Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  While I chose a record, my father served dessert and coffee.

  After the meal, our two masters went into the living room with a drink that my father served them while we put everything in order in the kitchen and dining room. When we finished, my father and I did a load of laundry in the basement and we took turns ironing and folding clothes that I had already washed and dried that morning.

  My father remained silent. He seemed pensive. I left him to his thoughts, hoping to help him recover from what he had just experienced.

  Chapter 21

  Everything went without a hitch, until Jean’s shift started. Upon his arrival, our master introduced him to my father.

  “Well, well,” he said with a menacing smile. “Father and son. I see that it’s family oriented. It must be in your blood. Interesting. Why and for how long is he here?”

  “Michel is trying to understand his son,” my master replied. “He’s here until tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So I have all night and part of the morning to help him understand Max.”

  “You’ll do nothing to Michel without checking with me first. He has just started, and I don’t think your ‘teaching’ methods are suitable for his level.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “It’s already decided, Jean. And don’t think you can hide your little torture sessions. I know very well what you’ve been doing to Max ever since you began working here. Even what you did that night in the dungeon before he became ill. Do you understand me better now?”

  Jean responded with a sarcastic smile, adding, “Okay, I can continue to torture Max, since you see no problem there.”

  “Be careful, Jean. I can terminate your contract very fast. And remember that you also have your weaknesses, if you see what I’m getting at.”

  I didn’t see anything at all, but judging by Jean’s reaction, he understood too well. I even thought I saw him go a little pale. Perhaps my father and I would spend a peaceful night after all.

  The evening passed without too much difficulty. Around nine, our master asked my father to read to him.

  Dad sat on the floor in front of my master, and read several pages of the Treatise of Buddhist Philosophy that I had begun reading to my master a few days earlier. It was a book full of reflections on the human condition and its limits, about happiness and unhappiness, pleasure and pain, a book that gave you the will to live, despite the difficulties of life.

  I put on some relaxing music, filled my master’s glass with scotch and went to find a book for myself. After I made my selection, I headed to my favorite spot in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a window corner by the fireplace.

  For the first time in days, I felt good, really good; that was until Jean returned to the room. He came and leaned casually against the wall beside me, his crossed ankles, only a few centimeters from my legs. He knew too well that his presence alone would be enough to ruin my pleasure. I tried in vain to concentrate on my reading. Every time I succeeded, he moved a little bit. Realizing, the futility of my efforts, I offered to give him a blowjob. He refused. He sat down, leaned back against the wall, and ordered me to sit between his legs with my back to him. In this position, he expected me to continue my reading but aloud this time.

  “If I do that, the noise might disturb Master Teka.”

  “You only have to whisper. As long as I can hear you, that’s all that matters.”

  I tried to concentrate on my reading, but he enjoyed tugging my nipples, balls and cock. He scratched, pinched and squeezed them. He also bit my earlobes and shoulders. “Don’t stop reading,” he told me whenever I slowed down.

  An hour later, Master sent his two slaves to bed, thus ending my torment.

  It was earlier than usual, but I suspected he wanted to be sure I had recovered all my strength for my approaching ordeal. He may have also wanted to give me the opportunity to discuss things with my father, because Dad was now allowed to talk on the condition he addressed our master and his two guards with all due respect and didn’t take unreasonable advantage of his right to speak to me.

  My father entered my room and headed to Gabrielle’s old bed. “This guard looks like a real bastard.”

  “Who? Jean?”

  “Yeah. He scares me.”

  “Me too. I’m afraid of him.”

  “I... I like your master,” my father admitted while looking down.

  “He is also your master, until tomorrow.”

  “I find it hard to understand the whole concept of slavery and have even more difficulty in perceiving myself as such.”

  “It’s not just a perception; it’s what you are deep inside yourself. If you have nothing of a slave in you, then there is no way you can perceive yourself as such. If you’re made for slavery, it’s still possible that you won’t manage to live a life in slavery. But you’ll find it even more difficult to lead the life of a master or even an ordinary freeman’s life. As I’ve told you before: we are what we are. Whatever you try to do, nothing will change your true nature. You can either accept or reject it. But I don’t know anyone refusing to be true to himself who is really happy.”

  “I was happy before. It was meeting your master that disturbed my peace.”

  “Were you happy, pleased with your peaceful little life or just lethargic?”

  Under normal circumstances, my father would have jumped on me for suggesting he was lazy, but tonight, he just remained thoughtful.

  “I’m not sure we can be happy all the time. Being satisfied with our life, that’s the main thing, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe, yes, but I wonder if it’s what we tell people to force them to keep quiet and stay out of trouble, so that they don’t stir too much or rebel. If people tried to be all the time themselves, pure and simple, or if they found their own ways to be happy, there would be a lot of upheaval. Too much change can be frightening, especially for leaders. But I believe that it’s necessary to make the most of our life, even if we lose it by taking risks or daring too much. I would much prefer to die after living to the full than not ever getting the chance to really live.”

  “And, for you, life is slavery.”

  “Exactly. There is not a day that goes by without me having a challenge to take up, not a day when I don’t have to prove my willpower, courage and generosity. I have never lived so much and so intensely than since I met my master.”

  “And these injuries?”

  “Warrior’s injuries. Recently, my master has been preparing me for the final battle, the one after which I will be officially declared a slave. This test is always of the utmost severity. He wants me to be ready for that big day.”

  “But what did he do to you?”

  “What have they not done to me? You saw the cabinets in the basement. I don’t know if there is a single instrument that they didn’t use on me. And yet it wasn’t those contraptions that made my situation the most difficult. I was sick a few days ago. I think I had just reached the limit of my physical and psychological endurance. So my master stopped everything and said that I should rest until the day of the big event. It doesn’t mean that I’ll do nothing until then, but they will just let me live a normal slave’s life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The sort of life we had today. Labor and some ‘games’.”

  “‘Games’? I thought I was going to drown in that pool. And when Jerry beat me, I’d have screamed my head off if pride hadn’t prevented me from doing so.”

  I laughed and received a smile in return.

  “I understand you quite well, Dad, believe me. But that was only a little discomfort. Nothing more. You know that as well as I do. I’m sure that things could easily have been much worse.”

  He didn’t reply. Our master had kept the game at a bearable level for him. I’m sure Dad appreciated that fact.

  “I don’t know if I’ll stay until tomorrow afternoon. I need time to get my bearings and to think. I feel as if I have spent the day on Mars or some othe
r strange place.”

  I laughed even harder. Sometimes, it was like living on another planet. I had thought the same myself on more than one occasion. This life, my life, was somehow different from anything you would usually encounter on this Earth.

  I was about to fall asleep when Jean came into the room. “So, pile of shit, asleep already are you?”

  “No, sir, I’m awake.”

  “You know what I think?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I think someone must have branded you with a hot iron at the moment you were born. The mark of a slave must have been burned into your flesh. You are a slave. You’ve always been one. It’s a mistake that you’ve been free all these years. You owe eighteen years of slavery to your masters. You won’t be able to repay this debt in your lifetime. So, you should suffer every moment of your life from now on. We must humiliate you, torture you, deprive you of your basic needs and make you fear each moment to come by making you suffer worse pains every minute. The life you lead here is too soft. Your master is too good to you, you little piece of shit. What do you say to that?”

  His words had excited me so much that he couldn’t miss my reaction. My cock was already like a tent pole under the blanket. He was good at frightening and exciting me at the same time. He came into my room, scolding or lecturing me about something that had occurred during the day, leaving me excited, eager to let him invade my asshole as savagely as he’d like; but he usually left and came back only when I was asleep, to force me out of my bed with a whip, his fists or feet. Then he shagged me like a wild beast, often forbidding me to come. But sometimes, for no particular reason, he put a hand on my cock and gave me an order: “Come, you little shit. Now!” His harsh tone was enough to trigger my ejaculation.

  Tonight, I replied, “Thank you, sir. You’re the first person to formally recognize me as a slave.”

  “No, I’m the first to formally recognize you as a dirty little lump of stinking shit.”

  I teased him, “If that’s what you prefer, sir.”

  He approached and I feared a beating was about to follow, but he surprised me by sitting on the bed and stroking my face, gently.

  “I’d love to have you as a slave. But I can’t afford the price that will be offered for you. If, one day, you’re looking for a more demanding master than the one you have here, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  I felt a piece of cardboard being placed in my hand. He had given me his business card! What a strange day! Yet I was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to put me through a lot in the coming days.

  When he left, Dad asked, “Is he always this friendly?”

  “Usually, he is much worse. I’ve never seen him so tender.”

  “I wouldn’t like to see him at his worst.”

  “It’s not without reason that our master warned him not to touch you without asking permission first. He knows what Jean is capable of.”

  My master’s threats seemed effective; Jean didn’t return that night. But our master came into the room instead.

  Something woke me and I opened my eyes to see him sitting on my father’s bed, his hand resting motionless under the cover on dad’s dick. My father awoke with a start, as I had on my first night, and tried to escape our master’s hand.

  “Lie down again, Michel.”

  My father obeyed. When our master placed his hand back on his cock, my father strained so much that I’d have thought my master’s hand was a glowing ember.

  Our master spoke in a soothing tone of voice, “Calm down, Michel.”

  “I... I’m not...”

  “Gay? Bisexual? This is just my hand. It’s motionless. Nothing bad will happen to you. You have nothing to fear.”

  My father waited, tense, as if he was waiting for a dentist to pull out one of his teeth. He was almost hyperventilating, twisting his hands in the sheets. I reached out and took one of them in mine. He looked at me. I smiled. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and then tried to relax. When he succeeded, our master said: “There we are! That’s great.” Then he removed his hand, came across to my bed and pulled back my blanket, indicating he wanted to have sex with me.

  I stripped him of his robe as if helping a king to undress. Without waiting for him to sit or lay down on the bed, I began to lick every part of his neck, behind his ears, down his back, and all over his ass. Then I helped him to lie face down and continued to lick and kiss his entire body, slowly, ceremoniously, concentrating on the most sensitive places and taking great care to do everything for his pleasure. When he seemed to enjoy something more, I kept doing it a little longer. If he was less responsive to my caresses, I switched places.

  After turning him over, I gave his front a tongue bath and then chewed his nipples. I snuffled his armpits and sated myself with his scent. I licked and chewed the hair there, which curled as much as those on his head. I continued down his body until I reached his feet, which I also washed with my tongue, including the soles, even sucking a few toes into my mouth.

  The window was open. A gentle breeze caressed my back, bringing with it the smell of grass, flowers, and the trees surrounding the house, but my master’s scent rivaled all the summer’s aromas, stunning me with its manliness. I felt good. Happy!

  At some point, my saliva dried up, but I didn’t want to neglect any part of his body, reserving his cock for my dessert. When I finally reached there, my master had a full blown erection. But I still took care of his balls first, bathing them with my tongue, sucking each of them into my mouth, before rolling them around gently, just like he loved me to. I also tongue-teased his anus, which wasn’t easy, as he was lying on his back. Then I finally took care of his shaft, licking it slowly toward the glans.

  My master sighed with satisfaction as I covered the whole length with my tongue, lifting his ass off the bed to express his pleasure.

  For a while, I just lapped the top of his cock, inserting the tip of my tongue into the small hole. Then I took his whole dick deep into my throat, massaging him with my muscles, and sucking with all the skill and art learned in recent months.

  He repaid me by saying, “You can come whenever you want.”

  My own cock was so stiff, the slightest touch would be enough to finish me off. When he started to ejaculate, he pulled his cock from my mouth and sprayed me with his juice. It was the first time he had flooded my face that way. That was enough to make me come too. I turned my lower body so as not to wet him with my sperm and sprayed my cover.

  I helped my master back into his robe. Wishing us good night, our master left. I went back to bed. Overwhelmed.

  “Aren’t you going to wash your face?” my father asked a little later.

  “No. I want to keep his scent on me as long as possible.”

  I didn’t know what to think of my father’s dreamy look. Was he just tired, or disgusted by what I said or maybe just pensive?

  “He didn’t make the slightest effort to give you sexual pleasure.”

  “He didn’t have to, Dad. His pleasure is my pleasure. I came, didn’t you see?”

  “You love him that much?”

  “It’s more than that, Dad. I revere him. I wish I could serve him my whole life. But that’s not possible.”

  “So, it’s true, he’ll sell you?”

  “In a few days. He doesn’t want me to stay here because of what happened. He fears for my life. That’s why he hired guards until my departure. I’m almost sure that once I’m no longer here, he’ll end their contracts. He believes he can take a good care of himself without them. It scares the hell out of me. I fear for his life, too.”

  “And this sale, it’s not forever, is it? I mean, how long will you be sold for?”

  “I don’t know. Two or three years, maybe.”

  “Three years is a long time, especially if someone cruel buys you. Are you sure you want to commit yourself this way for so long?”

  “Yes, Dad. I am quite sure. Now go to sleep, will you?”

  ~.~.~

  The ne
xt day, Jean woke us a little before five o’clock, screaming, “Come on, guys, wake up!” I almost fell off my bed. As an alarm clock, you could definitely find better.

  My father, still half asleep, muttered insults at Jean. In fact, I don’t think he was aware of where he was or who he was addressing his reproaches to.

  Jean bypassed our beds in three strides, grabbed my father by his hair and snarled, “What? What did you say? Repeat that!”

  My father quickly came to his senses. “I didn’t know it was you, sir. I thought I was at home. Excuse me.”

  “Beg forgiveness on your knees, slave. And lick these boots well. They are muddy, and I want them clean. Hurry up!”

  What a rude awakening for my father! He got on all fours, reiterated that he regretted his words and began licking Jean’s boots with the tip of his tongue.

  Jean lifted his foot and pushed the toe of his boot into my father’s mouth.

  My father retched, but courageously continued. I didn’t dare leave the room for fear of what Jean might do to my father.

  “What are you looking at? Come and help your father clean the other boot.”

  I approached and kneeled at his feet. Jean spread his legs wider and I started to work on the other boot, keeping an eye on my father at the same time. He seemed disgusted by this unpleasant start to the day.

  I smiled and licked the muddiest patches.

  Jean lifted his foot and proffered me his sole. I started to lick the dirty rubber immediately. Small pieces of rock and grit had adhered to the rough surface. I swallowed them, trying not to think about the effect they would have in my stomach and my gut.

  When I finished, Jean rested that foot on the ground and presented the other sole to my father, who reached for it with a tentative tongue.

  “Do it better than that,” Jean yelled. “Otherwise I’ll crush your son’s throat under my boot.”