Date: Wed, 10 Dec 2003 19:40:44 +0000
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Special Memories - Chapter 13 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the thirteenth 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.

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if
this material is unlawful for you to read where your
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

The Special Memories by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 13 - The Driver

One of the good things I like about the al-Qatim slave market, the nearer
of the two in Dahra to the capital city, is that it is usually on a
Thursday, the last day of the Dahran week. So a leisurely drive back
afterwards to the Palace, albeit of just under two hours, is pleasant and
relaxing.

As there was a bit of a crush so to speak coming out of the auction-rooms
not all the cars and limousines could drive up to the front door, so I
walked over toward the limousine and Faisal, my driver, or more precisely
the Bank's permanent driver.

His back was to me as he was polishing an already highly polished chrome
mudguard and half-whistling away to himself and I was on top of him
before he became aware of my presence.

'Faisal, you're very happy this afternoon. Looking forward to the
weekend?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan, I am,' and adding almost as an afterthought, he said,
'I am getting married tomorrow.'

It is curious how we do not attribute other outside lives or activities
to those with whom we work, but rather see them in the limited functions
of the workplace.

'Faisal, I did not know. No one told me. May I offer you my heartiest
congratulations!'

'Thank you, Sir Jonathan,' and he held the door of the car for me to get
in.

I usually read the Bank's world-branches' reports as I go to and from
work and did not change the habit that day, but when I got back home, I
asked Faisal to follow me in to the study. He seemed nervous in the cool
air of what essentially was my office in the Palace, a large and
comfortable room with my files and cabinets.

'I am sorry, Faisal, I did not know of your wedding. I have not even
gotten you a present. When were you going to tell me? Please, sit down.'

'On Sunday, Sir Jonathan, on the way to work.'

Faisal looked decidedly uncomfortable sitting down, particularly when I
was on my feet over by the windows.

'And are you not taking a honeymoon?'

I knew all staff from post-boy to general manager had at least twenty
five days vacation time per year.

'No, Sir Jonathan, my Kismet and I are saving for a new apartment.'

'Ah. So you will want to live where?'

'That was what I was going to talk to you about on Sunday, Sir Jonathan.
The apartments we are looking at are near the port.'

There was something at the back of my mind about the Sheikdom paying half
the price of an apartment to a newly married couple.

'So you would not then be able to live here at the Palace anymore during
the week?'

'No, Sir Jonathan, that is the problem. I was going to tell you, but did
not know how to.'

The driver had an apartment here at the Palace among the overseers and
also had a body slave, one of the Chechens, to look after him and it. The
arrangement had clearly not affected his main sexual orientation.

'Well, first and foremost, Faisal, you are on holidays for the next
fortnight, plus a booking into a hotel in Bahrain for yourself and
Kismet. That will be a wedding present from the Bank.'

Faisal made, as if to get up or interrupt, but I waved him back down into
his seat.

'And the apartments that you are looking at, I presume you mean that
Kismet is looking at,' and we both laughed

'How much do they cost?'

Faisal looked at me, swallowed and said the price, which came out about
one hundred and eighty thousand euro.

'And the government gives how much to the newly weds?'

'Half the price, Sir Jonathan.'

Ah!, I thought to myself, there was indeed a government subvention.

'So from your savings you must pay the other half?

'We are arranging a mortgage, Sir Jonathan, and it is the custom here
Dahra at weddings that the guests give little envelopes to the bride and
groom. So that will also help.'

A rather Sicilian way of doing things, I thought as I reflected on
godfathers and crime bosses and the like.

I really like Faisal. He had been at the Bank's Villa in the capital city
when I first arrived. He had been kind to Yuriy, my first slave and now
the head of my stables. I had never known him to miss a day and while I
was at the Bank, he was invariably going around Dahra delivering
documents and bonds, which could have bought and sold his humble
apartment many a time over and beyond.

'You will not be offended then, Faisal, if I too can give you and your
bride a cheque. In my country, originally, we gave nice presents; now it
has deteriorated into presents from wedding shops. It would be much
easier if my present can be a cheque to you and Kismet.'

'Please, Sir Jonathan, that is not necessary at all.'

I again waved him back into his seat as he was again getting up and
sitting down at my desk, I drew him a cheque for the other half of the
price of his apartment.

When he saw the figure, he burst into tears and just kept his chin on his
chest. When he had composed himself, he merely said, rather hoarsely,
'Thank you, Sir Jonathan, on behalf of Kismet and myself. Thank you.'

'Faisal. That's the wedding present out of the way. Now what do we do
about a driver from Sunday onwards?'

Faisal seemed to be thinking to himself and finally said, 'I was going to
speak next with Mr. Ahlson about that, Sir Jonathan, because I may know
someone.'

'Yes?'

'He is my eldest brother's third son.'

'Your nephew?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan?'

'And apart from being your nephew, why would you recommend him?'

'He drives a taxi-cab in the capital city, Sir Jonathan, and he might
enjoy living here at the Lime Palace as I have done.'

Faisal must have seen a question mark somewhere on my brow, because he
continued, 'he is not likely to marry, Sir Jonathan,' and he looked at
the floor, as if he had said too much already.

'In simple language, Faisal, are you saying that he does not like women
and prefers men?'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan.'

I let silence descend and settle in the study.

Finally, I decided and said, 'What's your nephew's name?'

'Faisal, Sir Jonathan, like myself. He was named after me.'

'Well ask Faisal to come and see me tomorrow afternoon, if he is
interested in the job and in living here at the Lime Palace in your
apartment.'

'Yes, Sir Jonathan.'

'And one last thing, Faisal, my gift to you is not just for your wedding,
it is for your loyalty to me since I have been here and your discretion
about the Lime Palace, which is home -- a safe haven - to all of those of
us who live here.'

'I understand, Sir Jonathan, you will always command my total loyalty'.



When Faisal had gone, I called Gustav Ahlson and filled him in and had
him make a note of the hotel and airline booking for the betrothed couple
to Bahrain. When asked what could Faisal do at the Bank if not driving,
Gustav said there would be no problem in fitting him into another
function.

'And if this new Faisal is okay?' I asked.

'Then, hire him, Jonathan, hire him.'

Gustav was always to the point, if anything.

'Yes, General Manager, sir'.

As I walked out into the courtyard, I happened to bump into Dumi, the
stables manager, as he headed for the slaves' quarters and I told him he
would have three new water-guys coming that evening, `perhaps not the
best, but trustfully they will do.'

'Master, Yuriy and I asked for three slaves on Monday and by Thursday, we
have them. What more can I ask for?' he said with a smile.

That was one of the things I liked about Dumi, his total ability to
accept the reality of situations.

'Have you six buddies who are free to take them in hand this evening?

'No problem, Master. I'll get six to be standing by immediately.'

'Dumi, are you and Rolf happy?' Rolf my gym-Master is his buddy.

Dumi did not even reply, but just curled one index finger in the other
and held them up for me to see.

'Like that, eh Dumi?'

'Like that, Master.'

It must have been a bit daunting for the three new slaves to arrive just
as almost six hundred slaves were assembling for their evening meal in
the courtyard of the Lime Palace. But Dumi was to hand to sign receipt
for the three and their files and the three were brought in to be shit,
shaved, showered, douched and given a haircut. Their medicals would wait
until the morning.

As the evening meal finished, the three were brought out and given two
slave-biscuits each, together with a bowl of vegetable soup, which they
devoured and as much water as they wanted to drink. The three ate as I
attended to various requests from some of the slaves, mainly that evening
to change buddies as their thirty days with their existing buddies were
up.

I don't think the three new slaves had actually seen me sitting to the
back of the veranda, so there was something of a shock on the faces of
Gary and Donnie when they saw who their new Master was. The third slave
-- the carrot-head - had not really seen me I thought at the auction
rooms.

Though it was not actually necessary for the buddy slaves of new arrivals
to make a full obeisance, they did so in order that the new arrivals
would know what to do, which in fact the three newbies did well, if a
little awkwardly and then just stayed kneeling before me.

Looking at Gary, who looked rather well out of the strained atmosphere of
the auction rooms and who like the others just had his hands resting on
his thighs, his cock at half-mast, neither fully erect nor fully flaccid,
I said 'well, are you satisfied?'

'You've bought the three of us, sir?'

'Yes. And the correct title here is Master. I am the Master of the Lime
Palace.'

'Thank you, Master,' he replied and looking at each of the others, with a
jerk of the head he indicated that they should reply likewise, which they
did.

'So you're the ringleader here, Gary, are you? You invite your pals on
holiday, get yourself and them kidnapped and now enslaved. Have I missed
out on anything?'

He shook his head and said, 'No, Master.'

At that, Donnie started to cry quietly to himself, which I chose to
ignore and Justin moved toward him to comfort him.

'Over the next thirty days, you will be instructed by your two buddies
who have been assigned to each of you, how to do your duties here on the
farm. A number of these will be strange to you. Simply do them
immediately and without question. In time, things will become clearer to
you.'

'You will also be given part of the retraining programme tomorrow and
shown what punishments you can expect for disobedience. You will be
trained to accept my authority and that of my overseers and what I shall
be looking for at the end of all of this is your absolutely total
submission to me as your Master and your total loyalty to me as your
owner. Any questions you have will be answered by your buddies as your
training gets underway.'

'One other thing, I usually take a slave to bed each night. Which of you
wants to be the first?'

Justin went white. Donnie's tears just continued to run down his cheeks.

'Gary, I think you're it. Wouldn't you say?'

I could see his Adam's apple jump and he wet his lips as he replied very
quietly, 'Yes, Master.'



Without any of the three new slaves having been tested for diseases, none
of them would have penetrative sex from their buddies that evening and in
Arabic, I reminded the buddies of just that. Dismissing Gary's two
buddies, I beckoned Gary to follow me to my bedroom suite. Komil my
personal slave padded in behind us.

'Have you ever had sex with a man, Gary.'

'No, Master, definitely not.'

'Not even a bit of groping in the showers, or army ass-grabbing when
getting into your kit.'

'A little bit of horseplay, Master, but nothing serious.'

'How long do you think you can protect those two pals of yours? Is that
what you were up to?'

And here again, I was struck by the rapid assessment that Gary was able
to give of a situation.

'As long as you allow me to, Master.'

'Are you saying that you are giving me here and now your total obedience
and loyalty?'

'If that loyalty to you, sir, will allow me protect my friends, yes,
Master.'

'And if having my protection, they have no longer need your own?'

'Then, Master, I will do anything you want of me, day or night.'

And he let 'night' float on the warm air of the bedroom.

'The dealer tells me you have a lot of spunk and can shoot quite a
distance.'

At that comment, Gary reddened around the gills, but he did reply 'Yes,
Master.'

'Come into the shower area and show me.'

Without a second hesitation, Gary followed me into the shower. I crossed
my arms, stood back and looked at his now trimmed crotch area. Slowly,
his right hand went down to his ever-erect cock and he started to
masturbate.

Knowing how difficult it can be for anyone to perform such a private act
on demand, I was somewhat surprise that at thirty or so strokes into his
jerking off, the flood reaction started which every man knows as
unstoppable and Gary the army squaddie's ejaculations hit the walls of
the shower in five or six sizeable hits. He stopped and his chest was
heaving.

'Take a good shower, clean yourself up and come into bed for the good
bit,' and I put a towel on a hook beside the shower.

Five minutes later Gary was lying beside me on the bed.

'Have you ever kissed a guy, Gary?

'No, Master.'

'Do you want to give it a try?'

He swallowed hard and bringing his face close to mine, closed his eyes,
his sealed lips touched my lips and pulled away quickly, as if he had
been burned.

'Gary, do you call that a goodnight kiss? If so, you are going to have to
learn a lot here at the Lime Palace. Now go to sleep. You've had enough
excitement for one day.'

He looked thoroughly confused.

'You mean, Master...you mean you're not going to...?' -- the question
petered out.

'Don't ask half questions, Gary. Say what you want to say again fully and
clearly.'

'Master, are you not going to fuck me?'

'No, not tonight. Only when you are ready for it. I said, every night I
take a slave to bed. That does not mean that every night I fuck a slave,
many nights I do. But I have never yet taken a slave who does not know
even how to kiss. I think I am going to have you practice kissing on
Donnie and Justie whichever you find the sexier.'

'Master, I really don't understand.'

'Good. That's what your buddies will explain to you over the next days.
Now, spoon up in front of me. I sleep in the middle and Komil will spoon
up behind me. And having come as much as did just now in the shower, I
would say you will sleep well. Now, go to sleep.'

Within two minutes Gary, the former squaddie, after his ejaculations in
the shower, was breathing deeply in quiet sleep and Komil had come up
behind me, licked my neck a little bit and warmly spooned me from behind.

I drifted off to sleep thinking that none of my slaves had ever given me
their submission and loyalty so quickly and freely as Gary and I wondered
how many people, freemen or slaves, had such a good and loyal friend as
he was to his two pals.

The following morning a blue cab pulled into the courtyard and the driver
got out to be met by the Chechen slave attendant who looked after Faisal,
my driver and whom I had on standby for the arrival of his nephew. His
instructions were to show this younger Faisal round the apartment that
was allocated to the Bank's driver and then to have him brought in to see
me.

To be honest, when introduced to him, I could not see a family
resemblance, but as the young Faisal was not sporting a moustache or any
facial hair, unlike the older Faisal's military style one, I could be
forgiven.

I do not normally conduct interviews for paid personnel and had not done
so since the recruiting of the medical staff. I had deeply regretted
doing it in the case of the eye-doctor, though if the truth be told, at
the end of the day, my hiring of Nacho Cuesta was inspired, even if I say
so myself.

Faisal, the nephew cab-driver, was dressed in a western style shirt and
pants, which in a way matched his lack of facial hair.



I had thought about this interview and had a couple of cards up my
sleeve, if they were required.

What first impressed me was that Faisal's handshake was firm and it was
dry, apart from the rising heat of the day. Secondly, he was reasonably
dressed and groomed for an interview. Thirdly, he had been on time and
lastly, he had presented me with a one page résumé of his career to-date.

As far as I could make out, he had finished the equivalent of the local
high-school, ten years previously, but not with any great results. He had
worked part-time in a number of jobs for three years, then as a second
night-time driver on a cab doing the airport-city run for two years and
for the past five, he was the owner of his own cab.

'Why, Faisal, do you want to work for me as a driver?'

'My uncle, sir, always speaks well of the Bank and of you, sir. And he
says it is a good job.'

'But you are self-employed, your own boss, Faisal. You do what you want,
when you want.'

`Sir, I work twelve hours a day driving in the capital city. My cab is
last year's model and I must work at least seventy hours a week, to pay
myself, make the repayments -- though they are small - on the cab and pay
something each week to my parents.'

'How would this job be better for you in say five years' time?'

'I would have had a constant wage, no outlay on an apartment, or to my
parents for staying at home. I could save some money.'

'Are you gay, Faisal?'

Such a question would never be allowed in a number of European countries.
But here I asked it outright to see the reaction.

He put his chin up and said, 'yes sir, I am.'

'How do you live as a gay in Dahra, which is not particularly gay?'

'Very discretely, sir.'

Dahra, in its traditions, customs and public morals, I knew, did not
allow public demonstration of sex between two men and was in the wrong
position both geographically and historically for any form of deviation
from the norm. Being on the Gulf between and surrounded by more
traditional States, the erotic interest between men is totally private
outside the family structure, though with family slaves it is allowed,
but not vaunted abroad and the erotic interest in women is part of the
general culture of males, but in both city and hinterland country limited
to married bedrooms.

Polygamy with up to four wives for Dahra is common. The Sheik himself had
shrewdly married a wife from each of the four principal tribes.
Additionally, I had heard that in the harem of his Palace, where the
female members of his family and the children lived, there were allegedly
and I say allegedly, over fifty concubines forming alliances with the
minor villages and towns.

But as for gay sex, that was generally taboo between free Dahrans.

'Do you have a regular partner?' I asked Faisal outright.

'No, Sir.'

'Are you clean and negative?'

His answer was quick, so it was clear that he knew what I was talking
about.

'Yes, sir, I am clean and I am negative.'

'Okay, Faisal. It's getting very warm. Let's go for a swim.'

'I haven't brought any swimming trunks, sir.'

I looked at him.

'Will that bother you?'

He swallowed and said 'no, sir.'



We walked across the veranda and into the pool area. It was too early for
the slaves to be there. They would have been doing either some indoor
work on account of the heat outside, or be in English, or Arabic classes.

However, Rolf the gym Master was there as was Vitali, my own masseur, as
I had previously instructed. Also to hand, though now Aziz's slaves,
were Jiri and Ali, being the swimming pool slaves as I termed them, who
all made a full obeisance.

Faisal looked at the naked four, whom I must admit looked very fit and
well, with nice all-over tans and a lean and rangy look about them and I
saw him swallowing hard again.

I stripped off and Faisal followed suit. He had a lighter band of flesh
around his waist and obviously did not sunbathe that frequently in the
nude, but he looked quite fit for a non-athlete.

'Rolf, will you pace us for a couple of lengths in the pool.'

'I don't swim very well, Sir Jonathan,' Faisal said.

'Nor I, Faisal, so don't worry. Rolf will do two lengths for every one we
do.'

Faisal started to do his own version of a crawl, which was a lot of
muscle power, but little technique. I contented myself with a calm
breaststroke just to be able to see when Faisal exhausted himself.

Rolf was off like a dolphin and by the time Faisal and I had done four
lengths, Rolf had complete twelve and was resting his chin of the side of
the pool, grinning like a Cheshire cat, at my feeble efforts.

'Master, you need to do a lot more swimming.'

'What I need now, Rolf, is a good massage,' I got out of the pool.

'Faisal, get up on that other table and Jiri and Ali will look after your
massage, while Vitali gives me one.'

Oh, what devious creatures we are at times!

Jiri, who had done some massage techniques with Vitali, was flexing his
fingers in and out like a concert pianist before a recital. Ali was just
smiling in the direction of Faisal.

I went up on my massage table and was soon seeing fleecy clouds as Vitali
undid one by one my body's totality of Gordian knots after a tough week
at the Bank and used one of his elbows mercilessly down every single
lumbar joint on my spine.

I was trying to keep an open eye on Faisal to see if Jiri and Ali were
following their instructions. He was lying on his back and they were
putting oil on his body. His first groan was barely audible, but there it
was. Good man, Jiri! Or should that have been, `good man, Ali!'

Vitali had been primed to let me know of anything interesting happening
on the table next to me, when, not if, it arose, particularly in the
perpendicular. So I just closed my eyes and drifted off into space and
Vitali's fingers worked their magic.

Various stifled groans came from time to time from the table to my left
and at one point when I opened my eyes, all I could see were Jiri's hips
over Faisal's head as he massaged oil into Faisal's upper body. But that
surely was not enough to cause the stifled groans. I did not wish to
appear impolite and gawk at what Ali might be doing south of the equator.

Then Vitali whispered in my ear with half a chuckle, 'flagpole waving in
the air, Master.'

Then I heard Jiri telling Faisal to turn over and there was quiet as oil
was massaged into his back.

I said, 'that's enough for me. I'm going into the sauna. Vitali help Jiri
and Ali. Faisal's leg muscles must be really tired after all his driving
this week. Come into the sauna, Faisal when they finished with you.'

And I left my team to concentrate on the fly who was now firmly in the
spider's web.

Vitali took over the massage of Faisal's upper back as instructed and the
other two went to work on his legs, particularly the soles of his feet,
between his toes, the back of knees and the inner thighs right up to the
cleft with his rounded buttocks.

Vitali told me later that Faisal started to whimper with pleasure after
about three minutes and could not contain his groans. These became
incessant then Jiri slipped a hand between Faisal's thighs, cupped his
balls and raised his buttocks up, so that Ali's main target could be
revealed as a tight, but not too virginal, slightly wrinkled, pale brown
butt hole, which Ali proceeded to tongue as he only knew how.

Though Faisal may have been all of twenty eight, he was no match for a
master in the science of rimming such as Ali and as he shot the first of
a number of loads, he opened his mouth to gasp, only to find that
Vitali's member was erect and now going into his mouth.

Jiri's hands were meantime keeping unrelenting touches to Faisal's
circumcised glans and to the sensitive fraenulum attached to its head.
Jiri's thumb technique of circular motion on the fraenulum, if you have
never experienced it, well, it simply cannot be described in mere mortal
words. I have tried at times to verbalise Jiri's touches and words such
as out of this world, heavenly, divine, come close to describing the
sensations, which only Jiri can provoke and produce.

As Faisal shot his eight or ninth strand of cum onto the brown leather of
the massage table, Vitali took mercy on his throat, which had been
receiving all of Vitali's thin and long inches. A blast of Vitali's semen
onto the back of Faisal's throat produced the final strangled cry of
pleasure.

Before Faisal was allowed up off the table, Jiri applied some cream to
his butt hole, 'to take away any pain' he had been instructed to say, but
with his fingers he worked the cream in and around the sphincter muscle.

'The Master is waiting for you in the sauna, Faisal. Better not keep him
waiting too long,' Vitali said.

Faisal made it to the door of the sauna unsteadily, but unaided. I had
the sauna set to 'low' so it was just nice and warm but certainly not
hot.

'Ah, there you are, Faisal. I though you had gotten lost. How did you
like the second part of the interview with my slaves?'

Fair dues to him, he made a valiant effort to reply, but was not very
coherently. One of the great things about a sauna, is that nobody has any
place to pin their medals. You are as simply you are, or not at all.

'Over you come here, Faisal and lie up on this towel on your stomach and
let the heat do its work. The heat is just nice and not at all hot. Did
Vitali work all those knots out of your system? How was Jiri on your
legs? And don't tell me, I'll bet that Ali worked a little of his magic
on you as well.'

Faisal was croaking his replies, as he lay down on the towel. His member
was flaccid, but the heat of the sauna was keeping its girth at a nice
thickness.

'So, Faisal, do you think you would like to work for me as my driver?'

'Yes, sir'.

'And be available to me at all hours, even at weekends?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Like now, Faisal?' and I patted his perspiring buttocks.

'Now, sir?'

'Yes, Faisal, now.'

'Yes, sir, but I don't think I could manage anything for a while.'

'Well, then why don't you just relax and let me try and do something for
you.'

'Yes, sir, anything you like.'

I rode Faisal, the new driver, for over twenty minutes. The warmth of the
sauna did not allow for more and the perspiration running off me was
finally what obliged me to stop. He was no virgin, but on the other had,
he had not been used a lot.

I targeted my penetrating attacks solely and utterly on his prostate, not
attempting to deep penetrate him, but rather just hit it as many times as
I could on the way in as indeed, on the way out.

His buttock rose to meet my final minutes when his groans filled the
sauna and I could see a small pool of sweat in the middle of his back. I
do not know how many further times he shot, because he was on a towel and
the towel absorbed his ejaculations.

When I finished and was utterly spent myself, I asked him if he was okay.

'Yes, sir. Definitely, sir.'

'Do you still want the job as my driver starting tomorrow?'

'Yes, sir. Indeed.'

'Have you any questions you would like to ask?'

'Does this, sir,' and he swallowed hard, 'does this form part of my
regular duties?'

'No, Faisal, only when you have performed your regular duties,
exceptionally well. Your uncle may or may not have informed you, but you
will have your own slave here of your own choosing, to look after you and
your apartment. And he will form part of your regular duties. Do you
understand? You met the slave who looked after your uncle. If you wish,
he will be your slave. If not, another will be found for you.'

Our sauna finished quickly after that, or maybe it was that the sauna had
finished us both off. Without appearing to be in a hurry, Faisal in fact
was in one, as he had to get back to the capital city for the wedding of
his uncle. On his departure, I wished him an enjoyable evening at his
uncle's wedding and I would see him first thing in the morning.

The following morning, it was in a way a shame to miss the older Faisal,
but the younger Faisal looked resplendent in his driver's uniform.

As I flicked away an imaginary speck of dust from the collar of his
shirt, I said, 'Welcome, Faisal to the Lime Palace, my home and from now
on, your home.'

He smiled a much relaxed smile and said, 'Thank you, Sir Jonathan.'

I never bedded Faisal after that one experience with him. He chose
another one of the Chechens as his apartment slave and by all accounts
they pleasured each other, as far as was reported to me by the Chechen,
long and hard into the Dahran nights.



End of Chapter 13