceptance of his new status in slavedom should be
lessened by the touch of a buddy, the approval of an overseer and
especially from time to time, by a happy Master. I have always felt that
touch is an expression of humanity to a prisoner slave, who is now on
humanity's lowest rung.

Both Mirzan and Vaz were very watchful for any signs of residual
resistance, which would have the slave sent back to the fourth compound
even on the say-so of one of them. On this there was no dispute. No
resisting slave would ever be let out of the compounds.

The second last of the procedures was actually for me as Master to
deliver.

Under the canvas awning in the centre of the fifth and last compound was
a large wooden table, which served a number of purposes and, which I used
for my first personal examination of each slave at the end of their
training.

The slave was required to willingly get up on that table, kneeling
forward put his head and shoulders down on it, clasp his hands in the
middle of his back, spread his knees two feet wide and wait my
examination of his prostate gland. Even after the removal of a testicle,
all managed creditable performances in shoot-lines of cum.

At the Lemon Palace, punishment had its public place and reward for
effort was publicly given as well. Well-shooting slaves received another
biscuit that dinnertime.

Bozo Kalik, who in the opinion of both Mirzan and Vaz, his trainers, was
the most difficult slave coming into the fifth compound with my first
group of prisoner slaves, rose with the rest of his class and graduated
into the small body of original slaves, who had come with the Lemon
Palace purchase and who would be the workforce of the Lemon Palace

On the day when the first five EU slaves graduated from the fifth
compound, I thought it was time to take another look at Zeki Kemal, Berk
Onur and the other original farm slaves on the new property.

The original twenty nine slaves whom the al-Shaad brothers had sold me
along with the Lemon Palace were lined up before their quarters for
evening inspection.

The work on the farms at the Lemon Palace had been progressing slowly
but surely with Komil, my stables manager in charge. I had not got around
to giving the original twenty nine slaves their gold necklaces. Some had
seen my overseers wearing theirs, but had not really associated it with
being the property of a mere slave, as the training slaves and normal
slaves do not wear it while working.

Ben Trant, my secretary, stood beside me with a tray of golden sparkling
objects. Komil called out each name. The first slave came forward
hesitatingly and could not believe it when I placed a necklace of gold
around his neck.

I explained to all that it was a sign of my favour and should that
favour be lost, the necklace would be taken back. It was also a sign that
the slave was owned by me and accepted fully being owned by me. The slave
half-stumbled back in line, fingering the gold object around his neck.

The original slaves of the Lemon Palace looked much better than when I
had purchased them. They had been cleaned up. They had lost their tattoos
and metal ornamentation. Their bodies had the depilatory cream applied
with great and beautifying effect. Their hair was short, their teeth
capped and even. Over half of them had received laser treatment on their
eyes and various of them now wore the new permanent anti-sun glare
contact lens. None of them had been gelded, as they were a submissive lot
to start with -- though it had been up to Komil to teach them proper
behaviour in the presence of a Master again -- and I deemed that they had
suffered more than enough in their previous plight.

The fifth slave forward was the one whose wrist had been broken at some
point and, which had been badly set, if it had been set at all. Yves
Fournier, the Palace surgeon and doctor had operated on it, having had to
break it again and re-set it. The wrist and forearm was still in plaster
and held in place by a string mesh looped round the slave's neck. He was
crying when I put the necklace round his neck. From his name I judged him
to be one of the Iraqi slaves, who had been acquired by slave owners in
Dahra after the war in that country. He was a small man, with a narrow
face and jet-black eyebrows, the stubble of hair on his head was streaked
with grey.

`Master, Master...' he started to say, but could say no more and fresh
tears streamed down his face. He took my hand and kissed the back of it.

Komil ushered him back in line, in case he got too emotional.

The only remaining slaves, who had not received gold necklaces were the
two former supervisors, Zeki Kemal and Berk Onur and the five, who had
just graduated from the fifth compound.

`You will remember that I said that these two' -- indicating the two
Turks -- `would be gelded if three of you so voted. You must vote on
these two.'

The two Turks had dropped to their knees and had their foreheads pressed
onto the sand.

`Who votes that they should be gelded?'

Two hands went up.

`Who votes that they should be not gelded?'

Twenty five hands went up and I counted the hands silently.

I looked at the slave, who had not voted either way.

`You again! You have again not voted one way or the other?'

`No, Master. I want to forgive them for having hurt us all when they
were supervisors, but I cannot. I also want to hurt them for having hurt
us all, but I cannot vote to hurt them. I leave my vote, Master, in your
hands.'

`From the reports I have received, Zeki and Berk have been servicing
your sexual needs well day and night and none of you have complained on
that score. Komil tells me that they have been working hard on rock duty.
Only two of you have voted negatively, so I shall go with the opinion of
the majority and leave them with their balls for the moment.'

There were muffled cries of `Master, Master, Master...' as the two
Turks shuffled forward, took my right foot and in turn placed it on the
back of their necks in submission to their owner and Master.

`Master,' Berk said half looking up at me, `may I give you full
obeisance.'

`Please, Master,' Zeki echoed.

`You may.'

Berk undid my trousers and held up my penis to his lips and kissed it.
While he was doing this, my eyes were on the five new graduates from the
compounds and particularly on Bozo Kalik. Some of their eyes expressed
astonished surprise, Bozo's were blackly expressionless. Zeki shuffled
forward and made a full obeisance likewise kissing the tip of my penis
and then lifted up my trousers and buckled it back in place.

When they had made their obeisance, I gave them each their gold necklace
and each said a humble `Thank you, Master.'

It is Komil Rostov's procedure to state his dominance and position as
stables manager over each of his charges that he take each such slave to
his bed. That trips off the tongue easily, but Komil is all of six foot
seven or eight. His penis when flaccid is ten inches and upon erection,
some twelve inches. But it is its girth more akin to a young man's
muscled forearm and its hardness, which makes it a formidable weapon for
making slaves submit to his will and to acknowledge his leadership as
stables manager.

His first choice for bedding, Komil told me the following day, of the
new slaves was none other than Bozo Kalik. I asked him why, particularly
since the Italian and Catalan slaves looked nice, to say nothing of the
more solidly well built Austrian and Bosnian slaves.

`Bah!, Master, they will be a little dessert when I have to take them,
but Bozo Kalik was a main dish. There was meat in his breaking.'

`Meat? I don't understand, Komil.'

`Master, you may think that Bozo Kalik is a trained slave. He is not.
He is on the way to being a good slave, who will fully acknowledge you as
Master. He has gone through the techniques and procedures, but somewhere
in the depths of his soul he is holding out. He will be in my bed until I
have found that somewhere and have confronted him.'

`You think he is not broken to our ways?'

`No, Master, not yet. He is about there, but not just yet. I have seen
his clever type before. Last night, I took him in front of all the other
slaves in the sleeping quarters and ordered him on to his back with his
legs held over his head. He shouted a long time while I fucked him on his
back and when I had come for the first two times, I could see that he
thought I was finished. But in fact, I was only starting. I had him suck
me hard again and then I fucked him `doggie' style another three times,
until after midnight. The other slaves were all asleep by then and I only
stopped when he asked to.'

`He asked you to stop?'

`He said, `Sir, please stop. You are hurting me.'

`And were you?'

`Maybe, Master. I am big and I was fucking him for all of four hours.
So I said to him, `I stop when you beg me to and acknowledge, who is
your overseer and who is your Master.' He replied very quietly as I
continued to corn-hole him `You, sir, are my overseer and the Master is
my Master.' I don't think he could remember your name, Master.'

`So you stopped fucking him.'

`Yes, Master, but I left my cock inside him for the rest of the night,
just to reinforce the point of, who was his overseer. In the morning,
though he could hardly stand, walking bow-legged into the showers, he
washed me down as he was taught and sucked me off. And then as his buddy
for the moment, I washed him down and sucked him off in turn. His cum
tastes very acidy.'

`I know. So, what is your assessment of Bozo Kalik then, Komil.'

`Master, he will be either a great supervisor or a dead slave. There
will be no in-between.'

It was not an assessment that I cared to contradict.

End of chapter 20

To be continued...