Date: Sat, 30 Aug 2003 16:45:14 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Reluctant Retrainer - Chapter 22

This is the 22nd and final chapter of The Reluctant Retrainer, part two
of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.

PART THREE OF THE TRILOGY, THE MARKET OFFER, BEGINS ON 20th SEPTEMBER
2003

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

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

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if this material
will be unlawful for you to read where your live, please leave his
webpage now.

Contact points:
eMail: gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com
Web: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Reluctant Retrainer by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 22 -- Investigations

One evening as I was eating my evening meal, Bob, the Canadian, who was
the usual slave to serve me at table, seem to be distracted in his own
thoughts.

`A penny for them, Bob' I said and he jumped a little and just like
him, when caught in something strange or that he should not have been
doing, he started to blush.

`Sorry, Master.'

`Sorry for what, Bob? You were miles away. And now you are blushing, so
what gives?'

His Adam's apple jumped up and down as he swallowed hard.

`I was just thinking of back in Canada, Master' he said very quietly.

`Kneel over here beside me, Bob'

He knelt beside me as I ate my meal. I rubbed his short cut hair and
tickled him behind an ear. He even managed a half smile.

`You're not angry with me, Master?'

`Why should I be, Bob, your thoughts are your own. Why now? What's up?
Are you unhappy here?'

`I don't know why Master. I just thought of my family having an
evening meal back home. And no, I cannot say I am unhappy here. Life is
different here. I don't think I can ever leave here' -- and he pointed
to the titanium bracelet on his right ankle behind him -- `not unless
Canada recognises slavery, which I doubt,' which he said with a wry
smile.

`Master, I am sorry I was distracted during your meal.'

`Bob, you have nothing to be sorry about. I am glad you told me what
was on your mind. Now, if you have no other worries at the moment, what
would make you really happy?'

He thought for a moment, and then half smiled and said, `I would really
like to make Flavio happy in bed.'

`Bob, now you shock me indeed. I thought that you two were getting on
very happily together like larks in clover.'

Each of the slaves had a buddy who was first and foremost a companion,
but who usually became a lover and their bonding in sex, initially a
mating passion, soon became either a love which carried them through the
life they had in the Aloe Palace, or cemented a friendship at the very
least for the time being.

`Boss, I love him to bits. He is warm and generous and kind and loving.
Each night I try to find a new place of his body to make love too and he
is so sensitive all over that that is not difficult. I am even become a
reasonable lover to him now that he has had his surgery.'

I had Flavio's anus attended to as he had been fist fucked for over a
month in Italy before being sold on to the auction-house at al-Qatim and
he had been tightened up back there.

`So, what Bob is the problem?'

My fingers were now running over Bob's cock head which with its very
tender joining just under its tip ensured that he was rock-hard in less
than a minute. He adjusted the space between his legs, like he always did
when he wanted me to touch his firm twenty-year old balls. They were warm
and smooth, all hair having long been taken off them by the original
depilating cream.

`Flavio can't fuck me well, Boss. I know I have stretched and
stretched myself back there with three and four-inch plugs, but I am
still too tight for his size. You do know, Boss, that when he gets big,
he really gets big -- a lot bigger and thicker than Mehmed and Mamoud.
Back in Canada, we used say `beer can' big'.

`That big?' I said surprised. `So, you are really saying that you
want to find a buddy for him whom he can fuck without tearing him to
pieces.'

`In one, Master, in one. And Master if you do not stop what you are
doing, I am going to have more than a little accident.'

I looked at him and he looked at me and we both started laughing.

`Well, Bob, that problem we can solve right now, but your problem with
Flavio is not something either of us can solve tonight. But you have
given me something to think about. Now stand up and let me see what a
healthy young man you are.'

His cock was in all its glory as I gently sucked him off to a worthy
climax, but I was thinking at the same time as I was sucking -- it is
strange how the mind can operate on two levels - I did not let on that
what I was really thinking about was not Flavio, but Canada and the
family that was lost to him.

Two of the advantages of the Grand Cayman Island, apart from the private
banking, are that they are eight hours behind Dahra and secondly, though
I hate saying it, it is an island where money talks.

I rang my private Bank in Georgetown, its capital, after dinner and
asked for a firm of lawyers who could set up a company for me. The Bank
said that their own in-house lawyers did that all the time and I was put
through to one of them -- a very competent lady.

I said that I wanted a company where my identity would not be known as a
shareholder, and which would have at least one director who could carry
out various jobs for me which for the moment would involve hiring various
investigators in various parts of the world.

The lady lawyer indicated that this would be simplicity itself and that
she herself would have the company created before close of business that
day, and that she had such a director -- a Josh Green, living locally,
not actually working for the Bank, something to do with local Cayman law,
who was a director or company secretary of various of the Bank's
offshore companies and available who would carry out the duties required
of him as instructed by the sole shareholder.

I asked for a company Bank account to be set up at the private Bank and
had two million euro transferred into it to cover capital and future
expenses. Script and voice signatories to the account would be any two of
three -- herself, this Josh Green and myself.

She said she would send me an eMail of his contact numbers and details,
which she did twenty minutes later.

Josh Green was as efficient as the lady lawyer and over the next few
days each evening after dinner, I emailed him the background details I
had on each of the slaves I owned and asked him to look into the family
backgrounds of the those `missing' persons, as they would appear to
him, whose dossiers I had sent him.

I told him that all of these persons would have been regarded as
`missing' at some stage in the past. It was not that I was looking for
these people, but rather what had happened or was happening to the
families that had been left behind.

If Josh Green had received strange or stranger requests in the past, he
betrayed no sense of amazement, but merely asked when or how urgent the
reports were to be. I replied anytime over the next thirty days.



What surprised me when the reports arrived in two's and three's over
the following weeks, some of the reports taking up to almost two months,
were two common factors in all of them -- first, how little each of the
slaves had actually left behind and secondly, save in four cases, how
quickly they were forgotten by those who had known them. In twelve of the
twenty nine cases, there was no traceable family whatsoever, and Ross's
comment at one stage about the Aloe Palace now being `a family' for
each slave who lived there rang so very true.

By European seasonal timing, late winter and early spring in Dahra were
a time of year when the Aloe Palace and its grounds always looked superb
according to Aziz, whom I had acquired from the previous owner as head of
household.

The Dahran climate was perhaps at its best in the early year when the
sun was not yet too hot. I now had over twenty acres of walkway under
pergolas and open gardens in a riot of colour. The slaves themselves,
particularly the Swedes on loan and those who worked the fields of
vegetables, would simply walk the gardens in the shade during the hotter
parts of the day and stroll in the evening under the pergolas covered
with every possible clematis and trellis climber.

The one thing the gardens did not have was any great number of fountains
or water works and that was one thing I was determined to remedy in a new
Palace I was beginning to think of building on the newly acquired lands
where the water had been discovered.

I decided to hold off action on to the reports until after the new
Palace was built. I was already calling it in my mind the Lime Palace as
it was near the capped water wells where some lime trees had been
growing.

My long-term plan was to create the largest of farms -- albeit a
slave-farm -- on which the slaves could live and work, cultivating a
market garden of herbs and the aloe plant which grew so well in the
desert climate and for which I had plans.

Since my arrival some twenty months earlier, the slaves had become a
family of sorts, living with dignity though in subservience and
submission to me, their lord and Master, Sir Jonathan Martin.

Here at my Palace, I thought that the slaves should have as useful a
life as possible with the purpose of giving me enjoyment and pleasure in
every conceivable manner.

I also felt that Fate, which had placed them and such enormous wealth in
my hands, gave me the means not only to have my every sexual or material
whim sated, in any manner and form I wish, but also that same Fate gave
me the means to achieve my other desires and ends.

How some of this all happened in the new year is part of another story
which as I record these matters, in my mind's eye, I called The Market
Offer.

The End

Characters in part two of the story of Sir Jonathan Martin - my story

Background Characters
Abdou al-Akhri  youngest of the al-Akhri brothers
Abu Ben-Azri  businessman, seaweed producer
Colin Bowman Deckam's Rio de Janeiro partner
Farouq al-Hamdi Mine owner and businessman
Gus Jennings  American, Tariq al-Akhri's stable overseer
Gustav Ahlson  Swedish, head of Deckams' Dahra office
Ivan Urlov  Russian, unsuccessful stables overseer
Jalal al-Akhri Second of the al-Akhri brothers
John Tunnor  personnel partner at Deckams
Jonathan Martin myself, English, banker Deckams' Dahra partner
Rashid al-Akhri eldest brother and head of the al-Akhri family
Tariq al-Akhri  deputy Finance Minister, 2nd al-Akhri brother
Tommy Elford English, Deckams' Tokyo partner

Employees
Cal Thorson American, second dentist
Hal Thiecke  American, first dentist
Nacho Cuesta Costa Rican, ophthalmologist
Yves Fournier Doctor and surgeon

Overseers
Aziz al-Aziz head of Abdou al-Akhri's, head of my household
Greg Logan English, former Commando, 10th slave, training overseer
Pete Downings Australian, painter, 21st slave, 2nd head of household
Stan Mercer New Zealander, 26th slave, water overseer
Yuriy Obov Kazakh, my 1st slave, fields overseer

Assistant overseers at the Aloe Palace
Jess Tollman  American, paint factory worker, my 16th slave
Radek Pachlik  Czech, 2nd slave, assistant field overseer
Rolf Hanzer  Swiss German, sports, 3rd slave, gym and swim coach

Assistant overseers at the Lime Palace
Dumi Bod  Moldavian, my 5th slave, assistant field overseer
Jiri Aron Czech, farmhand, my 8th slave, far
Mehmed/Mamoud  the two layabout slaves, Mehri, 14th and 15th slaves
Raoul Sounard French, meat packer, 23rd slave
Todd Allen American, lorry driver, 20th slave, assistant field overseer
Yedo Petrov Bulgarian, farm worker, 18th slave

Personal and household slaves
Ali Tasani  Kurd, 11th slave
Andy McTee Scottish, 24th slave, English teacher
Bob Conrad  Canadian, jock, 7th slave, house help, English teacher
Bryce Sands American, English teacher
Flavio Pinelli  Italian, my 4th slave, my chef
Food and Drink  my two body slaves, 12th and 13th slaves
Hassan Dufhar Somali, 25th slave, Arabian teacher
Ivan Sorovich Russian, 1st slave to be retrained
Jake Johansson Danish, 1st prisoner slave
Jerzy Zarchewicz Polish, waiter, 28th slave, property team
Komil Rostov Uzbek, mechanic, 19th slave, personal slave
Marek Czyblonzki  Polish, bartender, 27th slave, property team
Nassr al-Merga Egyptian, Arabic Teacher
Niko Ziel South African, ex 20 gift slaves
Randy Tait American, electrician, 22nd slave, assistant to doctor
Roge Harte Australian, footballer, personal trainer
Rob Kuiper South African, ex 20 gift slaves
Ross Wells  English, ninth slave, call guy, English teacher
Scott Billings American, English teacher
Sergio Goncalves  Brazilian, limbo dancer, assistant to dentist
Sunar Hussein Iraqi, Arabic Teacher
Tommy Saunders American, ex-cop, English teacher
Vitali Belov  Russian, 6th slave, my masseur
Walid Boudenib Moroccan, Arabic Teacher
Wik Kootens Dutch, 30th slave, property team