Date: Fri, 25 Jul 2003 23:07:31 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Changed Life - Chapter 5 - Gay Authoritarian

This is the 5th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.

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

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

If you are underage to read this kind of material or if this material is
unlawful for you to read where your ive, 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 5 -- The Kazakh

The slave looked at me and dropped to the spot on the carpet where I was
indicating with my left hand. `Sit' was obviously one of the word he
knew. He was half sitting, half crouching. I said again, `Sit' and he slid
his legs under himself and sort of sat back on his hunkers and heels.

`Tariq, I am astounded at your generosity and thoughtfulness. But I have
learned a lesson. I must be very careful what I ever say in your presence
ever again. I accept your present, though I am not too sure what use I am
going to make of him.'

Tariq looked extremely please with himself and called for Ahmed. I got the
gist of what was being said to have the documentation of ownership ready by
the morning.

It was now about ten o'clock by my reckoning and I knew that most people in
the Gulf get up very early, and that I myself would have to be in office by
ten at the latest, as Thursday is effectively the last day of the Middle
Eastern week. I had had enough excitement or so I thought for one day. So I
begged to be excused for the night. It had been made clear in the
invitation that I would be over-nighting at the Palace.

Tariq immediately clapped his hands and Ahmed came in with the three other
men who had been at the front door earlier in the evening. The were the
overseers of his fields, his stables (which I mistakenly thought referred
to his horses, subsequently I would learn better) and his property (this
turned out to be the actual physical fabric of the buildings of the Palace
and its grounds).  Ahmed seemed to more important than the three and over
the lot of them in some way which I did not clearly grasp.

Tariq apologised that he would not be around in the morning to see me off
as he had to be elsewhere at seven and even before that had business to
transact here in the Palace with his overseers and he excused himself
saying that Ahmed would bring me to my quarters for the night.

It was evident that the two body slaves were to look after me and one
brought back the sling and deftly draped it over my neck as he had seen me
undo it previously.

Ahmed came over and told the Kazakh to come with him. I asked where he
intended bringing him and Ahmed said to put back in his cage for the night.

I could not believe what I had heard. Cage? The Kazakh was half up off his
hunkers. I put my hand on his scalp and gave it a little rub much as you
would do to the ears of a horse or the forehead of a pony. He stopped
rising half in mid-air half hunkered down.

`Is he that dangerous?' I asked.

`Dangerous, no, Master, but not fully trained. I will give you his full
history and documentation in the morning, and his overseer will tell you
how to handle him, and what food to give him.'

`If he is not dangerous to me or to others, then I want him to come with me
now.'

`Yes, Master.'

`Up' I said indicating to the Kazakh with my left hand to get up. He got to
his feet not taking his eyes off me.

`What is your name?' He did not understand the sentence. So I quickly fired
off pointing to him, `Ivan? Sergei? Vasili?'

He got the message immediately and said `Yuriy'.

`Well, Yuriy, come with me.' The two body slaves looked downright dejected
until I motioned them to follow and they brightened up immediately with big
white toothed smiles.

You could have played a decent game of cricket in the suite of rooms to
which I was brought. The two body slaves seemed to know where things
were. The bag which I had brought with me had been unpacked. The super king
sized bed was turned down ready for use.

I told Ahmed I would need to leave by 8.30 latest in the morning.  Looking
at the sling on my arm, he suggested that he call me at 7.30 and shot out a
fast phrase in a language I did not know to the two body slaves. Their
dejection returned. I asked him what he had said and in what language. He
had told them not to keep me awake as I had important business to do in the
morning.  And the language was Mehri from the southern area of the Arabian
Peninsula. He added that they were of the lesser tribes.

I thanked him for his courtesy and the effort he had obviously made to make
a success of the evening. He seemed taken aback at the thanks and wished me
a good night's rest, and looking across at the Kazakh who was simply
standing there with his feet two feet apart and hand behind his back- a
position I subsequently found out was `rest -- he said, `Master, do not be
easy on him, or he will bite the hand that feeds him. But tonight, after my
Master - may Allah give him long life - that Kazakh is the luckiest man in
the Palace.'

He have a little bow and backed out of the room.

I was feeling tired, but exhilarated, exhausted but alive in every pore of
my body . My emotions were running riot. I knew that I had not lost the
hard-on I had earlier in the evening. My mind was pulling in one direction,
my body definitely in another.

I saw the door leading into the bathroom suite, which was really the half
the size of the ground floor in a normal house. I spotted the toilet and
went over to have a piss. Being right handed I was struggling with the zip
of my trousers when suddenly the two body slaves were there to do the
necessary. They were totally unfazed as the stream of piss hitting the bowl
and were looking at it curiously. I pointed to their penises and told them
to piss. They smiled and taking aim before I could say another word, let
fly two long runs of piss into the bowl. I wondered what would they have
done had I not told them.

Walking back into the bedroom suite, Yuriy was still there, not having
apparently moved a muscle. I beckoned to him, and pointing out the toilet
in the bathroom and then the shower opposite it, I pointed him inside. He
did not close the door. Soon a stream of piss was to be heard and I left
him to his do his business.

I motioned to the two body slaves who barely understood Arabic as I spoke
it, which struck me as strange they being from the Peninsula, and had them
undress me. My arm was quite sore, but the drinks body slave, as I
continued to think of him, got my shirt off over the plaster of Paris, but
it was slow going.  By this time, I could hear the shower going in the
bathroom.

Shoes and socks were off in no time, and down came my pants. In for a
penny, in for a pound I thought, and had the food body slave take off my
boxers which by this stage were quite damp to the front from the amount of
pre-cum I had been losing almost all evening. They did not even appear to
notice, though I am sure they did. Before I could say anything, all my
clothes and shoes were put in a basket and the food body slave disappeared
out the bedroom door.

The shower had stopped at this stage. I went in to the bathroom suite
because I too wanted to shower even though I had showered not six hours
previously. In Dahra the heat is such day and night that you can feel
perspiration on your body at almost all times.

Yuriy was standing in the middle of the floor doing some form of
on-the-same- spot Canadian Air Force drill type exercises, but stopped
immediately I came in.  If dry he looked superb, damp after a shower he was
astounding.

I motioned him to continue. He had obviously not dried himself off after
the shower with a towel as all the visible towels were untouched. He
continued on with his series of exercises and in my mind a plan began to
form.

I had discovered earlier in the evening that the plaster of Paris was that
new kind which was siliconed on the outside and so did not let the water
in.  I stood under the shower and the drinks body slave adjusted the water
temperature, who then came over to soap me all over.

It only took a few touches of the drinks slave's hand before I had a raging
boner which actually was causing quite a bit of pain down at the back of my
balls. He went down on his knees and opened his mouth as if to do something
about it, but I told him no, to continue showering me. With that the second
body slave, having got rid of the dirty laundry, returned, and in no time
had me washed, shampooed and dried with two soft towels, all this as well
as washing themselves in the process.

Yuriy by this stage was now bone dry in the middle of the bathroom. He was
not even breathing deeply after his exercises. His skin has a light copper
tone, not quite tanned, not bronzed, but an all over colour which exuded
good health and loads of exercise.

I motioned all three to come into the bedroom suite, and what intrigued me
was that before the two body slaves came out, they ran over to the toilet
grabbed a douche nozzle which was to the side of the toilet and slipped it
up each other, first one then the other. I had not noticed a button on the
floor which obviously operated a flow of water, because after about ten
second of flow, they would pull out the nozzle, squat and defecate the now
liquid content of their bowels. They did this three times to each other and
I could only stop and stare.  I was all over in less than 90 seconds and
they were grinning from each to ear.

I looked over at Yuriy, but he kept a fixed look somewhere in the region of
my shoulders. I reached out and lifted his chin and had him look me in the
eyes.  His eyes tried to stay neutral, but they are the windows of the soul
as is said, and somewhere in that recess at the back of the eyes there
lurked a fear, perhaps of me, perhaps of the unknown. I could not quite
figure it out yet. He made no move to go near the douche nozzle and I did
not order him to. But with a flick of my head, I brought the three of them
into the bedroom suite.

As there was only one bed, I grabbed a pillow and tossed it on the floor to
the right of the bed. Pulling open two of the presses, I could not remember
the Arabic word for blanket, but soon found almost what I was looking for
-- a sort of a light quilt and I tossed that beside the pillow.

The three were looking at me, not knowing what I was doing or what was
expected of them at this stage. I sat on the end of the bed and motioned
Yuriy over. He took up the display position which he had used earlier in
the evening.  His fine body was a foot in front of my eyes, I touched his
chest with the tips of my fingers, and ran them over each of his
nipples. They hardened without even being pinched or pulled or teased,
clearly a most sensitive part of his body.

As one who likes being in control, and my previous lovers will attest to
that, I take charge of sex and love- making unless physically exhausted.

To get a lover to comply with my wishes, I have found from experience that
are only two ways, by force or by psychology.  Of the two, force is the
poor relation.  I remember it being said on one occasion that `the knee
that is forced is better unbent'.

Anyway of the two ways, I prefer psychology to show, and prove, and assert
totally my mastery of a lover.  It is like the spider and the fly. If the
fly has not flown into the web, he must be attracted in, never repelled,
never repulsed.  The figure before me was certainly more attractive than a
fly, but that was what he was in this psychological moment.

As I touched his pits, he gave an involuntary tickled reaction, but it was
merely with the tips of my the fingers of my left hand I was using. My
single good arm and hand proved to the slave that I was no threat to him.

My touching of his body anywhere and any how I wanted showed him my
absolute ownership of it.

 I touched his rippled six pack abdominal muscles and wetting my middle
finger touched the deep trough of a hard navel. By this time, he was fully
erect. His uncut cock-head was peeking out between the folds of his
prepuce, a hint of pre- cum, a small translucent pearl of juice, was to be
seen at the tip of the urethra.

I took his ball sack in my hand and lifted it. It was tight and almost hard
up against his lower pubic bone, clearly full of the seed in his testicles.
I ran my finger down the inside of his legs and he gasped audibly.

Having only one hand to use was a little annoying, but I persisted. His
erection was now leaking profusely and a long drip of pre-cum was now
hanging down form his cock. The eyes of the two body slaves on the bed were
wide open, their eyes more white than iris. I took the strand of the
slave's pre-cum on the tip of my finger and put it between Yuriy's lips and
touched his tongue.

This was a defining moment for the slave, because he could have, had he so
wished, caused me considerable finger damage had he bitten my finger.
Instead he sucked it for a moment and I withdrew my hand.

I turned Yuriy around merely using two fingers of my hand and looked at his
clenched buttocks locked together by straining muscle. With my one hand on
the small of his back I bent him over, and with my feet tapped the inside
of this ankles until they were over a yard apart.

At that width, no amount of clenched muscle could keep his buttocks
together and I was rewarded the first sight of my quarry, a firmly clenched
drum tight arsehole, pink and puckered, telling me what I had already half
guessed, that Yuriy, my Kazakh, was an anal virgin.

Bringing my nose up to the cheeks of his backside, I blew in between them
with my lips. Yuriy half jumped half flinched as if he had been hit a
blow. I blew again and this time he did not move. I let my tongue touch
half way between his balls and his hole, right in the middle of his choad,
in the centre of his perineum just under his anus and with the nails of my
finger lightly scratched the perineum.

I heard him groan deeply as my fingers frottaged the tight skin between his
upper legs and down and around the shaven and hairless sack of his balls.
Again, he groaned deeply and another strand of pre-cum was hanging down
between his legs.

The two body slaves had come around to look at what was going on, looking
at one another and grinning hugely. The tip of my tongue touched his
rosebud and he literally shuddered.

My left hand was now up between his outstretched legs and the head of his
penis now fully engorged was resting in the palm of my hand. I could feel
wetness of the strands of pre-cum coming from his cock. Either he had never
been rimmed before or he was extra sensitive between his legs. Either way,
it was hugely pleasing to me, be able to dominate such a fine specimen of
slavehood in this manner, with the simple tip of my tongue and the touch of
my fingers.

Stopping all action behind him, I slapped him light on the cheek of his
arse and had him turn round. His cock, released from restraint of the palm
had risen higher than its former right angle to his body, to now a definite
forty five degree upswing.

I looked up at this face and there was a glazed look in his eyes. He was in
penile torture for long enough, so I took his straining eight inches in my
mouth and having sucked up and back his foreskin and the tender area behind
the corona of his glans a merely three times, my Kazakh gave a groan from
deep back in his throat, a shudder ran through his body and a cry came from
the very bottom of his throat as he shot four solid loads of sperm into my
mouth and down my throat.

Anyone expecting less would have gagged, seeing his build up to this
climax, I can proudly say that I did not loose a single drop of this cum.

The two body slaves were looking at me in amazement. It was clear that one
they had not seen this type of rimming action between a Master and a slave
before, and secondly, they had not, I guessed, ever seen a Master suck off
a slave.

Yuriy stood before him, his hands now down by his side. His belly and chest
heaving as if he had run a mile. There was a look in his face I could not
really fathom. I don't quite know if he thought that he was being expected
to do the same for me as had been done to him.

I pointed to the quilt and pillow on the floor and said `Sit. Sleep.'
`Sit' he understood. `Sleep' he did not, so I put my hand to the side of my
head and closed my eyes as if asleep. He dropped to the floor and started
to cover himself clumsily with the quilt as if he did not know what it was
for.

I told the two body slaves to get back on the bed, and pulling down one of
the pillows, had the drinks body slave splay himself over it with his butt
in the air. I motioned to his dry butt hole. The food body slave jumped off
the bed and to a drawer from which he produced a large tube of KY,
obviously a universal product, and proceeded to anoint the every widening
butt hole of his fellow tribesman. I though to myself, that these two
better be clean if I was going to bareback them, and then I thought they
must be, or otherwise a careful host would not have allowed them near me.

I was about to get on the bed when Yuriy got up from the right side of the
bed, stark naked as he was, even still with a half tumescent cock after his
ejaculations, and walking round the end of the bed with his eyes not
looking at mine, knelt down at my feet.  He had obviously been thinking
about something and something was on his mind.

It seemed slightly ridiculous, one naked man at the feet of another naked
man.  Then he did something extraordinary to my mind. He kissed each of my
feet and with his head touching the carpet, he took my right foot and
placed it on the back of his neck.

The two body slaves were on the bed immobilised with the shock.  Obviously
you did not disobey a Master who told you to sit and sleep, and you
certainly did not touch a Master.

All of twenty seconds must have passed before my mind clicked back into
gear.  I took my foot off the back of his neck, where he had placed it in
utter and total submission to me, and catching his arm, I said `Up'. When
he arose, it was clear that his eyes were wet and a single tear started to
roll down his right cheek. He had made his submission in his own way.
Psychology again had proved better than force.

I wiped the tear away. I took his right hand and put it on my own penis and
ball sack. I let him grasp me, but he applied no pressure to the grip,
rather a balancing of my balls in the palm of his hand.

I said `Yuriy, Master'.  He did not get message, so I touched his chest
with my finger and then touch my own chest.  I repeated `Yuriy, Master' to
indicate the allegiance I wanted him to give me voluntarily.

The thought clicked in his mind, and he slowly said `Yuriy, Master' and
bending down kissed the tip of my penis.  I was to discover later that in
Dahra this is the sign of true subservience to and ownership by a Master.

I brought Yuriy round to the right side of the bed again. Told him to `Sit.
Sleep' again, and as he half wrapped the quilt round his long frame, I
tucked it in around him.

The other two were where I had left them, and motioning over the food body
slave, I slipped my cock into his mouth as I knelt on the bed. We were off
to a flying start in less than five seconds. When I was nice and hard, but
not too hard, I went over to his friend, the drinks slave, who still had
his ass high in the air, and slipped my hard on inside him finding him well
lubricated from the applied cream.

I was extremely difficult to keep my balance with only one hand. The second
body slave seeing the difficulty came behind me and simply held my waist
and I thrust in and out of the drinks body slave, seeking the one spot that
would satisfy both him and me.

On my fourth slow thrust, I found the small hard nut-sized prostate. It was
in direct counter proportion to his generously sized member 21 centimetre
which was now, I could feel with my hand, was at its most rigid. I slowed
my pace to keep find that one single spot, particularly on each thrust
in. I had no sooner hit it six times than the reaction occurred. His cock
went into orbital overload and spewed out an amazing amount of cum and
continued to do it for seven or eight long bursts.

I pulled out of the drinks body slave and motioned to the food body slave
to take his place. In less than ten seconds, his ass too was up in the air
being lubed with two full fingers of KY. It took me just eight hard thrusts
into his puckered orifice to find his prostate, almost not surprisingly in
the same position as his tribal companion, maybe a genetic idiosyncrasy to
his people.  Another four direct touches of my hard cock, and his cum
gushed out of his hard cock with a force that would not have shamed the
Niagara Falls.

The linen bedclothes were a mess, so I just indicated to the two that they
pull the quilt over it all. They were looking at me quite confused. I had
serviced them and given them pleasure, very clearly, but my cock was still
up and hard. It did not bother me in the least now, I had had one type of
pleasure I really enjoy, the anal submission of not just one bottom but of
two.

The two clearly thought that they had or should have more to do, because
very gently they were lowering me to the quilt so that my right arm was at
all times untouched and protected from sudden jerking.

They said something to each other in Mehri and smiled down at me as if
enjoying a secret. While one took my cock in his mouth, now beginning to
subside, to clean it off, the other went into the bathroom and returned
with a jar of a famous brand of face cream. They rubbed the cool cream on
my now reviving cock, and while one took the tip of my cock in my mouth,
cream and all, the other started to lick my balls with a tongue that would
have done credit to a long necked giraffe.

The experience was not meant to last, because the drinks body slave knew
just all the right places to lick on the tip of my cock and all the right
places to light graze with his teeth just behind the flange of my glans. I
pulsated one, twice, three times and the spasms of ecstasy were over for
that night. My shout had echoed out in the suite. The two body slaves were
grinning from ear to ear.

I looked over the edge of the bed. Yuriy was sleeping like a child through
all the shouting, a little smile curling the side of his lips. I indicated
to one of the body slaves to spoon up behind me and using the body and hip
of the other in front as a pillow for my broken wrist. A digital clock
beside the bed said it was almost midnight. That was my last thought.

I then heard a voice saying, `Master, Master' and it was 7.30 and the
morning light was streaming in room, and Ahmed was beside the bed.

Yuriy must have received some form of kick from Ahmed for not being awake,
but he sprang to his feet and took up the display position. The two body
slaves were just waking up. With my good hand, I motioned to Yuriy to use
the bathroom as he had an erection to match all erections and he ran in
there on the double.  The tinkle of his piss was soon followed by a grunt,
a fart and after that the running of the shower.

As I got into the bathroom, one of the body slaves had shaving cream on his
hand ready to put it on my face and I felt the pleasure of another man
shaving me. By the time that was finished, Yuriy was doing his
callisthenics and the other body slave had my shower running.

We were out of the shower in less that ten minutes and I felt that with a
little training and synchronisation what a lot of things can be achieved in
life.

My clothes for the day were already laid out and I realised that Yuriy must
have done that. I looked from them to him and back again, but he did not
move out of the `rest' position.

No sooner dressed, than Ahmed came in accompanied by a slave with a
breakfast trolley. I was about to tell the body slaves to take some food
when Ahmed said, `Master, they have their own diet. Such food is far too
rich for them' and from underneath the trolley, he produced a plate of what
looked like large biscuits.

To each of the body slaves he gave two and also two to Yuriy. They each ate
the dry biscuits as if they were a full English breakfast.

`What do they drink?' I asked.

`Only water' was the reply, so I filled up three glasses and gave on to
each slave. Ahmed looked on with some disapproval. Quite clearly it was not
the case of a Master doing anything for a slave. But he was wise and old
and kept his own counsel.

`Ahmed,' I said, `I know your thoughts and they are right, but last night
was something special in more ways than one.'

As I finished breakfast and started to leave the room, I realised that the
body slaves were not coming. They were standing there in the rest
position. I went over and ran a hand through each of their short head of
hair and gave each a pat of the left buttock. They were grinning from ear
to ear, like two puppies please with a petting.

To emphasise the point with Ahmed, I said in slow Arabic so that they would
understand, `Please tell the Master they have served me very well last
night and that this morning I feel like a new man.' Their eyes sparkled as
they looked at each other and at Ahmed.

I was now ready to leave. Yuriy was carrying my small overnight case, but
he was still bollocks naked. Ahmed came to me with a file and folder.

`This is the slave's documentation transferring ownership to you from the
Master. This is the folder with the slave's past history as far as we know
it and his training here at the Master's Palace. The stables overseer would
also like to have a word with you Master, if you have the time.'

I nodded, `Yes' and said, `but also get me some clothes for the slave, I
cannot bring him into the city like this.'

Ahmed said something fast to the two body slaves, one who went to a
wardrobe in the room and brought out two large short sleeved shirts. Ahmed
placed both up against Yuriy's frame, tossed one aside and gave him the
other. The other body slave was back with a pair of large khaki style pants
which went the knee and a pair of men's slack which were obviously to
small. Yuriy was handed the khaki and he fitted them on. They barely fitted
him and the outline of his sizeable tackle was clear.

The stables overseer had arrived and took me aside. He said in American
accented English which I could not place, `Master, you have received a fine
slave, but he must not be handled lightly. He must know who his Master
is. He is not yet broken. I have had quite a time to get him to be
submissive in every way.  He is also still a virgin.'

I did not say a word about the act of submission which had been voluntarily
given last night.

`I have put, Master, a month's supply of the slave's diet in the trunk of
your limousine, with an explanatory leaflet. He must be given a maximum of
four of these biscuits a day if he is to keep up with his training
régime. All the water he wants, but the biscuits they are high in
everything, protein and mineral, that he will need.'

`Lastly, Master, and my own Master was very clear to me on this, if your
slave misbehaves you are to call me at the number in the folder the Master
has given you. I am to drop everything I am doing and to go to him to
assist you bring him under control. I cannot emphasise enough that he is
still half wild. The Master is concerned that he has not had time to give
you the perfect slave of your choice.'

I looked at the concern in the overseer's face and said `Please tell, your
Master, that I am more than pleased with his generosity and his gift and
that I will remember everything you have said. Now a question to you. Where
are you from and how are you here?'

He looked at me with a grin and said `I was a Master-sergeant in U.S.  Army
and when I took early retirement at 35, I got offered this job which I saw
in a mercenary magazine. I am originally from Topeka, Kansas.'

`Your name?'

`Gus Jennings, Master.'

`I don't quite understand, how could the Army let you go at 35.  Master-
sergeants are worth almost a million dollars in expertise, training and
man- management.'

The grin got wider.
  `I hit a young pup of a first lieutenant in a moment of pure exasperation
and broke his jaw. His father was a full Colonel and demanded Leavenworth
for me. As I had the Congressional Medal of Honour, among other things, for
a job down South America way, the Army would not risk the bad publicity. I
got a phone call from one of my first recruits who had made his first star
as general by the age of 33 and who said `Gus, retire gracefully and with
honour'. The rest as they say is history. I am here now five years and have
almost a quarter of a million in the Bank.'

I looked in amazement at this man wise in the ways of training, and
thought, well maybe, I had just better listen to sound advice when I get
it. One swallow does not a summer make, and one act of submission, however
tearful, a permanently obedient man.

The only upbeat note on the way back to the capital was that ask we walked
back to the Tariq's limousine, Ahmed opened the trunk to have my hand
luggage put in and motioned Yuriy to get in as well.

I said no, that I wanted him in the limousine with me. Ahmed face did not
express the disapproval I could see in his body language.

Reclining back in the comfort of the back seat, I said `Sit' to Yuriy and
indicated the floor of the limousine. I click on the intercom and said `On
the way back, do not drive at more than 60 miles per hour, but I do need to
be at the Villa by 10.00.' It was the same driver and he said `Yes,
Master'.  I blackened the window between the driver and myself and started
to read the dossier.

Yuriy had been in the Kazakh army for 8 years, was 27 years of age, had
little English (thirty commands) and no Arabic, other than 15 of the other
previous commands listed alphabetically. He had never been married. In a
skirmish with some terrorists on the Afghan border had been captured, held
for three months, and sold on to the first of two slave traders. It seemed
this was a regular trade of the terrorists in trying to take soldiers alive
for sale as slaves.

I had been glancing over at Yuriy as I was reading his file. He seemed
uncomfortable in his clothes. Quite apart from being too tight, he was not
used to them. So I told him to take them off. He did not quite understand,
so I motioned to him what to do. They are off him in a thrice and he
continued to kneel there his knees wide apart showing his cock and balls
off in all their size and splendour.

He had a semi hard on, like you get in the mornings. I motioned to come
across and kneel between my legs. I let the tip of my shoe touch the
underside of his balls, and his cock rose almost to the
perpendicular. Quite obviously he was more virile in the morning after a
good night's sleep. His hands were still behind his head in what I seem to
remember was on of the training positions. His eyes never left my face for
a second. The tension was palpable in the air.  Again, I touch his balls
with the toe of my shoe and he shivered with reaction.  It had to be
reaction as the limousine as at a perfect temperature.

I lost interest in the dossier and left the erection rising in my trousers.
Unzipped my flies not taking my eyes off him, I slipped down my pants a
bit, and then my underpants. I noticed that the slave made no effort to
help as did the body slaves the previous night.

This was all single handled so a little slow, but when my cock was out of
the confines of my boxers, it was erect and already I could feel by touch
alone, leaking pre-cum. I coated the top of my middle finger with pre-cum
still not taking my eyes of his, and brought it up to his lips and slipped
my finger into his mouth.

A shudder went through his entire body and he sucked my finger like a lamb
would a teat on a ewe. Taking his hands down from behind his head, I gently
brought his head down towards my crotch. His lips circled the head of my
cock and then its entire shaft. His blue eyes were looking up at me all the
time. As I had not come the previous night, my explosion was not a short or
an easy one.  It gushed out and down his throat. I thought he would not be
able to take it all, but he did.

As I am very sensitive under my foreskin and on the tip of my cock after
coming, I lifted his head off my now tender member. His own cock was
weeping. I motioned him up and to turn round. There was plenty of space in
the limousine for him to be bent before me, his calves against the edge of
the back seat, his butt coming back towards my face.

While I had only barely touched his most private of spots last night, now,
I licked up his perineum and rimmed the external areas two centimetres all
around his anus. His cries of joy were only matched by the corded sinews of
the his muscled thighs sought to keep still and allow my tongue to do its
work.

When the tip my tongue hit his rosebud, his cry was strangled and hoarse. I
turned him round and with a knee of either side of my legs, I had him put
his pumping cock into my mouth. His legs were splayed apart and I let the
middle finger of my left hand slide back to touch his anus. I did not even
have to slide my finger in as I would have done with previous lovers.

Even that slight touch on his anus proved too much and Yuriy shot something
between seven and eight loads of the sweetest cum into my mouth that I have
ever experienced.  It tasted slightly of nutmeg or cinnamon, or one of the
spices. I was expecting the load, but I lost the count, not wanting to
waste a drop of his human protein seed.

At 10.00 on the dot, we drew up outside the Villa. Yuriy was back in his
temporary clothes tight and all as they were. His file had made interesting
reading. 78 kgs in weight and 10 centimetres flaccid and 16 centimetres in
circumference. I would vouch for each statistic. His SIN = whatever that
was -- was 473042.

What was also interesting reading was that as an Army Captain, by his own
account, he had bedded each an every one of his far-from-home young
conscripts and junior officers in a sexual bonding which created a loyalty
in his unit unequalled in the Kazakh military.

I believe from his submission last night that his loyalty was now to me and
was willing to allow the slave show his commitment to me.  But I bore Gus'
warning words in my mind.  Wisdom is born out of experience and should
always be accompanied by prudence.

To be continued...