Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2003 16:57:44 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Kazakh's Story - Chapters 10 & 11

There are the final 10th and 11th chapters of The Kazakh's
Story, a novel about slavery and gay sex in modern
times.

Key words: 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.

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

The Kazakh's Story by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 10 -- Crime and punishment

The Master had taken to having his breakfast on a type of veranda
overlooking the courtyard. It had the advantage that the sun neither hit
it in the morning nor the evening, only when it was highest. The Master
was there drinking a coffee which I could smell from thirty feet away and
reading a pink coloured newspaper.

We both stood, Radek and I, in the sun about twenty feet from the
Master, until turning a sheet of the newspaper he saw us and looked at
us. I ran forward, made a double quick obeisance, and lifting my eyes to
the Master, and put my case in a nutshell, `Master, Yuriy bad. Yuriy
bad.' Five words of a guilty plea, if ever there was one.

The Master, of course, did not know the hell what was going on! Looked
at me and then looked at Radek, who started to explain in fluent
English, and mime and gesture, I got the bit about his finger on one
hand going through a hole made by two fingers of the other. Maybe his
English was not that fluent, but it sounded like a professional lawyer to
my ears.

Oh, the Master understood all right! He slapped the pink paper down on
the table and shouted for Aziz. The slaves were to assemble in the
courtyard. At that time there were just about sixteen or so of us in all
-- Aziz, the six who had arrived with my old Master's overseer, the four
on loan to the Palace from my old Master, the two who had been delivered
to the city house of my Master. Oh, why, oh why had I ever looked at
that little frightened rabbit and his pretty little eyes?

The Master went inside and was to be called when we were all assembled
in the morning sun. He left us waiting a good fifteen minutes in the
sun. Even though it was not yet warm, the sweat was running off me. A
good whisper goes thought the ranks quickly, a bad one like shit thought
an Artic goose. We were not two minutes at display until everyone knew
what I had done and with whom.

The Master came out and called for a cane to be brought from the
re-training room and also the big scissors there. My knees were weak.
The Master was going to have me flogged. That I could take, but to have
my corporal off as well. That I would beg him not to do, and I would
find gypsy blood in my veins and beg him professionally until he
relented.

Someone at the back returned running with one of those four foot long
camel canes and the largest scissors I had laid my eyes on in a long
time. I had understood what the master had said when asking for the
scissors, because that word is in one of my English lessons. I could
feel the sweat running down my back.

The Master took the cane, and swished it in the air. It cut the air
like the bloody big camel cane that it was -- a vicious thing in his
hand. The scissors were in his other hand. He told me to step forward
and then in the same breath called Jiri forward. I did not understand
the words, but he was telling all of what I had done. That Jiri had been
taken by me and that I was to be punished severely.

The Master came up to me and with two fingers bent me over until my
head was just touching my knees. I could feel the eyes of all the slaves
on my backside. I was hoping my buttocks were jammed tight that no one
could see my shivering hole.

The Master handed the camel cane to Jiri and told him to flog my
backside as much as he wanted.

Jiri said something and turned round to look at Radek to get him to say
it in English. Radek told everyone in the courtyard how I had ridden
Jiri for almost an hour -- it could not have been that long, little
rabbit -- and had hurt him. But that he did not want to beat me, because
that when I had finished taking my pleasure on him, I had given him such
pleasure making love to him in so many ways, that he was grateful to the
Master for putting him to bed with me that night -- well, I had given the
little rabbit some pleasure, had I not?--that must count for something,
should it not?

It was not strange that Jiri did not want to beat me in a way, because
in all my years afterwards in the service of my Master, I have never
known a slave wanting to beat another slave unless actually ordered to do
so.

Then the Master said, `does any slave want to punish, Yuriy, for what
he has done?

You could hear a mosquito fly around the courtyard it was so quite. No
one offered to punish me. Now the sweat was running down off my
shoulders and neck onto my face, as I could see the legs of the slaves
back though my own.

The Master said, `if no one wants to punish you, Yuriy, then I shall
have to do it. Stand up,' he said to and held out his hands for the
scissors.

All the words, I did not understand, but I certainly got the meaning
and I certainly saw the scissors. The sweat was in my eyes and I was
about to beg for my corporal, and definitely beg for my balls, when the
Master produced a roll of red ribbon from his pocket and cut off a good
length of it.

What was he going to do? My eyes were fixated on the scissors and on
his hands and on the red ribbon.

`Turn.'

I turned to face the slaves and the Master took the ribbon and tied it
round my cock which was as hard as hard could be with having been forced
back between my legs when I was bent down, and he made a bow of the
ribbon.

The slaves almost doubled over in laughter and their hands behind their
necks in display were moving all over the place.

That was not the end of it, the Master took what was like a white
postcard from his pocket on which there was a word written in red. He
punched a hole through the top of the card with a pen from inside his
coat and threaded the postcard onto the bow decorating my cock. The word
read `Danger'. My poor corporal was being listed as a danger to all!

The courtyard rocked with laughter, but the laughter was on me, because
the Master then said that the `Danger' was not to be touched by me or
by anyone else for one whole week. The ribbon could be taken off when I
was in the shower, but my cock was not to be washed or touched by anyone
but my balls could be, and after the shower the ribbon and its sign were
to be put on again. If I pissed, well, all had better stand aside!

I did not understand the reference to my balls until Radek told me all
what the Master had said. But I found out the following morning when the
ribbon was being put on again after the shower, everyone in the shower
came across to `check' that the ribbon was on `right' and not being
able to touch my cock, they just fondled my balls, and fondled my balls,
and fondled my balls, until I thought that I would cum each time there
and then.

That excruciating torture went on and on for five full days,
particularly fomented by those two slaves who were not at that time even
members of the Aloe Palace, whom the Master called Food and Drink.

When checking my ribbon each time and they did it various times a day,
they did not touch my little corporal as all had been ordered not to do,
but with a lot of giggles and glee, would blow on him and keep blowing on
him until he was jerking around like a marionette on a string.

At times, I was actually holding my legs together, like you know when
you want take a piss but can't because there is no place to piss. But I
could not get the permanent erection down and I can assure you there is
nothing more painful than a totally permanent erection.

For all of this, however, I truly loved my Master because I knew I had
done him wrong and he was punishing me in a manner befitting my crime of
taking the little rabbit. I never missed his return from work which was
now always at five o'clock because he had to drive an hour each day back
from the capital city.

I was five days into my punishment and as usual I was at the top of the
steps waiting for his limousine car to come up into the outer courtyard.
In the new Palace, the Master's car can be seen coming from a mile away
as that evening.

I ran down with my red bow and sign in place. The Master got out of
the car and said `Good evening, Yuriy'. I could have been there in full
Captain's uniform, because he never looked down at my steel hard
erection. Even the thought of him not looking down make me go even
harder.

`How are you this evening?'

`Very well, Master' -- that I had learned to say very clearly.

At that point, the Master looked down at my erection.

`Yes, indeed, you are very well' and he just stroked the tip of my
cockhead with the back of his finger.

Had he punched me in the gut, there could not have been a more definite
reaction. I gave a groan that must have been heard at the front gate.

`Bad is it, Yuriy?

`Yes, Master, bad, very bad'. To myself I thought five days gone,
two days to go.

The Master went in to change and to take his evening swim with the
German slave, Rolf, who was now being his pacemaker. Afterwards, he came
up to get dressed in his bedroom and I was there to attend him. Twice
`accidentally' he brushed up against either my cock or my cock and
balls, and each time I had to clench my legs together or surely I would
have collapsed. The Master watched my antics and continued dressing.

When we went down for the Master's evening meal instead of going
directly in to the eating area, the Master went out and sat on the
veranda and had Aziz assemble all of the slaves.

When they all arrived in less than a minute, as all were generally
around, the Master called me forward and had me face them and called Jiri
forward.

`Jiri, take off the red ribbon.'

Jiri understood that clearly by the Master's gesture.

`Now come around to the back of Yuriy,' which he did.

`Yuriy,' he said to me, `you are not to come until I say so.' I
understood that, because his gestures were clear.

`Now, Jiri, come,' and the Master took Jiri's small hand from around
my back and put it on my erection. I nearly lost control there and then.

`Ready, Jiri,' and the Master made the universal sign of wanking.

Jiri, that once petrified rabbit that he was, actually put his head
from around the back of me where he was standing and grinned at all the
slaves. The slaves, at rest, were grinning hugely.

The Master stretched out his arm, crooked it and looked at his watch,
waited some seconds as if the second hand had to get in place, and said
`Now, Jiri.'

Jiri started a slow jerk up and down my shaft. His tiny fingers touch
my cockhead and its flange and I groaned. When would the Master allow me
to come? The Master had not told me when. Or had he and I had not
understood?

Jiri's fingers touched and gripped and clasped and held and rubbed my
shaft two, three, four times. My knees were tight together, my groans
all over the courtyard, the Master looking at his wrist.

Jerk five of Jiri's hand was it. His grip had become slick with my
copious precum and it now travelled fluidly down my shaft. The edge of
his hand hit my balls ever so lightly on the downward thrust and that was
it.

My privates have never obeyed a wristwatch. My privates would never
have been allowed stay in any army in the entire world because of their
permanently disobedient attitude, and now, it was no different.

Five days pent up seed travelled from my balls and down my piss hole
with the speed of a cannon ball and shot out over the courtyard in a
single bolt of white lightning. Radek subsequently measured the length
pacing it with his feet one in front of the other. My first shot went
all of eight feet, but that was just the range finder. My second and
third shots were just under nine feet on the dry sand and cobbles of the
yard.

Jiri was only getting into the hang of things as how hard to squeeze
and how hard to travel down the now totally slick shaft of my cock. I
shot a total of ten times, I was told and the last time I felt has if I
had shot one of my own nuts down my piss hole.

I had to say, `Jiri, Jiri, please.'

How easily that word was remembered in English and said so beggingly
and grovellingly.

But Jiri stopped there and then, and from that they onwards, I never
really called him `little rabbit' any more in my mind but `friend'.

The slaves just applauded. The Master applauded slowly with a shake of
his head as if not believing what he had just witnessed. He handed me
the postcard and the red ribbon, and told me to put them in the
re-training room just in case ever needed again, which in my case they
definitely were not.

The only thing that left me worried about all of that was the look on
Aziz' face as I went towards the re-training room. He had not been
laughing, not even smiling and I got the clear impression from him that
where punishment was involved, that it was never to be a laughing matter.

The following day in the evening the Master had me attend the breaking
of the slave, Greg. That slave's attitude was trouble. In my mind, he
needed to be ridden and ridden hard.

I do not know what happened in the re-training room, because the Master
made me and Radek leave once we had brought the slave Greg in, but two
hours later, he was broken, and the way he walked out between us
afterwards, and his buttocks clenching his backside, I could have sworn,
well almost sworn that the Master had taken him and had used his
virginity against him. I know he had been a virgin going in because I
had showed him when he was first brought in.

When we showered him after his re-training and I douched him as
instructed by the Master, the douche went in very very quickly and
easily, unlike the previous time. But I think he had been broken in by
the Master, because once we were in the slave quarters about to bed down
for the night, the Master said Radek and I could use him. Which we did
twice each. He did not cry out like a virgin and just kept his eyes
closed until I had finished, well and truly finished, the second time.
It was as if he had lost something that evening, not just his sense of
freedom, but his anal virginity to boot.

But one thing came well of this fiasco of me not having understood that
the taking of the anal virginity of slaves was out of bounds except for
the Master. We were informed of a change in our work schedules which
would now include a class each day for both Arabic and English.

I was very popular when I informed the slaves who had not English of my
video and tapes up in the bedroom upstairs. I think the Master had even
forgotten that he had bought me such precious presents. I told the
Master and he had me bring them down to the room which we used for
classes. I let it be very clearly known that the Master had bought these
things for me, but that even after all their laughing at me in the
courtyard, I was willing to share them, perhaps for a little favour or
two in return in due course!

Then, of all people, Greg whom I had taken so well in bed that night
the previous week was assigned to me and to some others to be my English
teacher. He was just that and he never mentioned what had happened and
he never once made feel little in class for all my many and repeated
mistakes.

If the truth be told, I think he said `excellent' and `very good'
to me more often than to the others. But then, with so few in his class,
we progressed rapidly.

One very very bad thing was avoided in those days as well. The Palace
staff was expanding a lot. The Master had lots of things to do and was
getting more slaves. Someone recommended an overseer to him as Aziz,
though in full charge of the household, never really came into the
gardens and fields to see what needed to be done.

This man arrived, all I remember was that he was Russian and that his
first name was Ivan. As soon as I saw his or literally ran into him as
he came round a corner of the Palace, I knew that he was military. How?
It takes one to know one. He was military, believe you me.

He had physically bumped into me at the end of the Palace near the
garden and when he uttered a curse in Russian, he must have seen that I
understood.

Before you could say the time of day, he knew my name and where I was
from, what I had done in the army. I did not mean to give him the
information. It just seemed to flow out of me. And...I am so ashamed of
this, I told him of Radek my lover and how sometimes I would be each
week with the Master. He had eyes so black and so soulless that had he
asked for anything I would have told him.

And then me said, `let me see your run, Yuriy Andreyvich.'

`Where comrade overseer? I had even fallen into the old ways of
addressing him.

`On the spot, Yuriy Andreyvich, and let me see those knees hit your
belly button each time.'

I ran on the spot for so long my mind went blank as it filtered out the
pain in my legs and lungs.

All the time he was smoking one foul cigarette after another as he sat
on the garden wall. It must have been for all of half an hour at least,
because he had smoked four cigarettes and left the butts on the ground.

When he finally said `Stop', my body would hardly stand still. My
muscles were still jerking and the pain hit me in wave after wave as
cramp set in to my groin area which had been stretched by the high leg
movement.

`I will have that well trained arse of yours, Sergeiy Andreyvich, and
when I am finished with you, I will have your little bumboy, Radek.'

His black soulless eyes made me believe every single word as true, and
I remembered the stories of those wretches whose careers had failed in
the battlefields with the Taliban and who had been taken away to be
interrogated -- debriefed was the official name -- as to why they had
allowed, condoned and assisted in the failure of the troops given to them
to ensure success. I could well have envisaged this Ivan as one of those
interrogators of those unfortunate wretches who never came back to
command not even a platoon of men again, let alone a brigade.

I resolved for the sakes of all the slaves to try and speak with the
Master. My luck was in, in that the Master at times, came to say
goodnight to the slaves as they were bedded down. He called it an
evening inspection, but it was not, he wanted to be near his slaves.

I waited and waited until all were either on their pallets or going
into the communal cells and he saw me. The words so carefully and
painstakingly marshalled in my mind to say to him in English all came
apart like beads off a string, and I could only fall at my Master's feet
and kiss them and I put his foot on the nape of my neck. I know I was
trembling and all I could say was `Yuriy good. Yuriy Master. Yuriy
Radek.'

The Master took me to a side cell from the others and sat me down on a
pallet beside the wall and sat down beside me. He put his hand on my
chest and mimed that I should breath deeply, which I did for some
minutes.

`Now, Yuriy, speak.'

It took a long time for me to tell him and have him understand what had
happened. The Master smiled at me and intertwined two of his fingers and
showed me what he meant putting his two index fingers in a link. I nodded
vigorously. And I imitated this saying that the Master and I were a link
and I and Radek were like two intertwining fingers, another link.

He sent me off to bed as there was another slave waiting to see him,
which struck me as unusual, as I was really the last slave into the
common cells. But no, it was Greg who wanted to talk to the Master.
When I got back to my pallet, Radek was not there. I did not sleep as I
waited for him to arrive from wherever he. But I must have finally
slept, because in the morning I awoke and Radek had still not come
back.

The following morning my worst fears were realised when Bob, who
usually now served the Master's table came running to tell me to come
quickly. It had to be Radek and it was.

He had made it from an upstairs bedroom down to inside the veranda door
trying, I presume, to get out to the slave-quarters but he had collapsed
there. His back from his neck down to the back of his knees was the most
singular and frightening line after line of welts. No line crossed
another. No line was more than a half inch from an other. No line was
nearer to another by the same half inch. It was as if he had been
flogged by a machine such was the perfection, if that is the foul word,
of the beating.

I knew the name of the soulless machine who had done this to my buddy
and lover!

As I lifted him up, his eyes focussed on me and he whispered in Russian
which he spoke a little, `Yuriykin -- that was his pet name for me -- I
would not cry out for him' and then he sort of fainted in my arms.

I carried Radek as best I could to the slaves quarters and started to
put cold water in a compressed towel on his back -- there was nothing
else I had.

The Master came in soon after and his eyes were blazing with controlled
anger. For some reason, he came over and very gently separated the
cheeks of Radek's backside and appeared relieved at what he saw. Radek
had not been with the Master yet, so he was, or at least, had been
intact. When the Master left, I checked myself, and my lover appear to
be still intact as there was no anal bruising or signs of any moisture,
semen or otherwise around his most private orifice.

The Master before going out actually shouted at Bob to go to the house
and to get something which turned out to be tablets in tinfoil. Bob
split two of the tablets and emptied their contents into a plastic cup
and filled it quarter full of water, swirled it round and round, while I
got Radek on his side, so that he could sip and swallowed the dissolved
painkillers.

After that morning I never saw the Russian again. There are those who
say that out of everything, even of evil, there can come some good. Such
was a case here. The Master never again thought of bringing in an
outside overseer, but always promoted his overseers from among the
slaves. The only non-slaves in the Palace were at any time the medical
personnel who came to work for us and specialists who might arrive for a
particular job for a day or two.

But the overseers were from that point onwards only considered from
among the best and most hardworking slaves.



Chapter 11 -- A good life

It was some months afterwards that I got great news. My English was
marching bounds and leaps as we say in that language.

The Master had us all assemble in the courtyard as actually asked us
all who should be promoted to overseer. No one spoke. The mosquitoes
stopped flying. The crickets in the garden could be heard, chirping
`What_was_that? What_was_that? What_was_that?.

And then I heard my name being called out by the Master and he made me
the head of stables, that is the old title for farm manager. When he
handed the most beautiful black onyx fly swish, the symbol of my
authority from him, I was in a state of shock and dropping to my knees,
the only word I could remember in all my English training was `Master,
Master....'.

On turning towards my new slave charges, I saw that my lover Radek's
eyes were bright with pride and although being at `rest', his chest was
stuck out if at `display'like a merganser duck.

An overseer in the Master's Palace is allowed to wear clothes, though
still technically a slave. I took to wearing the local Arab white
shirt-like gallabiya cinched with a leather belt and the some very short
and very loose khaki trousers so as not to keep my privates and little
corporal too confined in the heat. But when in Dahra do as the Dahrans
do, I never went back to wearing shoes, it being too hot, and when I had
to accompany the Master later on, I merely used sandals.

The night of my promotion, the Master asked for me and for Radek to go
to his bedroom suite and he told Radek about me as his first slave lover
and how Radek was to make me forget the burden of my daily duties every
night, and that he was going to show Radek how he had pleasured me the
very first time. My knees were weak at the memory.

The Master told me to strip for him one last time, because from now on,
I would will take from among the slaves those whom I wished.'

I was naked in a trice.

`Display', the Master ordered and I went to a perfect `display'.

He said to Radek, `this, Radek, is how I touched your lover for the
first time' and bending me over and letting Radek see the perfection of
my butt hole, he tongued and rimmed me until my gasps of pleasure were in
a continuous flow, and I was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.

Then the Master slapped me on the backside and said `Now let me see
you take Radek, your lover, and let me see how you pleasure him.'

I looked at the Master and at his own turgid member. `But, you Master,
you need me as well,' I replied.

`First, Radek,' he said and I took my lover in my arms and for over
an hour, in a passion of delights, I caressed and touched and licked and
pinched and tasted my lover's body.

Finally when even I thought that my body or at least certain parts of
it would explode, I entered Radek with a sexual slowness of pure
sensuality. Radek arched and bucked. Radek tried to kiss me, but I gently
rebuffed him and pushed him back. Never once for the first fifteen
minutes did my trimmed pubic hairs touch Radek's, but my cock was
certainly touching the right spots inside my lover who was whimpering
with pleasure and joy.

Then there was some sexual change of gear. I almost withdrew fully and
then pulled Radek's hips back fully on my distended and swollen manhood.
Both of us gave a cry of pleasure. A second time. A third time. My pubic
bone crashed into Radek's perineum creating the emotional havoc akin to
the disturbance of a stone dropping from a height into calm water.

An arch of cum left Radek's penis and shot over his head to be joined
by a second and a third one. I gave a hoarse shuddering cry and released
my pent-up semen into my lover and collapsed into his arms.

That night after I had made love to Radek, I wanted to attend to the
Master's own needs but he whooshed both of us out of the bedroom suite
when we had recovered and told me to bed down in my new overseer's
quarters.

Looking at Radek, the Master said `Whom you invite to spend the night
is your business' and I left for my new quarters with an arm over
Radek's shoulder.

I, Yuriy Obov, lover of Irina, former Spetnaz Captain of the Kazakh
army, big brother of my conscripts and recruits, slave of Jonathan
Martin, am now the farm manager of my Master's estates, lover of Radek,
with more than a hundred slaves to command in my Master' s name.

Not since I stood in my jeep and led my men into battle in Pamir
foothills have I been so happy. I have met both success and failure, two
impostors who live in the same tent. I have tried not making friends of
either. The first will lead you down the path of selfishness, the other
down the path of despair.

My Master has told me that he has plans and things to do and that I am
to be part of those plans.

I, Yuriy Obov, am my Master's most obedient slave.