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CH. 5

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 ...


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