Date: Sun, 27 Jul 2003 21:30:08 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Changed Life - Chapter 7 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the 7th chapter of Part One of a trilogy of novels of gay sex.

Keywords: authority, control, loyalty, punishment, re-training, slavery 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 7 - The new slaves

     It was perhaps about ten days after our nickel coup
that my mobile rang in the Villa. A code has to be
activated to gain access to incoming calls or to be able
to make outgoing ones. Once the code was entered, the
green coloured LEDs flickered for attention in the early
morning light. The sun was barely up fifteen minutes and
already it promised to be the usual scorcher of a day.
It was Tariq to invite me that evening for dinner at his
Palace - if that were convenient. If not, another time.

     I said I would be delighted and he said that he
would have his limousine come and collect me as
previously. I started to protest, but he would have none
of it and said that he was looking forward to meeting me
again, and that I would be able to meet his brothers who
had been with him for falconry hunting and who were
staying with him as well.

     The day was uneventful. Gustav Ahlson came in at one
stage to confirm that we were continuing to get in a
stream of small new clients each day, five million on
deposit here, holding three million in bullion there,
and it was all adding up.

     It is always our custom to ask `And how did you hear
of Deckams?' A silly question really from one
perspective -- the Bank had an imposing building in the
financial quarter and would be obvious to all but the
blind. But from an introduction point of view in the
Arab world of `who do you know that we know?' -- it is an
all important one. The answer was invariably Tariq or
one of the other four al-Akhri brothers, each of whom
had also opened up accounts which together totalled in
excess of one billion euro.

     At precisely seven pm, Tariq's limousine drew up
outside the front steps of the Villa, and his driver was
out it the evening sun, standing by the back door ready
to open it. I was dressed in light clothes suitable for
the cool evening. Yuriy trotted down the steps and stood
at the trunk of the car with my overnight case.

     As before, the driver dropped to his knees and
kissed my feet. His gratitude was clearly of the
continuing type. As he got up to open the limousine
door, I asked him in Arabic what his name was. He looked
astonished that another Master other than his own should
speak to him and in his own language at that, and
pulling himself up to his full height, he said `Faisel,
Master'. I took a half sucked peppermint I had in my
mouth and popped it into his. Had I kissed him or worse,
he could not have looked more surprised. His eyes opened
wide, and he smiled broadly and said `Master', as he
opened the door. I did not acknowledge the now
recognisable forlorn look on Yuriy's face as we drew
away.

     I am sure that the car must have some timing
mechanism, because my watch said eight o'clock on the
dot as we pulled up outside Tariq's Palace. The driver
again did his feet kissing bit when we arrived and he
had opened the door. Ahmed the head of the household
staff was standing there awaiting my arrival, but if his
job was to let Tariq know that, it was not necessary, as
Tariq glided out the entrance to greet me.

     Out of the side of my eye, I saw Faisel, the driver,
go up beside Ahmed and he must have breathed into
Ahmed's face, because there was a look of pure
astonishment at the pepperminted breath Ahmed must have
smelled. Faisel in my mind was one of those people who
never lost their sense of joy no matter what hand Fate
dealt them in life.

     Gustav at the Bank had briefed me on each of Tariq's
brothers and, in no particular order, I met them as we
went into the dining-room. Rashid, the eldest brother
was the last one whom I greeted. The briefing on him had
said `always treat with caution'. A huge man, all of
twenty stone, with gimlet black eyes with the cruellest
of looks behind their blackness. I immediately made a
note never to make an enemy of that man.

     Dining-room is the wrong word. It changed its
function according to what Tariq, the Master, wanted.
Now it was for dining, later it would be for
conversation, later on it would be for entertainment. In
size, like so many rooms in Tariq's Palace, as I may
have mentioned previously, it was as big as a tennis
court and its surrounds.

     You can get a sense of tension and electricity in
rooms at times. My arrival caused some of the tension to
disappear. They had been arguing about their falcons,
and two of the younger brothers had registered more
successes than the others over the two days, and had
been joking the others about it. I subsequently found
out that more than a million euro had changed hands over
the two days' entertainment, plus a stallion, plus two
cars.

     My two previous body slaves glided over and
prostrated themselves at my feet, each kissing a foot. I
thought it a little strange with their Master being
present, but apparently Ahmed had let all the slaves
know the evening was for my benefit, as I was their
Master's honoured guest.

     `These two have taken a shine to you, it appears,'
Tariq said in Arabic with a laugh.

     `Food and `Drink' as I had identified them to myself
previously were standing to the back and side of the
sofa divan, clearly happy with my presence there, and
letting all and sundry among the other slaves know just
that.

     Tariq enquired about my wrist and its hairline
fracture. I held up my arm, now without its plaster
cast, but with a strong elasticised bandage around it,
and held it up and twisted it around in the air.

     `A bit tender, but otherwise absolutely fine. You
have a great hospital and medical services here in
Dahra,' I replied.

     Conversation had not really taken up again, but a
buzz soon started as the first of the food began to
arrive. It ran the gamut of national to international to
local to general financial affairs. I never introduced a
topic, but kept up with the flow, and even joined in the
banter. It was most enjoyable to be able to keep up with
the fast flowing repartee, and I think that the brothers
were really happy in the family company of each other.

     Two things I noticed. There were no women present,
either family members or slaves, and the conversation
had been all evening in Arabic, which in other
circumstances might have been taken as an insult to a
guest, but here, it was in reverse. It was an acceptance
that somehow I was part of their family circle. I also
subsequently learned that although Rashid, alone among
the four brothers, was word perfect in English, he was
not fluent. So in a way, I was doing him a favour into
the bargain.

     One of the younger brothers in a lull in the
conversation then spoke. It would not be possible to say
between courses, as there seemed to be a continuous flow
of food and drink being served, and I had noticed that
there was no alcoholic drink at all, not that that
bothered me in the least.

     `Are you settling in ok, Jonathan, here in Dahra?'
one of the younger brothers asked.

     `Yes, indeed. The heat of the climate will take a
little getting used to. But the work at Deckams is going
very well. The office machinery is well oiled, and I
have a marvellous head of staff.'

     `Ah, yes, the Swede. An interesting man,' and there
was a round of smiles among the brothers.

     `Yes, indeed, he has the office running perfectly.
May I say something on that score, if it is not
impolite. We have had an unending string of new clients
opening accounts. They all seem to know your family.'

     The room rocked with laughter. Tariq came to the
rescue when he had dried some tears in his eyes, he had
been laughing so hard. I really enjoyed his sense of
wicked humour and of laughter.

     `We mentioned the Bank's name to some of our
family's cousins and friends. We are not a large nation
as you know, so we are `known' as you say. That, in
fact, is a good joke, which I must tell to the Sheik one
day'.

     `We said that you, not the Bank, had helped us to
our financial advantage, but did not say how. Nothing
more. In our world, we look after our friends and spread
the word of our friendship. We let people arrive at
their own conclusions. Which, in fact, brings me quite
nicely to another matter. Is that all right, brothers?'
And Tariq looked around at the smiling faces of his four
brothers, who nodded in agreement.

     Tariq clapped his hands twice and the great doors at
the end of the room eased open, and in walked the six
slaves whom I had ticked off in the Gus Jennings, the
stable overseer's catalogue. They had obviously been
bought by Tariq for his brothers after all. All six of
them. He must have fended off some bidding to get all of
them, because they were prime manhood. Neither the
brothers nor Tariq, nor any of the slaves for that
matter, had in fact looked over to see the heavy doors
opening, they had continued to look at me and my
reactions.

     The six men, all Caucasian or Slav types, walked in
totally naked, not a single item of ornamentation on
them, apart from the ankle bracelet and what appeared to
be a golden bootlace hanging around each of their necks,
one end of which was in a dime sized loop and the other
end of going through the loop and hanging down between
their pecs.

     Their bodies were light oiled with something as the
light reflected off them. Body hair had been trimmed, to
something less than a crew-cut on their heads, to a
trimmed but not shaved area of hair over the pubic bone.
Each of them was with two inches of each other in
height, the median being around 5 feet 11 inches. Their
shoulders were wide, their chests well proportioned,
biceps pumped up but not overly so. Their cocks were at
half erection, which I thought a little odd, because it
was impossible that six men just walking into a room,
would each have the bones of a boner, so to speak. But
they clearly had. I would subsequently learn that a
small two inch butt plug inserted an hour previously
would cause such an erection.  Such was my innocence
then.

     The six walked in proudly and unselfconsciously and
lined up in front of the throne like chair on which
Tariq was sitting and on unspoken command dropped to
their knees and made obeisance to him, with their
foreheads touching the marbled floor. They stayed in
that position.

     You could have heard the proverbial pin drop, as
they say. My two body slave Food and Drink had not
broken the rhythm of the light touching thumb massages
which they had been doing to my shoulders and neck.
Everyone of the brothers was looking at me. I was
missing some point or other.

     Tariq then looked over at Rashid who was as it
seemed the head of the family generally, but not in this
Palace. Some form of protocol was being observed here.

     I noticed that Gus Jennings, the stables overseer,
was standing now to the left of Tariq's throne-like
seat.

     Rashid smiled further and said, `You have done our
family a service and my brothers and I wish to thank you
with these gifts.' He looked over at the youngest of the
brothers who got to his feet.

     Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, said something.
The first in the kneeling line of slaves got to his feet
and went to meet the youngest brother, who took the
golden bootlace in his hand and led the slave over to
me. The slave went on his knees and put his head on the
floor in front of me. The brother then kissed me on both
cheeks. I was marbleised. I could not move. I could not
breathe. I could not think for myself. Had this man just
handed over a slave to me?

     The next two brothers did the same. The Tariq came
over with the fourth slave and finally, Rashid got to
his feet and with one bootlace in either hand led over
the last two slaves. When he had returned to his divan,
there were six muscled bodies in obeisance before me.
The confusion of emotions ran a gamut through my body
and a helter skelter of conflicting thoughts ran through
my mind.

     Tariq broke the into my confused reverie.

     `We hope you like them and that they give you a lot
of pleasure over the years to come, or for however long
you wish to own them.'

     I looked at him and at the al-Akhri brothers. I got
to my feet and could feel that my knees were weak.

     `I can say without fear of contradiction that your
presents are the most extraordinary gifts that I have
ever received or am every likely to receive. I value
your friendship more than your gifts, but your happiness
in giving then is only equalled, and surpassed, by my
happiness in accepting them.'

     The brothers broke out in a round of applause, with
further laughter. I looked at Tariq for assistance.

     `Three of us said that you would accept them. Two of
my brothers said that you would not.'

     `But, Tariq, what I am to do with them? I simply do
not know. My Villa is large and in the capital, but not
suitable for such splendid presents.'

     There was a further round of laughter. Gus Jennings
came over and gave a command and the six slaves got up,
and each assumed a `rest' position as I subsequently
learned to call it, behind my sofa, with their feet some
two feet apart and their hands clasped behind their
backs.

     It was now around 10 in the evening. Rashid said
something about the next day being a busy one for him
and the evening rapidly came to a close.

     Two of the younger brothers who had lost their bet
on me holding on to the slaves came over and spoke this
time in perfectly modulated English. One had been like
Tariq to the London School of Economics, for applied
macroeconomics, the other had been to Cornell University
in the US, for business studies. While they were all
undoubtedly Arab in their costumes, mannerisms and so
forth, they were also totally Western in their education
and training as well, and slipped between languages and
the worlds which the languages represented with
practised ease. Tariq was bidding good night to each of
his brothers, so they went back over to him.

     Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, came over to me,
to enquire which slave did I want. I replied that I
simply did not know, `All of them. There were gifts were
they not?' He saw that I had mistaken his question.

     `No, I meant, do you want one or more of them for
the night? I can cage up those you do not want now. I
have their files and ownership papers ready for you.'

     `No, Gus, just see them bedded down for the night
and have their files sent to my room. I do not need any
slave now. I can take a better look at them in the
morning. But what am I going to do with them? I have a
large Villa but not suitable for six naked slaves.'

     `I am sure you will find a solution long-term, but
don't worry, you can leave them with me for the next
month. I actually would prefer that. I shall ask the
Master and I am sure that he will not object. However,
if you do leave them here, I will need your instructions
as to how you want them trained. They are all `wild' as
we call it in this part of the world, and most certainly
need extra slave training, to be anyway useful to you.'
He went over to have a word with Tariq still talking to
one of the younger brothers.

     It is quite amazing how much you can read from body
language. Food and Drink were looking dejected and
confused with the six well muscled guys at `rest' beside
them, looking on them as competition for a Master's
attention.

     I began to take a closer look at the six in the
meanwhile, and Food and Drink became even more dejected
looking so I told them to sit out of my way.

     While I had seen the photos of these six young
Adonis types in the slave catalogue, they had been but
six among some 40 or so others. The first was just under
six feet and pure blond. His eyes in this light looked
grey with a touch of blue to them. A firm jaw-line and
perfect six pack under perfect pecs. I looked him
straight in the eyes. His were on the middle distance
somewhere. I pulled lightly on his jaws and my eyes
locked with his. Obviously, he had been trained not to
look at a Master, but as he tried to avert his eyes,
each time, I brought his gaze back to mine. I held the
gaze, and somewhere at the back of his there was fear.

     The second guy was about five feet ten, with light
to fair colouring. I took a hold of his jutting cock,
his being the most erect, and rubbed the tip of my thumb
over the piss slit. It was moist with his pre-cum.
Grasping one of his balls, I held it firmly but not
squeezing it. His eyes widened, and I moved my head so
that I was looking directly into his eyes. He was
petrified. I moved on.

     The third guy was as dark as the others had been
blond and fair. There was a five o'clock shadow on his
chin and looking into his eyes, there was pure hate.
Without taking my gaze of him, I let my hand run down
the outside of his arms which I pulled forward to his
sides from behind his back. I let my fingers lightly
touch the palm of his hand, which was perspiring, on
their travel downward towards more interesting areas of
his anatomy. His eyes smouldered, but now there was
confusion there as well.

     The fourth and fifth men were clearly Slav types and
the best endowed of the six with penises of some seven
and half inches and eight inches respectively, but very
thick. One of them had the most delightful small round
nipples which stuck out most significantly like the teat
on a baby's bottle. While they were sensitive to touch,
they were nothing to the sensitivity of the other, whose
cock went almost slap up against his belly when his left
nipple was gently squeezed. In both their eyes, there
was resignation but defiance.

     The sixth guy looked for all the world like your
typical college jock. Of all the six, his butt was his
prize asset. It was globular and glorious. Although, six
foot four I would say, when I looked into his eyes, I
saw a little boy who was on the verge of tears.

     All in all an interesting six-some. I had just
finished my first look at the six slaves when Tariq came
over. I am glad I had looked at them immediately,
because it gave the impression that I was truly grateful
for the gifts. If the truth be told, I was more
astounded at the gifts than thankful for them.

     Speaking in Arabic, Tariq said, `Absolutely no
problem in leaving your slaves here for as long as you
like. The stables overseer has told me of your housing
crisis.' And he laughed at his own little joke.

     `Tariq, your generosity and that of your brothers,
has left me astonished. I shall clearly have to go
shopping for a new home and as I am here only less than
four weeks, I have not a clue where to start or what a
suitable place even looks like, let alone costs.'

     Tariq became serious for a moment and said, `Do you
want to buy or to lease a place?'

     `I would prefer to buy. I always have. At present, I
am in the Bank's Villa, so the problem did not arise in
Dahra.'

     `If it is not indelicate of me to ask, what would
your price range be if you went into the market?'

     I looked at him for a moment and said, `In all
honesty, something between four and six million euro. I
am a banker, Tariq, not a prince.'

     `For that you can get something very good here in
Dahra. Wait! Hold on a moment! Wait a moment!' he said
as some idea hit him and he moved quickly off towards
one of his departing brothers, the youngest one. There
was a quick conversation. The youngest brother looked
over at me, and the two came back into the room.

     `My brother, Abdou,' Tariq said `is selling his
Palace at the moment, as he is going to Switzerland for
the next three years to head the Sheik's business
operations there. The Palace is a small one by our
standards, the former home of the fourth wife of our
father, but I think it would be adequate for your needs.
He has always found it adequate for his, but then he
only has 20 slaves.'

     `Tariq, you know my price range. I don't quite think
I am in the market for a Palace.'

     The brother, the one who had been to Cornell, looked
at me and said, `I was about to put it on the market
here in Dahra. The price is five million dollars. But I
would be truly delighted if a member of our family were
interested in it. It has a lot of memories of our family
there. My brothers all have their own places which are
much better than mine, and I know that when I return
here, I would not really use it as I have a much bigger
palace on the outskirts of the capital. For that price
it is  yours, on one condition, that if or when you
leave Dahra, you would offer it back first to myself or
my family at the same price.'

     I looked at him. I looked at Tariq. `Done deal', I
said and then put my head in my hands. There was a look
of concern on their faces.

     `My friend, has a migraine hit you?' Abdou enquired.

     I laughed out loud.

     `I just came out to dinner. Now I have bought a
Palace and am going to fill it with slaves. Would anyone
mind telling me where this Palace is?'

     We burst out laughing, and for the second time that
night Tariq had to wipe away tears.

     `You have just bought the Aloe Palace and it is 8
miles - about ten minutes drive - from here. It is 58
miles and about seventy minutes drive from the capital,'
Tariq replied and he and his brother bid me goodnight.

     Gus Jennings, the stables overseer, came back over.
I told him to bed down my six slaves for the night.

     Not knowing the procedure, I asked `Are they put
somewhere altogether or what?

     He looked at as if to say something and then changed
his mind, and said `They will be separately caged. They
are mostly all virgins, except one, so they will not be
put together, just in case. I shall have them ready for
you for proper inspection in the morning. At what time
would be suitable?'

     We agreed eight o'clock. The six slaves had been
listening obviously to the conversation as it was in
English, and some were able to follow it more clearly
than what had been said in Arabic. They dropped to their
knees and made obeisance, and Gus Jennings took them
out.

     I motioned to Food and Drink to follow me and they
visibly perked up.

To be continued...