Date: Fri, 10 Dec 2004 14:12:29 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Seventh Desert - Chapter 9 - Gay - Authoritarian

The Seventh Desert by Gerry Taylor



This is the ninth chapter (ex twenty two) of a novel about present-day
slavery and gay sex.

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



  Chapter 9 -- The niceties of dining



  The Dahran Diamond hotel had not been touched by the invading force and
could normally provide a cuisine comparable with a mere dozen top class
hotels world-wide.

  However, dinner at the Dahran Diamond with my sister and brother-in-law
that evening was a nightmare. Rather dinner with Elizabeth was. It had
nothing to do with the cuisine and everything to do with the avoidance of
certain topics.

  My brother-in-law just munched his way through things, keeping his
quiet as he usually does when Elizabeth is talking--of which she did a
lot as usual, sipped his drinks and kept looking at me with the strange
look of one who is amused, yet not amused, smiling, yet not smiling.

  Baby Jason was the centre of attraction in his portable crib. Fiona was
handling Elizabeth's endless questions about Jason's health, feeding,
lifestyle and injections.

  David Tuttle had come from the Lemon Palace to join us for the dinner
and the comment that he was building a new home for me, indicated in some
way to Elizabeth that the old home was nothing to be worth seeing. She
therefore, thankfully, gave no hint of wanting to see where I lived.

  The hotel had provided a side section of the dining room for our table
on their roof garden. There was a magnificent view of the port to the
east and of the desert to the west, thankfully the burnt out shell of the
Hilton was on the other side from where we were sitting. The sun was
driving a chariot of flames through the entire spectrum of evening
colours.

  The food was fine, though I could not remember its taste. Jack had
tasted the wine for me and said to the sommelier that it was fine. A
superb 1978 Château Belcier was never so poorly described, but I let it
pass as my heart was not in the dinner.

  One does not like to ask guests how long they intend staying, but
Elizabeth let it slip during the meal that she and Jock would only be in
Dahra for four days. My mind immediately converted it into ninety six
hours. This was quickly followed by the thought of how to fill four days
of keeping her away from anything remotely compromising.

  It was quite clear that the Dahran visit was Elizabeth's idea; she
even went as far as saying that it might be a good idea for Jack to work
in a civilised country without revolutions and that Fiona and the
baby-bairn had to be taken into serious consideration.

  After the meal, we sat under a type of shaded pergola in the roof
garden. Fiona announced that she and Elizabeth would be going shopping
the following morning for clothes for baby Jason and would have lunch at
one of Fiona's favourite eateries. I felt that Fiona should have been
awarded the Order of Merit there and then.

  One morning and early afternoon at least would be filled!

  Jock Tuttle accepted the offer of some cigars proffered by the hotel
management. I took one as well and we moved off towards one side of the
roof garden.

  `Do you know, Jonathan, what the great secret of Scotch is?' he said
in that avuncular manner of his when he is happy with his food and
happier with his drink.

  His question was rhetorical, not requiring my reply and I knew that it
was leading up to something.

  `A number of secrets, really. Good grain, good Scottish water,
patience and the real secret, observation of what is and is not. Since we
arrived today, I have been observing. You and Jack, Fiona, and even
David, are acting as if you are skating on thin ice. A lifetime of
observation tells me so.'

  I have always liked my brother-in-law. He has infinite patience. With
Elizabeth, you have to. I caught David's eye and nodded with my head to
come over. Jack looked up and I nodded to him to come as well. The two
cousins joined us, their drinks in their hands.

  For all the world to see, it was as if the women were talking of their
things and the men were assembling to talk of theirs.

  `Jock, here thinks we have been skirting some issue or other; that we
are acting as if we are skating on thin ice.'

  `Uncle Jock,' David said, `it's just that Dahra is not on the
tourist map and I, for one, had not heard you were coming on a visit. I
think you just surprised us all by turning up. We are delighted to see
you though.'

  Looking at Jack , I asked, `Do you think your Dad would be bored by a
visit to the vegetable farms tomorrow?'

  Glances were exchanged between David and Jack and between Jack and me.
Jock was observing all the time saying nothing.

  `I would say that Dad would not be bored, Jonathan and even if he
were, he would never say so publicly.'

  `Well, that's settled then. While Elizabeth and Fiona are out
shopping all day, I'll show Jock the Palaces and farms.'

  `Palaces?' said Jock bemused.

  `That's just what they are called here. My old home, the present one
and the new one David is building for me. I'll have the Rolls collect
you at eight in the morning, Jock, if that's not too early for you.'

  `Not a bit, I'm always up with the dawn.'



  When we rejoined the women, Fiona shocked me by saying, `Jonathan, you
are invited to dinner tomorrow. Elizabeth and Jock are going to come to
see the house and have something to eat. Eight o'clock okay?'

  At that moment, I was looking at my nephew's face frozen in a rictus
of conflicting emotions, not least among which was incredulity as he
looked at his young wife and his mother.

  I could only nod my acquiescence and acceptance.



  I was saved from further comment by the approach of a waiter who drew
close and told me that a Mr. al-Said had arrived to see me. I told the
waiter to have him come up.

  Several pairs of eyes were on me. I put them out of their misery.

  `I have bought an interest in an opal mine and as a souvenir of your
visit here, Elizabeth, Jock, I want to give you a little present, but I
don't know your sizes.'

  `Sizes, darling?' Elizabeth coyly said.

  I was spared the explanation by the arrival of my invitee.

  `This is Mr. al-Said, a marvellous jeweller from the House of Gems
here in Dahra. I want to give each of you a ring and he asked what your
sizes were. I did not know them, so he is here now.'

  The jeweller took a small black leather case from his briefcase, opened
it for all to see and contained inside were four lines of simple iron
bands or rings of different sizes.

  `Madam,' he said to Elizabeth having glanced at her fingers, and
extended a plain metal ring to her on a silver rod. His religion would
not allow him touch the hand of a woman who was not his wife.

  Elizabeth fiddled with the ring of metal. A second ring was offered.
Elizabeth smiled. The second one fitted perfectly.

  Jock was similarly attended to and measured for a signet ring.

  `I think we'll make this a family occasion' I said, and asked Fiona
to extend her hand.

  The jeweller had her size on the first attempt. David and Jack followed
suit for signet rings.

  As the jeweller left, I had a private word with him and he assured me
all would be ready for the following evening and could either be
collected or delivered anywhere in the Sheikdom.

  Such is the quality of serviciality that we get in Dahra where money is
a constant standard of assured service and delivery.



  As I was not going to be in the Bank the following day, I had Jess
Tollman drive me up from the Palace to collect Jock. He was quite
literally walking out of the lift as I entered the foyer and turning on
my heel, we walked out of the hotel.

  `Good morning, sir,' Jess said, as he held open the door of the
Rolls.

  `Nice and easy back, Jess. Put up the divide and put on some Country
and Western turned down low.'

  `Yes, Boss,' he said, with a smile.

  As we settled in Jock said, `I didn't know you like C and W.'

  `I don't. Jess does and if he is listening to it, he can't overhear
what is said in the back.'

  Jock looked at me strangely, but said nothing.

  As we sped along the Western Road, I pointed out some of the more
salient features. The desert to the untrained eye is all the same. To
those who know it, it is different every half mile.

  `How far out are you?' Jock asked.

  `About an hour at this time of day. Sixty miles.'

  `And you do this every day?'

  `Three times a week to the Bank. The other two junior Partners, Gustav
and Colin, handle the other days superbly well.'

  I could hear a question in the ensuing silence. But Jock was as
discrete as he was patient and observant of life.

  `I have, Jock, a number of properties here.'

  `Farms?'

  `More than farms. There are three actual Palaces with desert lands
surrounding them which I have reclaimed over the past years. We now have
all-year-round crops of vegetables and by-products.'

  `By-products?'

  `Yes, an Aloe suntan lotion and an Aloe purgative.'

  `A white suntan bottle with spiky green leaf on it?'

  `That's the one.'

  `I've seen it. I think we even brought some with us.'

  `Very profitable. About fourteen million euro a year.'

  Jock looked at me.

  `And the farms?'

  `Another six million between the three of them, after all expenses
paid.'

   `So why all the secrecy, Jonathan? You know what I am talking about.
You and Jack and David have been hiding something since we first shocked
you with our unexpected arrival.'

  The Rolls is stocked with a selection of drinks. I needed water. I felt
that the truth could be trusted with Jock Tuttle.

  `Jock, I employ over a thousand in my various enterprises. With some
few exceptions who are mainly professional people, they are all slaves.'

  I sat in silence. Jock looked across at me.

  `Do you want to tell me, Jonathan?' he asked softly and for forty
minutes, until the roof of the new Lemon Palace came into view, I filled
him in as best I could. Fair dues to Jock, he never interrupted once.
When I finished, I merely pointed out the Lime Palace as we came near and
drove up the link road.

  The courtyard was empty as we arrived, but as the Rolls stopped Aziz,
my Head of Household, was coming down the entrance steps and
introductions were made.

  `Jonathan, what would you normally do today?'

  `I would check in with my secretary, Ben Trant, to see precisely what
would have been on. Today is a day I actually work here at the Palace.
But I cleared today's calendar and the work has been rescheduled for
next week.'

  `Let me wander round the Palace, the grounds, the farm. Am I
prohibited from going anywhere?'

  `No.'

  `Then let me wander and I will meet you back here in some hours'
time. When you lunch, I'll lunch.'

  As we were speaking Todd Allen, one of the farm Overseers was coming
out of one of the buildings, a new adze in his hand. I called him over.

  `Todd, this is Jock Tuttle, Master Jack's father. Get a sand buggy.
Show him round the grounds and farms and at eleven have him back here and
hand him over to Bob Conrad, who will show him the Lime Palace.'

  Jock extended a hand and a surprised Todd Allen took it with a smile
and shook it.

  I watched the two walk off before walking in to call for my secretary,
Ben Trant.



  Jock Tuttle's tour of the farm and gardens had ended, and Bob Conrad
had been on hand to show him round the Lime Palace. I truly expected to
have been on the receiving end of a number of questions to say the least,
but Jock barely spoke during lunch. It was not a strained lunch; he
simply seemed to be immersed in his thoughts.

  Bob, my Head of Serving Staff and an assistant Supervisor, I think more
out of decorum as it was not a breakfast, was in his shorts and served us
lunch. As he now is breaking in several members of the kitchen staff on
duties, he had the two sorbet-makers as I think of them, Efim and Viktor,
helping him. They were naked. Jock did not seem to notice as they took
plates away and put in the new service in readiness for the following
course.

  `Over a thousand is that what you said, Jonathan?'

  `Just about. Between the three Palaces and at a mining facility. The
numbers are almost evenly divided between all of the locations.'

  The thought of the number of slaves in my service was still running
through his mind.

  `And the slaves take classes from eleven to three at the Palaces?'

  `Yes, most of them. Some like Flavio and his staff in the kitchens
have a different rota of their own.'

  `And you, what do you yourself do in the afternoons and evenings?'

  `After lunch, a nap at times. Then a massage at the pool. I have a
great masseur here, or I have a sauna and a swim. More work until dinner
time and then sit on the veranda to listen to what the slaves wish to say
to me.'

  `The lunch was delightful, Jonathan. I think I shall take a nap. We
have to be back for, what? Eight o'clock for dinner at Fiona and
Jack's.'

  `Yes.'

  Then Jock surprised me.

  `What have those two to do for the next while?' he said indicating
Efim and Viktor.

  `Nothing.'

  `Then, can they take a nap with me?'

  `By all means.'

  Jock Tuttle was escorted upstairs by two very happy Chechens.



  Klaas informed me later that during the afternoon Jock came to the pool
for a massage with his two Chechens showing him the way. He gave Jock one
of his best massages ever, according to himself and had the two Chechens
pace him in the pool for fifteen minutes.

  At six o'clock, we were ready to depart back for the capital city and
dinner at Fiona and Jack's.

  `What can I give these two for their afternoon's attentions?' he
asked me, indicating the two Chechens, who looked a bit forlorn at this
stranger's imminent departure.

  `They need nothing. There is no need to thank them. That is the whole
aspect of slavery. They exist to serve. They are more than happy to have
served you, and I think they even look a bit sad that you are leaving.'

  `Nothing, no needs, happy,' he repeated looking at me and walking
over to the two Chechen slaves, he gave them an embrace and a `thank
you'.

  The two were a bit taken aback, but recovered sufficiently to take
Jock's hand and kiss the back of it, as they could not offer him
obeisance, he not being their Master.



  I left the Lime Palace ready for dinner, but Jock was going to need to
change at the Hotel. Elizabeth entertained me as Jock changed. Shopping
had been a delight, truly successful. The bairn would have enough wee
clothes in ever increasing sizes for years. For an Englishwoman,
Elizabeth had acquired Scottish vocabulary with ease.

  As we got into the Rolls to go to Jack and Fiona's home, I saw Jock
speaking to Jess who replied audibly `Yes, sir, they are in the boot of
the Rolls.'

  `Everything okay, Jock?'

  `Yes, Jonathan, I was just checking that something I had ordered had
been put in the car.'



  The Wisteria Palace was awash with lights as we arrived. Fiona and Jack
were there all smiles, hand in hand on the steps. Beno, in top and
shorts, was nursing baby Jason. Vedel, likewise dressed, was holding a
toy, but what pulled me up short was the appearance of several bodies,
from around the side of the Palace, dressed in kilts and white
tee-shirts. The Scots were in regalia!

  Although she had just seen the baby the previous day, Elizabeth was all
over the child. There seemed to be some hurried conversation between Beno
and Vedel and Elizabeth looked up at them. Fiona burst out laughing.

  `They're saying you are too young to be the grandmother.'

  Elizabeth gave one of her flattery-will-get-you-everywhere-with-me
smiles and Beno and Vedel had won a place in her heart.

  Jack introduced his staff to his parents.

  `But are you all Scots?'

  `Most of us, Ma'am,' Angus, the Head of Household replied. `There
are also two cooks who are Lebanese and Portuguese, and the two
bairn-minders, Beno and Vedel, who are Dahran.'

  `Jack, there are no women here.'

  `Mother, this is Dahra. It is very much desert and a man's country.'

  I was looking at the Scottish slaves. I did not know how much they had
been appraised of Elizabeth's ignorance, or of Jock's recently acquired
knowledge, which I had not had time to impart to Jack and Fiona. I did
not know what persuasion had been used on the slaves, to have them keep
quiet from Elizabeth as to their true status.

  `Mother, let us go in. Night falls quickly here and the sprinklers are
going to come on very soon.

  Fiona led the way in and we trooped in after her.

  `Mum, Dad, it is our custom here that we all eat at the one table,'
Fiona said as we entered into what is the long dining room of the
Wisteria Palace.

  One of the dining room's nice features is that is faces west and that
almost the full wall is glass, ceiling to floor, so that there is an
excellent view of the gardens to the rear and the sunsets on the horizon.

  Dahra did not fail to deliver one of its most spectacular sunsets in
mauves and red and pinks and purples. As if on cue, as we entered the
dining-room, the computer-controlled synchronised sprinklers came on with
their whoosh-whoosh-whoosh and hyperbolic sprays of white foaming water
started to sprinkle the gardens according to their computerised
programme.

  I was accustomed to the procedure at Jack's home. The family and
guests usually sit at the top crossbar table. The slaves, now kitted out
in kilts and tee-shirts, were seated at two adjoining leg-tables. I noted
there were six vacant places, four would be for the servers and two would
be for the two cooks in the kitchens.

  The dinner was simple. A good vegetable soup, obviously with the
ingredients coming from the gardens. The main course was surprisingly two
full salmon still on the bone on a bed of rocket, baby potatoes with
parsley, and broccoli washed down with a nice Sancerre.

  Dessert was a salad of fresh fruits, again mainly from the gardens,
with fresh crème à l`anis.

  Harb and Narciso, the two cooks, joined the table after the serving of
the main course and Jack rose and toasted `my Mum and Dad', to cries of
`hear, hear'. Fiona rose and toasted `Our home' and there was a
resounding toast from all to `Our home'. Jock caught my eye at that
point, but I could not read him or his thoughts. David Tuttle rose and
toasted `Scotland the brave'. There was a very resounding reply and
many a down-cast eye.

  I saw Jock nodding down to Jess Tollman, who had driven us that
afternoon and evening. Jess got up and went out, returning a minute later
with a brown carton case of whisky. He repeated the performance. When he
had seated himself again, at least fifteen pairs of eyes were on the two
cases of whisky beside Jock

  Jock got to his feet, `For Elizabeth and myself, I say thank you,
Fiona and Jack. We come bearing gifts for you and yours. For every Scot
here, a bottle of Scotch; and the balance of the cases for the house.'

  There was a cheer which lifted the roof of the dining-room.

  I now looked at Jess Tollman and he brought me the package he had been
holding for me since he had collected for me at the jewellers. I tapped
my glass with a fork and when I had silence, I rose.

  `An evening for presents. I give you mine now, because all the family
is together and I understand David that you are taking your uncle and
aunt sightseeing tomorrow.'

  `Yes, sir. Down the coastline and a bit of a picnic.'

  `Well, Fiona, our hostess, a little gift for you,' and I handed her a
small black ring case.

  Fiona looked at the black case with its gold colour border.

  Fiona opened it and a fire opal glinted in the evening light. It was a
perfect example of the beauty of the gem. She stood up and gave me a peck
on the cheek.

  `Jonathan, it is beautiful.'

  `Elizabeth,' and I extended my sister her box, `it is exactly the
same setting and size, so there is no need for either of you to be
jealous.'

  Elizabeth loves jewellery. Always has. Always will; and she merely
murmured `Oh Jonathan, thank you,' and gave me a sisterly kiss.

  `As for the three gentlemen here, a signet ring each,' and I handed
Jock, Jack and David a ring box each.

  Three signet rings were slipped on in silence and making a fist, I held
out mine. The others reciprocated and four opals glinted off each other
and glittered in their close proximity. I had two other larger boxes in
front of me and I left them as they were.

  Jock noticed and stood up.

  `Water or no water, I want to see the gardens,' he said. `You,' he
said pointing to David, `bring a couple of bottles of the Scotch, and
who'll bring glasses?'

  Hands shot up down the line of Scots.

  As I looked down the table, I realised that one familiar face was
missing. Where was Thor, whom Gustav Ahlson had loaned to Fiona? His
buddy, Andy McTee, was present. The number of slaves was even. I counted,
and found fourteen Scots. Where was Fiona's fifteenth slave? And where
was the young Swede? There was more to this than met the eye.

  When seventeen Scots, three freemen and fourteen kilted slaves had
exited the dining-room, there were only Beno and Vedel, Harb and Narciso,
Jess and I left with the two women, Fiona and Elizabeth. I beckoned up
the slaves around me and they poured out some more wine into each glass.
I slipped the two remaining cases sideways down the table to each of the
ladies.

  `A token of the day and of a beautiful meal.'

  They opened the two cases in unison. Each contained a collar necklace
of fifty opals. For once, Elizabeth was at a loss for words.

  `Jonathan, it is simply stunning,' Fiona said as she took off a
pendant and put on the collar.

  Elizabeth did likewise with her pearls and her own collar, once in
place, was equally as impressive.

  `Why, Jonathan?' she asked.

  `Because I love you both and like many things I now do, because I can,
because it is legal and because I like doing it.'

  `Long live legality,' Elizabeth quipped as she fingered the collar
and admired Fiona's.

  `Now I am told they are similar but not identical. I don't know where
or how. I am just repeating the words.'

  The Scots stayed out in the garden for almost an hour. The Scotch was
gone when they came in and two of them plonked empty bottles on the end
of the table with a contented glance at me for some reason.

  It was now getting late and Beno and Vedel had disappeared with baby
Jason.

  While Fiona and Elizabeth were talking final goodbyes for the night, I
asked Jack how he had done it.

  `Done what, Uncle Jonathan?'

  `To get all the Scots to keep mum about their actual situation here?'

  `Threat and bribery.'

  `Threat and bribery?'

  `If the topic was mentioned in any way to Elizabeth, the slave and his
buddy Scot would be sold on the open market next Thursday and even though
they might be Fiona's slaves, that in Dahran law, I did not need
Fiona's permission to do it.'

  `I don't think that is correct, but however. And the bribery?'

  `From now on, two bottles of Scotch every night after dinner.'

  'What?'

  I could not believe my ears. Jack managed an innocent look and a shrug.
But not for long. My flabbergasted expression must have been too much for
him, because he broke into a wide grin.

  'Got you.'

  I exhaled.

  'Don't worry, uncle Jonathan. The next occasion when we'll give them a
dram will probably be Jason's first birthday. Good show with the bottles,
don't you think?'

  'But what did you do? And where is Thor?'

  'Sold.'

  'You won't get me twice that way, you know.'

  'Look, I'll tell you when we have time, okay? The day after tomorrow,
we are taking Mum and Dad to the souks. We might arrange a dhow cruise,
and there's the new planetarium. We'll be fine.'



  David was quite in his cups and was going to stay overnight at the
Wisteria Palace, so I offered the Rolls to bring Elizabeth and Jock back
to their hotel. Elizabeth had made no comment at not being asked to stay
overnight.

  Jess first drove Elizabeth, Jock and myself to the Hotel and then he
and I resumed our journey to the Lime Palace.

  Jess was loquacious.

  `I think, Boss, that Master Jack's parents enjoyed the evening.'

  `And so did you, I see.'

  Jess did not see or note my anger.

  `Yes, Boss, the food was great and the wine was fine, Boss. Three full
glasses of it. It was the first time in years I had a bit of buzz, but
it's now gone. You have a safe driver, Boss, don't worry.'

  Jess had not got the message. I did not respond. I dared not respond. I
was actually seething inside me.

  I said nothing when Jess put on his favourite Country and Western
station and I pretended to doze on the way back to the Lime Palace.



  When we got back it was all of midnight. There was a figure wrapped in
a blanket on the top steps of the veranda. It was Terry Peoples who ran
down to the Rolls, even before it had stopped and stood there, the
blanket half draped over his shivering frame.

  `Terry?'

  `Master, I was so shocked yesterday that I never got around to saying
thank you... for finding Luke.'

  He was having difficulty in getting the words out and his eyes were
brimming.

  `Terry, we'll speak of this tomorrow. Now I have something to deal
with. Go and take a hot shower in my bedroom suite and I will soon be
up.'

  `Yes, Master,' the young slave said and scuttled indoors.



  Bob Conrad had appeared with the sounds in the courtyard.

  `Bob, switch on the light in number four quarters and get me a
four-foot cane.'

  Bob ran across the courtyard.

  I turned to Jess Tollman who had now stepped out of the Rolls at his
leisure. He had not even got out to open the rear door for me. Enough was
enough! I thought I would blow a fuse.

  `Follow me.'

  He walked behind me across the courtyard, where number four slave
quarters were now lighted up and on going in several pairs of slaves were
half-sitting on their pallets rubbing their eyes.

  `The Master,' someone shouted and all sprang from the pallets and ran
and formed two lines `at display' in the quarters as they would have
done for morning inspection with a Head of Household or Overseer.

  `You,' I said to Jess Tollman, `strip.'

  There was a sudden flash of uncertainly and of fear in his eyes, and
immediately he started to take of his chauffeur's uniform.

  Turning to the nearest slave `at display', I said, `Get a flogging
frame'.

  `Master, we don't have one here. There is the large bed frame which
is used, but rarely.'

  `Get it.'

  The slave shouted and three others ran with him to the end of the
quarters and on the trot carried back a seven foot long bed frame, with
planks instead of springs or a mattress and four corner posts. The slaves
propped it against a wall and secured it to two hooks on the wall, so
that its base was about two feet from the wall.

  Bob Conrad came running in with the longer type of camel-cane.

  To the same slave I had addressed before, I said, `Tie him up,'
nodding in Jess Tollman's direction. I thought I could see Jess shaking.

  Jess walked over to the frame, slaves on either side of him, slaves who
before were his companions, but now to be the assistants of his Master in
his punishment. I saw him tremble and thought to myself that it was right
a slave should tremble physically before a Master, whom he had insulted
with his wanton and disrespectful behaviour.

  I could see goose-pimples on his arms and on his buttocks, though the
evening was by no means cold. Two old scars on his back were livid. He
raised his arms in silence and grasped the top of the frame while one of
the slaves kicked his ankles apart to the bottom posts of the frame.
Jess' head was bent forward, his chin almost on his chest, as if too
ashamed to keep it high. He would surely know and remember that the
number of slaves physically punished in my Palaces has almost been few
and being few, far between.

  Within two minutes, Jess' wrists were tied close to the top two
bedposts and his ankles to the bottom two. The knotted ropes firmly held
his bold in place, submissive to the punishment he was about to receive.

  `Count off twenty for everyone to hear.'

  `Boss, please, I'm sorry. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry.'

  The slave did not even know why he was going to be punished.

  `Not three glasses, not two glasses, not even one glass of alcohol,
slave, when you are driving me and my family.'

  `Boss, I'm sorry. Boss, I'm sorry. Please say my name. Don't just
call me `slave'. Boss. Please say my name.'

  I stood back, took off my jacket, flexed my arm muscle and aimed for
the shoulder blades of the slave with all my force. I am not an expert
flogger by any means. I lack that experience and training. But even a
novice with a four-foot cane can cause an impression. The slave's scream
bounced off the walls of the slave quarters.

  At times, such is the shock of a flogging that the slave can truly
forget to sound off the number. I held up one finger for his wide eyed
terror to see.

  `One, Boss, one. I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry, Boss.'

  At seven, I had broken flesh and a line of blood was trickling down the
slave's middle back like a bad line of paint.

  At nine, the slave pissed himself and at fourteen, he seemed to pass
out at the sheer fright of his personal punishment. There was no response
to the count.

  I nodded to one of the slaves who was standing by with a bucket of
water and it was poured over the slave on the bed frame.

  `Fourteen,' I prompted the slave.

  `Fourteen, Boss, fourteen,' he said hoarsely.

  My last six strokes were across the top of the buttocks which split at
nineteen and twenty.

  When I was finished I was drenched in sweat.

  `Tell Dumi Bod tomorrow morning that this slave is to be put on a
water-wheel.'

  Dumi is Head of Stables and looks after the slaves who work the farms
at the Lime Palace.

  Bob Conrad was looking at me eyes wide open.

  `Bob, get back to bed, unless you want to share being fucked with
young Terry tonight.'

  Bob is not overly fond of being fucked, so I smiled at him when he
diplomatically said,

  `Boss, Terry waited up for hours for you. I respectfully suggest, I
don't wish to presume, but he needs you tonight as much as you need him.
I won't get between the two of you.'

  `Very wise, Bob, very wise,' I said, as I handed him the bloodied
cane.

  I walked out leaving an even more bloodied and well-flogged Jess
Tollman on the frame. It would be a long time before he would drink and
drive me again.



  Terry Peoples was sitting on his haunches on the bed when I went in. He
jumped off the bed and started to go to display.

  `Master, your clothes. You're all wet. Let me get you out of those
clothes before you catch your death of cold.'

  I let the young catamite pamper me as he stripped off my clothes and as
he showered again with me, until I could no longer stand the stingingly
hot jet of water.

  When we were both dry, he said, `Master, let me do the work tonight.
Let me love you tonight for both Luke and me.'

  I lay back and let Terry do the work, until he was sitting on my
erection. Then I flipped him over and with his legs over his head almost
touching the headboard of the bed, I fucked him as hard and as fast as I
could. It was the physical release I needed after the flogging I had
administered. It was as if the blood of the slave had created a lust in
me that needed to be satiated, come what may.

  Spent, I collapsed on top of Terry and he rolled from underneath me.

  Putting his arms around me, he said one word, `Master', and I
remembered no more.



  As I ate breakfast on the veranda, I saw Jess Tollman being taken from
the slave quarters. The courtyard full of slaves having their morning
slave biscuits and water normally has a muted hum of conversation. It
dropped to utter silence as Jess limped between two Supervisors on his
way to his first day's punishment on the water-wheel. The weals on his
back were clearly visible and the three areas where the skin had broken
looked ugly. I heard the word 'drunk' being spoken somewhere and I let it
pass uncontradicted or unamended.



  In the aftermath of our Chilean bond marathon, business at the Bank had
returned to normal. My thoughts that day strayed more than once towards
David Tuttle, chaperoning his uncle and aunt along the coast of our small
territorially and tourist-wise insignificant desert Sheikdom. No doubt he
was making an effort to throw in more derricks and pipelines than sights
of the landscape's beauty, making them feel welcome and at the same time
subliminally trying to convey that after one has 'done' Dahra, there was
not really enough left to warrant a second visit.



  After a massage and swim in the late afternoon, I went to see how Jess
Tollman was doing on the water-wheel. Those who are so punished walk the
inside of the wheel and must produce a stated volume of water each day
for the water-gardens. The volume is clearly visible to the slave on a
large gauge by the wheel.

  When I arrived the slave was still treading the wheel. Another was
standing by the wheel trying to get him, pleading with him to stop and
come out. It was Jess Tollman's Ukrainian buddy Pavel Vaksman. As I
arrived so also did two other slaves, whom I recognised as Paulie and
Shawnie, the two who had sold him into captivity in the first place and
who up to yesterday were part of Jess' private team of slaves for
working in the Palaces.

  Jess Tollman seemed to be in some sort of trance.

  `Get him out,' I said to the two who had arrived and they quite
literally pulled the slave out of the water-wheel.

  White-spittle was caked on his lips and his eyes were focused on some
middle distance. He was muttering something over and over. I looked at
the gauge. He had done not only the quota for the day but a good
one-third above it.

  Shawnie was wiping Jess' face with a rag; Paulie was pouring water
down his throat with a mug that forms part of the utensils left at the
ground-level night shelter for the slave being punished.

  Jess was spluttering as the water was being poured into his mouth and
down his throat. Pavel had a container of Aloe sap opened up and was now
putting it over Jess' body. While it is good for sunburn, it also has a
healing property for open wounds and an anaesthetic quality on cuts or
pulled muscles.

  Shawnie turned to me.

  `What?' I said, as slaves do not speak first to a Master.

  `Master, he is repeating over and over again, `Boss, I'm sorry'.'

  Jess' three closest companions at the Palace continued to minister to
him and suddenly he seemed to know where he was again, recognised me and
came crawling over on his hands and knees on the sand.

  He lifted my foot and put it on the back of his neck. I let it rest
there for ten seconds, took it off and seeing that Pavel had brought him
two slave biscuits, I said, `Give the slave his food.'

  My words seemed to have landed like a blow on his back, because he
immediately came to my feet again and started to kiss my shoes.

  `Master, my name is Jess! Master, my name is Jess! Master, please
don't forget my name!'

  My secretary, Ben Trant's words came into my mind that what a slave
most craved was that the Master knew his name and loved him.

  I looked at Pavel with the two large biscuits in his hand. I could not
hold the grudge against a most abject slave prostrated before me.

  `Give Jess his two biscuits, Pavel. And you two,' I said to Shawnie
and Paulie, `get some more Aloe sap from the dispensary and see that he
is covered from head to toe with it, before you put him on his pallet for
the night,' as I indicated the ground-level pallet with its grey woollen
blanket.

  I left them to their devices and Jess to a night within sight of his
punishment wheel. I had him stay on the water-wheel for a further three
days.



  The following day a problem was still worrying me. Some things prey on
your mind. Others you can shelve with impunity, not giving them a thought
and, in five years time, without a qualm of conscience, take them down
off your mind's shelf, dust them down and use them as if time had stood
still. However, when gnawing doubt wakes you up at four in the morning,
enough is enough, and not even a warm slave beside you is sufficient to
long-finger needed action.

  With my two slaves for that particular night, Efim and Viktor, one
either side of me, I got through the following three hours lightly
playing with their balls, noting their erections, the oozing of precum
from their urethras until it woke them and they, in turn, went into a
number of sex techniques with me, for which I really must compliment
Frank Kovacs, or according to one of the slaves, Vitali Belov, who had
been his sex training mentor.

  Breakfast on the veranda saw me still in doubt and quandary, but the
beauty and simplicity of a small Astrophytum myriostigma, a small cactus
with its pale yellow dandelion-like flower in the middle of my breakfast
table, helped me make up my mind. The cactus commonly called Bishop's
Cap, because it takes the shape of a five-pointed ecclesiastic's biretta,
has no spines or spikes. That is what I needed: no spines, no spikes.

  I looked up from my breakfast and saw Igor and Basili, the causes of my
daily change of table cactus grinning at me over the rail of the veranda.
I gave them the thumbs up sign and Basili gave Igor a good-natured dig in
the ribs as they scampered off to their work, as if to say 'Now, I told
you the Boss would like it'. And like it, I did, as it provided me with
the solution to the problem annoying my mind.

  I called out, 'Ben', and my secretary came running. I was looking at a
piece of toast going cold on the plate.

  'Ben, with marmalade or without marmalade?' I asked looking at the
toast.

  'With marmalade, Boss, and if you are going to be angry or mad, please
tell me in advance.'

  'Neither angry or mad, just clearing some thoughts. Open wide.'

  Ben knows me by now and that inconsequential thoughts of mine can lead
anywhere. Anyway, I popped a piece of toast into Ben's mouth.

  'Should a Master do the predictable or the unpredictable, Ben?'

  Ben was between chews and took his time in answering, as I am quite
sure that he knew his answer was not to be the end of the conversation.

  Finally, he said, 'a Master should be unpredictable on issues of toast
and marmalade, but on all major issues he should be predictable, so that
we all know where the Master is going.'

  The one thing about Ben Trant is that he will always give you an honest
answer as he cannot tell a lie, or at least, has never done so to date.

  'I agree, Ben. Find me Greg Logan.'

  Greg is my assistant Retrainer.



  Greg Logan arrived at a canter.

  'Sorry, Boss, I was the other side of the Palace with Dumi. He has a
little problem with one of his assigned slaves and I'll have the slave
sorted out by tomorrow, Boss.'

  'No, you won't, Greg. Strip.'

  Greg's eyes locked with mine for a split second and quite literally, in
two seconds, he was dropping his khaki shorts to the ground.

  'I'm sending you to the opal mine.'

  Shock registered in his face. The six foot three frame of an
ex-commando was in perfect condition

  'Ben, what do you think of Greg' body?'

  Ben Trant usually is at my side on his knees when other slaves are
present in order to get me any document or file I may need.

  'His body is beautiful, Master. I only wish I had his abs and pecs.'

  'Ben, you can also lie by omission.'

  'Yes, Master, I also wish I had his cock,' he replied wistfully.

  Greg's cock at the worst of times when flaccid is a good ten inches and
when erect is a joy to behold.

  Too much joy can only lead to ecstasy!

  'And what do you think of his reliability and obedience.'

  'Just about perfect, Master.'

  'Greg, pull up your shorts.'

  'Yes, Boss,' he said still in shock and uncertain where matters were
going. I put him out of his misery quickly.



  'Greg, I have purchased an opal mine from Farouq al-Hamdi. It has a
general manager, Zabian al-Kibbe, and he will stay on and continue to run
it for me. But I need someone there for a time on a particular project
for me. I want you to be that someone.'

  Greg was breathing deeply, finally he answered 'Okay, Boss, just as
soon as I can get my balls to drop down again. I thought for a split
second that I had really fucked up on something and you were sending me
to a mine as a... you know...'

  'Greg, please, would I waste a talent like yours, to say nothing of a
body like yours?'

  Greg was still breathing deeply.

  'Ben, open my briefcase. You will find two sets of documents there and
two computer disks. You will get more detailed ones when they are sent to
me. The first set refers to the opal mine purchase, input the data on to
the computer system with Gianni and then file it away safely. The second
set of documents--give them to Greg--refers to the problem we had
recently.'

  Both slaves were looking at me, not understanding, but sure in the
knowledge that the answers lay on the disks.

  'We were on alert for over a fortnight as you already know. It referred
to a tip-off that there would be trouble, but I was not told what type of
trouble.'

  I had the full and undivided attention of both slaves.

  'Dahra was invaded by over a hundred mercenaries led by the Sheik's
cousin--a madman. All but forty two of the mercenaries were killed.
Instead of executing these remaining forty two, the Courts have granted
them clemency from immediate beheading on condition that I take the
entire forty two of them as slaves.'

  'Master,' Ben said in horror, 'you're saying they are trained
mercenaries. They could kill us all.'

  'Not, Ben, if they will be working in an opal mine in the middle of the
Seventh Desert eighty or so miles away. At the same time they will be
under constant retraining by the Overseers there and also having their
progress reviewed by Greg here, as an assistant of the Retrainer. They
will not be a danger to us,' I said looking at him and at Greg.

  'How long, Ben, did Greg take to shuck down his pants, at what seemed a
senseless order?'

  'Less than two seconds, Boss.'

  'That Ben is the type of obedience I want from these forty two after a
year. Are you up to the challenge, Greg?' I asked looking at my assistant
retrainer.

  'Boss, you have nothing to worry about. If I have problem, I shall sort
it out. If I can't, I'll immediately ask advice from Niko or Rob, as
indeed from Jess.'

  He looked at me when he mentioned Jess's name and I appreciated his
loyalty to his Jess Tollman, his deputy assistant retrainer, who had
disgraced himself in my eyes by drinking and driving. The other two were
the two Afrikaners in charge of the training compounds at the Lemon
Palace.

  'Greg, you have my full authority. Don't get in Zabian's way in the
running of the mine. Zabian's job is not to supervise those who work at
the mine. It is to look after the business of the mine and to keep it
working to maximum profitability. He will have his own security people
there, but I have given my word to the powers that be that these slaves
will be closely monitored, and that is where you come in, Greg. You do
what you have to do with those forty two. They will have Overseers on
their backs I can tell you, but I want to see what you can observe and
also see what you can learn from the mine operation, particularly the
security end of things, that we might apply here as well. Let me have
reports on each of them every fortnight. And deal with Zabian al-Kibbe as
you would with me. He knows everything about mining. You know more about
military matters than he. You have trained a great number slaves since I
bought you four years ago. Zabian al-Kibbe and his Overseers been
supervising slaves for many years. Also, ask Jens if he can give you a
programme to simplify matters for you.'

  'Boss, I won't let you down.'

  He knelt down and was going to kiss my feet as he had not given me an
obeisance that morning, but I merely held out my hand for his lips to
kiss, and I rubbed his short crew cut hair, a little noogie to show my
affection for him. I thought I saw a glint of pride in Greg's eyes at
being given a project to manage and a problem to solve by his Master.



  'Ben, make sure those computer disks which have all the records of the
opal mine slaves and these mercenaries are fully incorporated into our
systems. Greg and I are going to go over the individual dossiers.'

  'Yes, Boss, leave it to me. I'll have the team make a start on
inputting the new data.'

  One of the good things about Ben Trant and his secretarial team was
that I could do just that and not have to worry about it afterwards.

  'Greg, take your time to read those individual dossiers, and come to
see me after dinner tonight.'



  In the evening he was back, the stack of files in his hands. We went
into the sitting room, and I pointed to a couch and called for my Head of
Serving Staff.

  Bob Conrad arrived out of the kitchens.

  'Bob, a pitcher of your lime-juice.'

  'Yes, Boss, immediately.'

  'Greg, before coming to Dahra what did you drink?'

  'Carlsberg and a scotch chaser, Master.'

  'Bob, a couple of cans of Carlsberg and a bottle of scotch.'

  'Yes, Boss, immediately.'

  Had I asked for some arcane beer or a rare single malt, I am sure that
Bob would have it in the cellars of the Palace, such was his efficiency.

  Greg Logan was looking at me oddly.

  'Master, this is a difficult situation for me. Please, tell me if you
want me to drink?'

  I knew the question he was not asking.

  'I don't hold you responsible for Jess,' I said. 'He makes his own
mistakes; he must learn his lesson. I have no doubt that he will learn
it. This has nothing to do with him. You have my official permission to
get soused. We might as well sort out this bunch of former mercenaries in
style.'

  'I'll toast to that, Boss,' he said with a grin.

  Greg Logan and I worked our way through the forty two folders. From
what could be gleaned, each of the mercenaries who had survived the
invasion of Dahra had been given a SIN -- slave identification number on
the sole of their right foot. I noted that they were all uneven numbers
as if they had come through the port of al-Qatim. What connection had
Ahmed al-Atti, the owner of the slave processing facilities at al-Qatim
with the powers that be, I wondered?

  The forty two had private contracts with the hiring company on behalf
of the Sheik's cousin. Each had been given a month's salary in advance
and was to have been given the equivalent of a further three months'
mercenary salary for what was to be ten days' invasion work at the
outside--for those who lived to collect it. As only around twenty percent
of the invasion force had survived, it had been a win-win financial
situation for the hiring company.

  The ages of these forty two ranged from forty one years down to twenty
three. They all had been in various armies or militias, and all had
undertaken previous operations. Even their photos taken after their
capture showed them as hard-faced, hard-jawed, hard-chested, hardened
soldiers.

  'These forty two have to serve out the rest of their lives as slaves,
Greg, and I have suggested the opal mine to the authorities as the venue.
I want you to ensure that they are broken in as obedient and hard-working
labour force. The Overseers will do the donkey work. You tell me each
fortnight what else has to be done. The opal mine normally takes in about
three or four slaves a month, but from what I am told it has never taken
in a batch this large.'

  Greg nodded his understanding of what I was saying.

  'Another thing, all these slaves have been half-gelded at the
dealership.'

  'Boss, the half-gelding is a very good idea. If I lost a ball, I would
never, ever do anything to risk losing the other.'

  I was looking at a new side of Greg Logan that I had not realised was
there. Utter and ruthless efficiency. Greg had finished the two
Carlsberg. I poured him a generous scotch.

  'According to Zabian, a number of slaves have already been at the opal
mine for almost five years. If you need help, you can choose from among
these slaves. They are hardened slaves who know all the slave secrets of
the mine, what is done and what is not. You can tell them, if they help
in any way in keeping the new slaves in line making them totally
obedient, they will be assigned to a new job out of the opal mine at the
end of six months.'

  'Boss, everything you say will be done. But Boss, can we stop a while?
The beer, even though it was only two Carlsberg has already gone to my
head. I don't know how long it has been since I had such great beer,
certainly over four years.'

  Greg Logan sipped his chaser and then another which I also poured him.
Alcohol can have a strong effect when it has not been taken over a long
period. When we finished talking, Greg just closed his eyes, smiled as if
at some pleasant thought, and was asleep. I had Bob bring a blanket to
cover him on the couch where he slept like a baby.



  On the final and fifth day, when he was brought before me by the
overseeing Supervisor in the evening--our punishments always end at four
o'clock for some reason--Jess Tollman was a much chastened slave. I
dismissed the Supervisor and I told Jess to turn round. The weals had
disappeared. Two of the strokes which had drawn blood still showed where
the skin was broken, but it no longer looked ugly.

  `Jess, let this be the first and the last lesson. I know your name.'

  He dropped to his knees. His eyes were on a level with me in my sitting
position. I thought he was about to cry.

  `Do you want to be assistant Supervisor again?'

  `Bo. . Master, I only want to serve you. I never meant for you to be
offended, or to put your life or your family's life in danger. I am more
sorry than you will ever know.'

  `It seems Jess that a good flogging and four days on the water-wheel
have changed your attitude.'

  `Bo. . Master, all of that was nothing. I could take all of that, the
pain of the flogging, the pain of treading the wheel. What I could not
take was that you did not say my name. You can take everything else away,
Master, but please remember my name and that I love you.'

  `Jess, you are my slave. Now come here.'

  I held open my arms and the slave came to be embraced.

  `Do you know that Shawnie and Paulie, each offered to do your
remaining days on the water-wheel and that Pavel asked to be with you
each night? You mean a lot to the slaves, Jess and you mean a lot to me.
You are the first Supervisor I have really had to punish. I hope you are
the last.'

  `Master, I am here to serve you.'

  `As for driving me in the car...' I looked at the slave's face and
knew the enjoyment that he extracted out of that privilege, `you'll
find that Pavel has pressed your uniform and you'll find it in your
room.'

  `Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master.'

  `And Jess, make sure the Rolls is well polished for this evening, when
you drive me up the road to one of the neighbours for dinner.

  `Yes, Master.'

  There is nothing quite like a sincerely repentant slave. It was a
further two weeks before I let him call me `Boss', as my very first
slaves did. It was a small privilege that he had to earn again.

End of Chapter 9

To be continued...