Date: Sat, 09 Aug 2003 14:29:34 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Changed Life - Chapter 20

This is the 20th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of
novels of gay sex.

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

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

The Changed Life by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 20 -- Jess

It was well into September when Tariq al-Akhri rang me
at the Bank. I had not actually seen him in almost two
months. He had been away for the hot months of July and
August with his extended family in Spain and then in
England. I had seen a couple of mentions of him in the
various financial papers.

`Tariq, delighted to hear from you. All is well?'

`Jonathan, all is fine. Spain was warm. England
beautiful as ever. I took some of my sons down through
the heart of the country and visited the names that they
only knew as places on a map, Oxford and Cambridge,
Derby and I don't know how many more places. We even
visited Stratford-on-Avon!' and he laughed pleasantly at
the memories.

`Jonathan, I do have a small favour to ask.'

`Tariq, you just have to say. The Bank is at your
orders.'

`No, no, it not a Bank matter. It is more a personal
request. When are you at home this evening?'

I stated any time after 5 in the evening, as I usually
left the Bank at four, it being about an hour's straight
drive out to the Aloe Palace.

`But you don't have to drive out to me, I can go and see
you, now or later, or whenever you wish.'

`No, no, shall we say six o'clock, and I shall have a
friend with me.'

I said, `Tariq, that will be fine and I hope that you
and your friend will stay for dinner. I have a new chef.
I look forward to being of any assistance I can.'

I was a little intrigued as to what Tariq's problem
might be. However, I had to put it out of my mind as the
day was very busy.

That afternoon, upon arriving home, I advised Aziz that
we would be having visitors and to have Flavio prepare
dinner for three for seven o'clock onwards. I doubted
that Tariq and his friend, whoever he was would stay the
night, and that being the case, would have to depart at
a reasonable hour even though the weekend was coming up,
so I had ordered the dinner a little earlier than usual.

True to his word, Tariq arrived just a few minutes after
six in a large limousine with his friend who was a
distinguished looking Arab, whose car it was and who had
picked up Tariq from his Palace and driven him here.

Tariq's eyes were sparkling with amusement, and I
wondered what was up. Little did I suspect.

We settled down on some couches in the Palace and
refreshments were offered to my guests. Food and Drink
were on their best behaviour and actually kissed their
former Master's feet when they had brought the trays of
refreshments in. Tariq looked at his guest and said,
`These two incorrigibles used to be mine. Always
upsetting the Palace. Now look at them.'

I did not get the inference. Because flighty and all as
Food and Drink were, they had hardly been incorrigible
at any stage, and I got the impression that Tariq was
trying to make me out to be, in the eyes of his friend,
more than I actually was. Of this, I was convinced, when
he said to his friend, `Of course, I mentioned to you
the other case with my brother's slave.'

Tariq had introduced his friend as Farouq Al-Hatim, so I
said `Farouq, why don't you tell me what your problem
is. If I can solve it, it must not be great.'

Farouq started to explain to me that he had a large
property which included some three hundred or so slaves.
I was surprised as I thought the only certain families
in the country had that level of slaves, and I had not
heard mention of him before in business or at the Bank.
And as I think I may have mentioned, many of the
families are inter-related.

His property included some mines in the foothills of the
mountains so he invariably looked for strong working
class slaves for his venture. He also had a private
liking for American working class individuals and when
one such slave came on the market at al-Qatim some
months ago, he had bought him for 32,000 euro.

I thought to myself that either the `private liking' as
Farouq had expressed it must be very strong or this was
a particularly good piece of slave which he had bought.

The slave had been in training prior to the auction, so
Farouq thought that it would be as usual, that he was
getting a reasonably well trained and submissive slave.
He was wrong. The slave was rebellious and dangerous and
created all sorts of problems at his mine, to the extent
that the two overseers there wanted to have him gelded
to cut the testosterone levels in the slave's body.

However, Farouq was reluctant to do this and put up with
the slave's behaviour as long as he could. He had been
whipped a number of times, starved, left without water
on two occasions for almost a whole day in the sun. I
put up my hand. It was not necessary for Farouq to go
on. I understood the problem.

I also said that I understood what annoyance a
disruptive slave could cause in a well run establishment
as had happened in one case, and I nodded to Tariq. I
also said that it was not good for general discipline
nor indeed for the reputation of the owner. And that
reputation must be protected. Also that what was being
said here did not go beyond the circle of the three of
us ever!

`There! I told you Farouq he would understand
perfectly,' Tariq said

Farouq had stopped talking and looked relieved.

`Where is the slave now and do you have the papers on
him?'

`In the car' -- he was in fact in the trunk of the car -
`and yes, I do have his papers with me. I had hoped you
would accept this case.'

The comment puzzled me a little, until the penny dropped
and I realised that Tariq had been `marketing' me as a
specialist in slave training.

`Let me have him brought in for you,' I said and called
on Aziz, to get Greg and to have Food and Drink standing
by.

Two minutes later a worried looking driver came back in
with Aziz and a six foot four hunk of prime American
manhood. He was two hundred and ten pounds if he was an
ounce, none of which was fat. His body looked hardened
despite being fully naked and his ten inch cock half
aroused. He was however filthy. His arms were held by
Velcro to the back of a neck collar.

At that moment, Greg arrived followed in by a nervous
Food and Drink. I circled the slave. His eyes were
blazing and throwing out sparks of heaven knows what.
Resentment, hatred, resistance? Or perhaps, all three.

I looked at his file. His name was Jess Tollman, from
Michigan and aged twenty four. Formerly a car worker on
an assembly line, married with two kids, a boy and a
girl. He had been `lifted' when going on a so-called
camping trip with two friends, who had, in fact, sold
him for $5,000 dollars.

He was struggling against the hold the driver had on his
arm, and calling the driver quite a few names. Aziz's
eyes were dangerously slitted as if he had seen and
heard enough.

Apart from his height and weight which I had got almost
to the pound, Jess Tolmann's SIN number was 473724.
He had been given shots for the usual nine different
diseases, had been seen by the veterinary dentist for
four fillings and a dental descaling. The attached half
page doctor's report had ok ticks in every box, one of
while said `Fertile: very'. Further boxes `Flaccid: 16',
`Erect: 31' and `Circ. 16'. Clearly a long and well hung
guy.

Further boxes said `Foreskin: u/c', `Anus: virgin',
`Status: tight', `Prostate: walnut sized'.

I wondered just how many had held him down for that
particular examination.

Speaking first in English so that he would understand
me, speaking as if to him and to him alone in the room,
I said `Jess, welcome to my home. You are going to be
taken for a shower and a shave, and by the looks of it,
a haircut. Let my two slaves here do that for you and
afterwards I shall look in on you.'

He had not said a word but his chest was heaving a
little less. I put my hand on it and looking in his eyes
said `Calm down. Calm down. You need to be cleaned up.
Can I take the neck collar off you? If I do, are you
going to behave? A simple `Yes' will do.'

The `Yes' was said defiantly.

I took off the neck collar -- it has a simple lock which
only a special Allen key opens and which I borrowed
momentarily from Aziz. The American slave brought his
arms and hands down from the back of his head.

I undid the Velcro and the collar dropped to the floor.
Turning to Food and Drink, I said, `Take him. Shower him
outside and inside and shave him. Give him a haircut,
and then tell Greg here when he is ready.'

Food came forward and took the six foot four American by
his half tumescence cock. He did it as the most natural
thing in the world, as if taking a cow by its halter or
a pony by its reins. Jess gave a start but followed
where the pull on his cock led him.

Turning to Greg, I said `When he is showered, put the
collar back on him with his hands behind his neck, and
bring him to the re-training room. Put him on his back
on the table with his feet on the floor.' Greg left with
my instructions.

Turning to my two guests, I said, `Enough of this
tiresome business. My hospitality is atrocious. Allow me
to offer you dinner.'

Farouq was looking at Tariq, and Tariq just smiled.

Over dinner which was absolutely superb, a cold gazpacho
soup was followed by lightly garlicky goujons of breast
of chicken with sugarsnap peas and button champignon
mushrooms, followed by a cherry iced sorbet.

Farouq looked a little on edge towards the end of the
meal. He said he did not want to be impolite, but could
I state my fee in all of this. I looked at him and then
at Tariq, not knowing what Tariq had told him, but who
seemed highly amused.

`Farouq, there is no fee in this. This is a minor
inconvenience for you and a pleasure for me to assist.
Consider it like you passing me the salt or the pepper
or vice versa.'

Tariq roared with laughter. `Farouq, that is putting
your problem in perspective.'

`But, Farouq, this is a favour between friends, no more,
no less.'

`How long will it take you to do what ever you have to
do with the slave?' he asked and looked at Tariq who was
smiling.

`How long? I don't know. Some days, a week? I don't
know. It depends on the slave, but it should not be
long.'

As I had guessed neither guest could or would stay the
night. I was bidding them off in front of the Palace,
when Greg was at my side and said, `The slave is in the
re-training room as you ordered, Master,' so I walked
round the Palace in the cool evening air and into the
outbuilding which contained the re-training room.

Jess had been much cleaned up. Though tanned, he still
had a white band of flesh around his waist. His pubes
and the hair of his head had been trimmed as in the
custom of slaves in my Palace. He had lost his treasure
trail and his pits hair.

He was lying on his back on the large leather covered
table, his neck collar clipped to a hook on the edge so
that he could not come forward. His legs were over the
near side. I stood between his legs, each of which had
been lightly fastened to a forward leg of the table. I
could feel the heat coming off him. His cock was still
at half mast, so I flicked it up flat on his stomach. It
seem to stretch a little further as it tumefied.

`Jess, let me tell you what I am going to do.' His eyes
flickered in apprehension but he said nothing.

`I am going to break you. I don't think you have
actually ever been broken before like I am going to
break you, because I would see it in your eyes. That
submission I am looking for is not there. That
submission is not for me. It is for your Master.'

`I have no Master. I am a free man. I am an American.
Let me out of here! I am a free man,' he shouted.

`No, Jess, you are a slave. And you do have a Master
whom you do not respect yet.'

Greg was still at my side. `Master, do you want me to
leave?'

I was going to say `Yes', but thought better of it and
said, `No, stay here and look and learn.'

Turning to Jess I said, `There are 87 sensitive points
on the human body. This evening, I am going to hit each
one of them once, only once. The blows in some cases may
not be hard. In others, they will be. In all, they will
be the most powerful feelings of continuous pain that
you have ever felt. They will humiliate you, not just
before me. They will humiliate you before yourself, when
you realise that you are not as strong or as brave or as
hard-assed as you think you are.'

I let that message sink in and continued, `Then tomorrow
evening, I shall hit each of them twice. The day after
three times, and so on until you break. Let me tell you,
no one has ever gone beyond day three' -- that was a half
truth, but economy with the truth is nothing new in the
world.

`So, by Sunday night at the very latest, you will be
your Master's obedient slave and you will remember this
weekend until the day you die.'

Jess let fly a stream of obscenities and curses. I let
them flow and made no attempt to stop him.

`That's ok, Jess, say all you want, because when the
session begins it will be only your screams which you
will hear. Now, say anything you want while you can.'

From the corner of my eye, I could see that Greg looked
quite shocked by what I had said. So I said to him,
`fasten a Velcro strap over his hips so that his body
does not move in over the table.'

This he did immediately. Unloosening Jess' left leg, I
brought it back up over his chest and fastened it with a
strap to about a foot and a half to the side of his
head. I did similarly with his right leg on the right
side.

In this way, the soles of his feet were actually out
over the far side of the table, and his butt was being
pulled up into the air, with its cheeks wide apart. No
amount of muscle power could keep the buttock cheeks
together one his legs were so widely splayed. His pink
butt hole looked small and tight, and glinted shiny,
showing the signs of a recent wash and some lubrication
on it, as would be the Palace's custom, from Food and
Drink's ministrations of having washed him outside and
inside.

His cock was stuck halfway between his stomach and his
right leg, obviously a natural resting place for a man
who jacked off with his right hand. So I straightened it
and laid its head just covering his belly button. It was
surprisingly firm for a flaccid cock and all of its
stated 25 centimetres was beautiful to hold and to
sensually stroke particularly around the cut flange.

`Don't touch me. Leave me alone' were followed again by
a string of working class obscenities mainly of a sexual
nature, but for all their toughness, that was an element
of pleading somewhere in their background. It was not
the outburst of outrage. It was the outburst of
helplessness in the hands of a Master.

I ran my hand over his thighs and up the back of his
legs. He struggled but could do no more.

`Now, Jess, I am going to tell you precisely what I am
going to do each time, so that you are not surprised by
it. Before I start on your sensitive spots, all 87 of
them one after another, I need to see just how sensitive
your skin is and that is best tested with the bastinado
of the soles of your feet. It is itself a method of
punishment in Iran and Turkey, but I am not using it to
punish you just simply to test the sensitivity of your
skin which I do not wish to break.'

Jess was now perspiring as he struggled. His obscenities
were little more than cries to let him go.

`The bastinado of each of the spaces between your toes
will come later on in the evening. As I have not got a
proper Turkish bastinado, I shall merely use an ordinary
light, very light, may I add, camel cane.'

Moving to the left of his head, I brought the cane done
on the upturned sole of his left foot. A scream came out
of his throat like nothing human. I went over to inspect
the sole. The skin was not broken, and running a finger
over the fast rising weal, he garbled a scream again.

`Excellent response, Jess, very sensitive skin.
Beautiful, if I may say so.' I was moving to the right
side of his head, when he lost control of his bladder
and yellow urine covered his chest and ran down on the
table. His nose was also running and a dribble was
coming from his mouth. I had deliberately not put in a
gag, and trusted that he would not bite his own tongue.

`Greg, get a rag and dry up his piss. I don't want this
slave lying in his own piss.'

Greg ran to get a cloth, and while he did I just rubbed
my fingers through Jess' recently cut hair.

`Now, now, Jess, don't let a loss of bladder control
upset you. It and a loss of bowel control always
happens. That is why I had Food and Drink clean you out.
I hope you are well cleaned out, because there is
nothing quite like the smell of warm shit splattered all
over the place.'

Greg came back with a small towel and quickly mopped up
the piss. Jess' eyes were now streaming tears of pain
and shame. Not to lose, the moment, I went to his right
side and brought the camel cane down full force on his
right sole. His scream split the air like a knife.
Again, I examined the sole and declared my satisfaction
with it and his skin's sensitivity and his response.

`Now, Jess, for the first of the 87 strokes. I shall
walk you through each. This one is on your clenched
anus, which by the looks of it is virginal. You have
never had anything up there have you, except a soapy
finger perhaps and whatever douche they used on you
today. Your anus has more sensitive spots, do you know
than the tip of your cock, to which we will get later
on. On it, I am merely using this light whip of knotted
twine as you can see - not at all heavy.'

I went round between his legs and stepping back took aim
at his puckered rosebud, imagined it the size of a car
wheel, and swung. I was very pleased. The tip of the
small whip hit it bull's-eye centre. Jess convulsed and
if he had screamed before, this was a man's scream from
the bottom of his lungs to the upper reaches of every
chord in his voicebox. The Velcro strap held him firmly
in place. His eyes were standing out in his head and
tears streaming down from the sides of his eyes.

`Well screamed, Jess, one done 86 to go. Now, it is the
turn of your right testicle.'

I took aim and though not with the full force of my arm,
as I did not want to burst the testes, picturing it as
large as a basketball in my mind's eye, I hit it centre
on. Jess screamed and screamed and screamed. It went on
for almost twenty seconds and then there was the most
uncanny silence as air rushed back into his lungs and he
tried to recover his lost breath.

`Now, Jess, that was a really good scream, I would say.
Well done. Two done and 85 to go. Now the left testicle
and I moved to get into position.

The stroke to his left testicle was clean and precise
and spot on. Jess' scream was more than just a piercing
shout, it was a convulsion of a strangled cry of pain.

Sobbing, shouting, quite incoherent, it took me some
seconds to make out what he was trying to
say....'Master, Master, no, Master, no...'

Two minutes into a session more of psychological torture
than of long drawn out physical abuse, Jess Tollman had
broken, and he was his Master's slave.

I went round to this head and his eyes alone were
pleading up at me to stop his punishment.

`Jess, this is not a game. If you say, `Master' it means
that you acknowledge that you are now a slave and that
your Master is just that. Is that what you are trying to
say?

`Master, yes. I have a Master. No more please, Master,
no more.'

I turned to Greg. `Get him down and get him ready for
bedding for the night, then let me know.'

The atmosphere in the re-training room was warm and
opening the soundproof door, I walked out into the cool
of the courtyard to go and get myself a refreshing drink
in the kitchens. Flavio, the Italian cook slave, was
still tidying up after the dinner. I took his
magnificent member in my hand and stroked it until it
was firm.

`And what were you thinking of doing to-night, Flavio?'

At that Bob, came in with some stores, and seeing
Flavio's erection, went quite red. `And you, too, Bob,
what were also thinking of doing to-night?'

I had not expected an answer, but Bob blurted out red as
a beetroot, `I was going to suck Flavio off as usual,
Master.'

I got the impression that Bob, the Canadian jock, could
not lie!

I smiled at his simplicity and openness of manner and
said, `When you too are finished here, get up to my
bedroom and I shall see how well you do your business.'

I asked Flavio for two slave biscuits and a jug of water
and walked back across the courtyard. Greg was just
helping Jess up along the passageway from the shower. He
was limping along trying not to put the soles of his
feet on the ground.

I waited until Jess and followed Greg to the ground in
obeisance. Jess took a while to get up. I said, `Now,
steady boy,' and weighed his right, and then his left
testicle in the palm of my hand. He tensed, groaned but
did not move.

`Good, boy. Good, boy. In the morning you are going to
have one sore asshole and two very bruised testicles,
and a lot of broken pride. Tonight, Jess, you belong to
Greg. Do for him anything he asks. Let him do to you,
anything he wants. Do you understand?'

Jess gulped once or twice but said `Yes, Master'.

`Good. Here's your supper. You must be hungry after all
that screaming. And Jess, there is no shame in your
capitulation. It was like the sea on a rock. Sooner or
later, the rock crumbles.'

`Greg, he's all yours for to-night. Remember at times it
is best to be cruel to be kind. And if you are gentle on
him tonight, he will resent you.'

I left him to Greg's devices and went up to my bedroom
to see what Flavio and Bob intended to do to themselves
and for me. However, I was so tired that when I lay down
on the bed, I actually fell asleep and woke up early
morning to find the pair on either side of me fast
asleep. So much, for a night of sexual passion, if its
intention had been to just look at the action of others!

As soon as I had breakfast, I called Tariq and told him
that Farouq could have his slave collected anytime, that
he was now broken.

Tariq said `Not possible!'.

I said, `You can't contact Farouq?'

`No, no, the slave can't be broken already.'

I assured him that Jess Tollman was broken and wanted
his Master. Tariq roared with laughter and could not
stop.

`I am going to call Farouq as soon as he is up for
breakfast. He is a late riser and may we call on you to
inspect this so-called broken slave?'

I could not understand his uncontrolled laughter, and
the fits of coughing that came with it. But I said yes,
they could come as I was in the Aloe Palace all day.

I had Greg called to the portico of the Palace where I
was having breakfast in the morning cool. He came and
stood at `display'. I told him to go to `rest' and said
`Well?'

`I don't understand, Master. Well, what?'

`What did you and Jess do last night?'

He went bright red, he spluttered and could not find the
words. He then calmed down, and seeing that I was
looking him straight in the eye, made eye contact with
me and said, `I had him suck my tits and lick my
armpits.'

As I made no response, the bright red got deeper. `I
made him suck me until I got hard.'

Again, I made no response, Greg gulped, `And then I
fucked him fast and hard. And again a second time,
Master, this morning'

`Fast and hard,' you say. `He was unbroken?'

`He was last night, Master. He was not this morning.'

`Where is he now?'

`Milking Food and Drink. I think, Master, for the second
time.'

Now it was my turn to laugh.

`Fast and hard, eh, Greg? Who would have thought it,
that a nice guy like you would be barebacking a horny
twenty four year old father of two?'

I told Greg that Farouq would be around to collect his
slave and explained precisely how he was to be greeted
by his slave in kneeling obeisance.

It was well after lunch, when Tariq and Farouq arrived.
I summoned Greg and told him to get Jess Tollman. He
came back with Jess some moments later. Tariq was
looking at me and at Farouq.

Jess rushed across and made obeisance at the feet of
Farouq and kissed both his feet. Then he put Farouq
right foot on the nape of his neck as his forehead
touched the marble of the reception room floor as he had
been instructed by my orders to Greg. If thunder had
rolled and lightening had flashed, a greater impression
could not have been made. Even Tariq was impressed and
Farouq was astounded.

Turning to Tariq, he said `You knew something!' It was
half a challenge, half a denunciation.

Tariq was laughing until the tears were rolling down his
face. `No, my cousin, I did not know anything specific.
All I knew was that this slave here -- pointing to Greg -
whom my brother Rashid could not control or break was
broken by this my friend, this Englishman. Can I tell
him the rest, my cousin?'

Farouq was spluttering. I don't think Farouq was his
actual cousin -- some sort of distant relation perhaps -
but I was totally at sea now.

Tariq with a grin a mile wide, started by saying, `When
Farouq had this problem, I said to him to let you, dear
Jonathan, break his slave. He agreed. To make it
interesting, I said to him, `If the slave breaks within
a day, he is Jonathan's. If he breaks within two days,
he is mine. If he breaks after two day's he would still
be Farouq's. So now, dear cousin,' he said addressing
Farouq, `who owns this slave?' and Tariq started to
laugh again at the joke.

Farouq threw his hands up in the air, and said to Jess
at his feet, who was still crouched there, `Slave, this
is your new Master' indicating me. `Go to him now!'

Jess scuttled across the floor and for the second time
in less than five minutes made obeisance and kissed a
Master's feet and placed a Master's foot on the nape of
his neck. Greg's clear warning were evidently still
echoing in his ears.

I looked from one to the other and back again and then
at Greg.

`Take this slave out of here and I shall inspect him
later.'

Turning to my guests, I said `I am indebted to you both.
Now let us dine.'

Jess Tollman made a fine addition to the Palace. I took
him that night to my bed and was the second person to
ride him. Like surgery, I believe, a slave should be
broken in hard and fast. His anal tightness disappeared
after an hour of constant fucking and I started him on
this training how to please a Master in bed. The former
paint factory worker with a penchant for motors was a
quick learner and quickly adapted to the life of the
Palace.

To be continued...