Date: Sat, 04 Oct 2003 21:38:11 +0100
From: Gerry Taylor <gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Market Offer - Chapter 16 - Gay - Authoritarian

This is the sixteenth chapter of part three 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
will be unlawful for you to read where your live, please leave this
webpage now.

Contact points:

e. gerrytaylor78@hotmail.com

w. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Erotic_Gay_Stories

The Market Offer by Gerry Taylor

Chapter 16 -- Visitors

Just when I thought that the afternoon would calm down a bit, Gus
Jennings, who was the deputy Finance Minister's stables overseer,
arrived `to take a look at the new Palace' as he put it, but from the
look in his eye, I knew that he had something else on his mind. It turned
out that he was still unset about having recommended an unsuitable
overseer to me, the Russian guy Ivan, but I told him, not once, but
twice to put that thought out his mind.

I reminded him how `his' six slaves -- Radek, Flavio, Dumi, Vitali, Bob
and Rolf whom he had trained for a month while I was first settling in
the Aloe Palace -- were doing so superbly and working so well. That
seemed to really please him.

I asked him how his boss, Tariq al-Akhri, the deputy Finance Minister was
-- he was well - whenever Gus saw him. With that, Aziz, my head of
household came out to greet Gus. They greeted each other with slight bows
of the head like lords of all they surveyed and monarchs of kingdoms
whose rights of overseership there was none to dispute.

Gus paid Aziz the ultimate tribute of one civil servant to the other --
the confidence between equals -- `Aziz, we have a new head of household
who would make you weep. I won't tell you the disasters we have had.'

With that Yedo, Aziz' assistant, arrived -- all six foot eight of him -
and I heard Gus murmur `My god, I heard of this guy. They build them big
in Bulgaria.'

My other two guests for dinner that evening were Felipe and Ramon, the
two Spaniards who had built the tennis courts at the Aloe Palace. There
was such a demand for the sport in the evening before and after swimming,
that it was almost taken for granted by me that sooner rather than later
I would be asked if there were to be new courts at the Lime Palace, and
so there were, beside the handball, volleyball and basketball areas.

The two Spaniards were staying for some days, though the slaves had done
most of the backbreaking work in double quick time -- such was their
eagerness to have the new courts.

`Felipe, I have assigned you again Vitali and Ross as your body slaves
while you are here. And if you don't mind, Ramon, I shall have Ali and
Jiri look after you again. Their massage technique has improved greatly
in the past year.'

Ramon who had been so uptight last year about going nude and about being
given a body slave, merely said, `Thank you, Sir Jonathan.'

Felipe smiled broadly as he remembered his pleasure previously at the
hands and tongues and cocks of Ross and Vitali.

Dinner that evening which had been one of Flavio's usual superb
offerings, a soupe de tous les legumes whose vegetables he mentioned were
all from our farms, a veal tournedos with a cold cream and chive sauce --
excellent after the heat of the day - and ice-cream with afresh apricot
sauce. My guests lingered over the coffee and a good Carlos I brandy, and
I realised that even ex-pats abroad need the comforting contact of their
own from time to time.

We had all retired early because the weather had become unusually sultry
and humid for October, even with thunderstorms at night in the mountains
and rumours of flash floods in the lower hills. I was putting some papers
back in the safe, when my eyes fell on the reports on the some slaves
which I had requested from Josh Green in the Grand Cayman and which had
arrived a few weeks earlier.

What with the amount of work at the Bank and the transfer over to the
Lime Palace a number of things had got behind. I resolved to see Stan,
the water overseer, and Yuriy, the stables' overseer, the following day.

That night my playmate for the night was Bryce Sands and to my knowledge
he was unique at the Lime Palace in that he was a widower -- his wife
having been killed in a car crash before he was `lifted'. He had worked
in a garage in Texas.

At twenty nine, he was lanky and nicely muscled but not overly so, and as
he stood at `display' in the bedroom suite, like so many other slaves
on their first night with me, their Master, he eyes betrayed his
nervousness.

I believe in touching and gentle talking close to the ear of any such
individual and I put my hand on his heart and said `Bryce, calm down.
Tonight is a night for you to enjoy yourself. Did you buddy Scott not
tell you anything nice about his night here with me?'

`Master, he could not stop talking about it. You just don't know Scott
when he gets going.'

`And you, Bryce, what do you like sexwise?'

`The truth, Master?'

`The truth, Bryce.'

`I like to fuck missionary style, but what I really like is just to have
someone in my arms -- but that not really sex is it, Master?'

`Wrong, Bryce, it is in fact two types of sex. Now while I take a quick
shower, I want you to think of something for me.'

`Yes, Master,' he said a bit puzzled.

`Yes. Tell me when I come out, the three things you don't like about
the Lime Palace?'

`That I don't like about the Lime Palace -- you mean about living here
or working here or what?

`The three things you think are wrong and should be changed. Now let me
grab a shower.'

`Ok Bryce. Time up,' I said as I came out of the shower towelling my
hair.

`Well, Master, the first thing would have to be the size of the laundry
bill,' and he grinned from ear to ear. As the slaves did not wear
clothes, there was no laundry as such.

I could not help but grin back at his impish sense of humour.

`No seriously, Master. The heat perhaps. It is very hot here at times,
out in the fields.'

I just looked at him and waited for him to continue.

`The food is a bit monotonous.'

The slaves just ate the special diet biscuits to keep them perfectly fit
and at the correct body weight.

`The heat. The food. What else Bryce?'

He hesitated. He was not good at concealing his thoughts, which the jut
of his doubting shoulders revealed.

`Spit it out, Bryce. Do you think I am going to think less of you for
saying that I am a bastard?'

`Oh, no, Master, it's not you...not you at all. It's just that some of
the other slaves do not work very hard in the fields and leave work for
the others to do?'

This was news to me and the sort of news I did not like. But that was not
his problem. So I pulled him to the bed and lay back missionary style,
and said `Now what were you saying about sex, Bryce?' as I raised my
legs and put them on his shoulders.



At inspection that the following morning those of the prisoner-slaves who
completed their first thirty days at the Palace without problem received
a gold necklace each. Even though they had seen others wearing theirs,
when it was their turn to actually get their own, they seem to be most
astonished at getting something so beautiful and so uniquely personal.
But in a way as well, it was a sign that they now belonged to me, in both
title and in possession.

I mentioned after breakfast to the overseers the problem of the work not
being done which Bryce had mentioned.

Greg murmured, `A little retraining, I think, Master.'

Yuriy was over from the Aloe Palace and Stan suggested oxen buddies with
each of the new arrivals for at least sixty days, and I agreed to this.

Aziz did not offer an opinion one way or another, but noted that buddies
were to remain in place for double the time where necessary.

I mentioned to Stan and Yuriy that I wanted to speak with them privately.
Yuriy who had the more pressing duties came in first into my study.

`I am sorry, Boss, about the workers. That is my fault. I am sorry.'

`Yuriy, that is not what I want to talk to you about. I am sure you will
sort that out, one way or the other and perhaps with a couple of days
retraining where your powers of persuasion fail you.'

I was thinking of the utter fear he had put into Marek and Jerzy when
they first arrived with a single roar in Russian.

`No, I wanted you to see this' and I showed him a file with `Yuriy
Obov' stamped across its front.

`I wanted to find out more about you and had an investigation done.'

Yuriy did not seem to understand.

`An enquiry into your background in Kazakhstan. You had a fine army
record there.'

`Yes, Boss, I joined the army two days after my eighteenth birthday and
when I was nineteen and a half, I got into the Spetnaz. I...'

He seemed to be lost for words for a second.

`I was a comfort boy of one of the majors who got posted to the Spetnaz
and he had me transferred. No sooner was I there, than he found someone
else, and I just continue training for the special services with an old
Major who became my friend and teacher.'

`Yes, and you were promoted in the field to Lieutenant and then to
Captain.'

`Yes, Boss, those were great days on the Afghan border. Others did not
like it. But the lads and me loved the work.'

`It says here that you have no family.'

`No, Boss. My parents were both sent to work camps. My grandparents on
Lake Ozero reared me. I have no brothers or sisters.'

`Girlfriend, perhaps?'

`Yes, Boss, a number of girlfriends. None for very long, because we
would be moved around. I remember one girl very well, Irina. I was with
her the longest. That was in Chimkent, but she was from Bukhara in
Uzbekistan. A great girl. She was only twenty and worked in a food
factory.'

I slipped a photo across the table to Yuriy. It showed a very pretty
blond woman in her late twenties with her two hands on the shoulder of a
blond haired boy outside a shop.

`Boss, that's my Irina. Where did you get it?'

`The man hired to do the job located her. Look again at the photo. Who
else do you see?'

`Irina and a boy.'

`Not `a boy', Yuriy, your boy. His name is Yurikin -- little Yuriy. He
is your son. I thought you would like to know.'

Yuriy was not saying anything but his eyes were filling up very quickly.

`You are a great worker here, Yuriy, and I though you would like to know
about this. You see the food shop behind Irina. That is her shop, which
has been bought for her and for Yurikin. She moved back to Bukhara. She
now supplies four of the biggest hotels in Bukhara with specialty foods
flown in from Europe to her shop alone.'

Yuriy's wet fingers were touching the photo of his son and his former
girlfriend.

`Read the file then it goes in the safe. You will see one thing though.
Irina is thinking of marrying a Sergeiy Dimitrikov. He was also in the
army.'

`I know him. He was in the Spetnaz unit with me. He was a strange lad, a
very gentle lover, and if he marries Irina, he will be good to her.'

`I had hoped, Yuriy, that you would say that. I cannot do anything about
your status here, but we can both look out for Irina and Yurikin, if you
let me help them.'

He nodded and started to read the file slowly.

Twenty minutes later, Yuriy pushed the file back towards me. He kissed
the photo of his son and put it inside the folder.

`That was a lifetime away, Boss. My new life is here.'

Yuriy Obov's ability to put things into their proper perspective was one
of his greatest organisational talents.

When the following year's updated report came in, Irina was holding a
baby in her arms in front of the shop with her new husband beside her and
Yurikin again to the front, this time holding a skateboard.

When Yuriy saw the photo, he just grinned and said `Sergeiy Ivanovich
could always shoot hard and fast, and it looks like he has not lost the
talent for it. Do you see how much, Yurikin, has grown in a year, Boss?

Just look at how big he is!' and as he went to kiss the photo, Yuriy
stopped and looked at it again. Sergeiy Ivanovich Dimitrikov had his had
resting over his chest and his first two fingers were intertwined.

Yuriy told me it had been their special sign -- Yuriy and Sergeiy --
Sergeiy and Yuriy. It was as if he had known when the photo was being
taken that one day Yuriy would see it and know that he was taking care of
the family, just as he had been batman to Yuriy in the Spetnaz. This all
came out much later, when Yuriy and I talked and told me some of his army
yarns. But now, he kissed the photo and again slipped it into the folder
for another year.

The other slave overseer I had wanted to see was Stan Mercer, the New
Zealand geologist, who had found me the seemingly inexhaustible supply of
water on the property of the Lime Palace.

`How did you know I wanted to see you, Boss?' was the first thing he
asked.

`I didn't, Stan, I have a report here I want to talk to you about. But
you first.'

`Ok, boss. I have been puzzled for the past month by the water pressure
in the two wells.'

He was referring to the two wells that we had drilled down to just around
four hundred feet under the Lime Palace lands. Geology is not my strong
suit, and Stan knew that, so I let him explain matters in his own way.

`Boss, we have been taking water from the wells now for over six months.
There should be very very slight drops in the pressure of the water from
time to time, but there is not.'

`Stan, I know you explain things well, but simple English please.'

`Boss, if you pour water out of kettle, the kettle should get empty.
Here the water being forced out of the earth is being forced out at the
same pressure -- almost the same pressure -- all the time. That means
that the water reservoir underneath us is filling up from a height just
as quickly as we take the water out.'

I was looking at him. That sort of made sense, I think.

`It was only last week, when the rains fell in the mountains and there
were flash floods in the foothills that the penny dropped when I saw the
readings.'

Again, Stan had lost me and he saw it.

`Boss, three days after the rains in the mountains, the pressure went up
and almost off the scale in the wells. The water from the mountains had
somehow got down, or forced previous waters already in the ground, into
our reservoir. This, Boss, is like having a kettle with the water pouring
out of it at one end, as in our wells, and a tap of water filling the
kettle the same time into the other end, like the rains from the
mountains.'

`So what you are saying, Stan, is that we have truly an inexhaustible
supply of water.'

`You have it in one, Boss, in one!'

I let that piece of good news sink in a second, and smiled at my own
basic grasp of hydrology.

`Well, Stan, let me give you also some good news. I had a report done on
you back in New Zealand.'

Stan had gone very still.

`I did not realise you had no family at all.'

`No, Boss, I was reared in an orphanage.'

`Yes, just outside Invercargill. St Michael's Orphanage. Then to the
local school and on to the University of Dunedin on a half-scholarship.'

`Yes, Boss. Those were the days. I worked in a pub in the evenings. That
was my one full meal a day, and pocket money to get through the uni
year.'

`Stan, St. Michael's Orphanage is still there and through an
organisation I am connected with, the Buddy Foundation, I have set up a
two million dollar trust fund for the orphanage. The immediate effect was
that they all got new pyjamas and swimming togs among other things. But
the orphanage will get each year from now on about a quarter of a million
euro each year in dividends from the trust to help it. I also want you to
look at this tape. Will you put it in the video over there?'

Stan obliged and a scene unravelled of persons in gowns sitting before a
stage, where someone was reading from a text:

`The Buddy Foundation is pleased to announce the five million dollar
endowment of the Stanley Kingsley Mercer Chair of Geology at the
University of Dunedin and wishes the senate of the University well in
finding a first suitable candidate for this new Chair' and then the
screen went grey.

`It's my way, Stan, of saying thanks for all your hard work. If you
want, we can get a yearly update on the orphanage.'

`You know, Boss, at times things were so bad financially at the
orphanage that we used share shoes with one another when we had to go
out. Yes. I think I'd like to see how the kids get on there each year.
'

It was typical of Stan that he thought of the orphanage first before
himself or the new chair at the university that had been created in his
name and honour.

Statistically speaking, Stan was in the majority of the slaves at the
Lime Palace. The majority who had no family in the world other than their
fellow slaves.

To be continued..