Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  “Yes. It’s just like dominoes. We hope that by bringing down Helena, all those she controls will fall. We’ll find her, eventually,” Johnny added.

  I still wasn’t sure of the probable outcome. “If we don’t condemn them to death, what will happen to them?”

  “Oh, no doubt the community will sell them to a merciless master. They’ll be slaves for the rest of their lives,” Johnny answered, as if there was nothing amiss.

  “But how can we be sure they won’t escape?” Don interjected.

  “Others have been committed to slavery this way in the past,” my master replied. “Their contract stipulates that if they do run away and their master catches them, he may put them to death or at least ensure that they are unable to flee again. Those slaves are aware of what any attempt to escape could cost them. They also know that their new masters will get of us the means to find them and will take as long as it takes to nab them. But generally, they are found very quickly. When slaves run away, unless they stole from their masters before fleeing, they are half-naked and penniless. No one gets far these days without money.”

  “Not to mention other steps the new owners might make to ensure that a rebel slave won’t escape,” Johnny said.

  My master and Johnny exchanged a speaking look. One could only imagine the abominable memories that could be circulating between those four eyes. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear more.

  “What sort of things?” More curious than me, Don asked the question I had been too fearful to ask.

  Johnny answered, “Long ago, a trainer who had tortured two of his pupils to death was passed on to a rich Arabian lord. The trainer didn’t accept his new condition of slavery. He was very rebellious, and almost killed one of his new master’s influential guests before attempting to flee. The lord’s guards caught him. By order of the lord, they amputated their prisoner’s arms and legs. They also pulled out all his teeth. The disabled slave slept in a room of the castle that was accessible to all guests, who could, from that day on, use all the prisoner’s holes safely. Several complained that the slave shouted too much and he insulted them, so he had his vocal cords removed. Then because some foreign guests didn’t want anyone to discover they sometimes had homosexual intercourse, the lord decided to solve this problem once and for all by putting out his prisoner’s eyes. That way the guests didn’t have to worry about being recognized anymore.

  My master interjected, “Don’t forget, Johnny, that this story has been around for so long that no one knows if it’s true. I’ve never known anyone who could attest to its legitimacy. Perhaps this is just another urban legend, typical of the Slave Market.”

  I remained silent, but couldn’t help thinking “there’s no smoke without fire.” The story must have held some truth. When you surrender all rights to one person over another, anything can happen, especially if you believe that this other person deserves everything happening to him. Despite the horrific nature of the story, everyone could see that my cock had swelled noticeably. It was amazing. How could I find pleasure in such barbaric treatment?

  The conversation drifted to lighter topics while we finished eating. Then Don and I cleared the table and served drinks to the masters and guard. I put on some music, and while Jerry and the masters continued their discussion, Don and I tidied up the house.

  Before Don and Johnny left, I thanked them for everything they had done for me and my master. Except for Jerry, my master and I were alone at last.

  I called my father, as I had promised.

  “You all right, boy?” he asked.

  “Yes, Dad. I’m fine. But I’m glad that my ordeal is over.”

  “I hope they weren’t too hard on you.”

  “They did what they had to, Dad. I won’t lie to you; it was hard, very hard. If I had to go through something like that again, I don’t think I’d be able to find the strength, especially now I know what to expect.”

  “Is your master satisfied with your results?”

  “I... I got 96.5%, Dad. He told me he was very proud of me.”

  “I didn’t know they assigned you grades. It sounds more like a University admission exam.”

  “It was an admission exam to captivity,” I replied, laughing.

  “And this gift you had to make, what was it?”

  “The last phalanx of my left little finger is now missing.”

  My father didn’t answer. The line was silent for several seconds.

  “Dad, he could have emasculated me, asked me for my hearing or my sight. It was only a tiny finger tip.”

  “Ever since the beginning, Max, you keep saying that it’s nothing. Whenever you have to take one more step in slavery, you say it’s nothing. Where and when will this finally end?”

  “Dad. I’d give him my life if he asked for it. But he only wants one thing: to sell me to strangers. That request is more unbearable to me than anything else he might ask for. I’d live with him forever, even crippled, even blind, even deaf, even...”

  My voice broke when I imagined my own body, without arms and legs, teeth, eyes and vocal cords.

  “Oh, Max, my boy! Your love for this man will be your downfall.”

  “No, Dad. He’ll sell me. Nothing I can do will prevent that. I have to leave. And when my contract with my new master is over, my life will belong to me again. But what good will it do me, if I have no one I love to offer my life to?”

  I cried again, this time in silence. But I was alone in my master’s office, so he couldn’t see me. I regained control of my voice before continuing the conversation.

  “And you, how are you, Dad?”

  “I gave your mother a watered down version of what I experienced when I spent the weekend with you. She called me all sorts of names: traitor, bastard, debauched. She told me that you couldn’t count on me. I replied, ‘At least, I didn’t run away, I didn’t give Max up.’ She screamed unabated for a while and then she cried. Things haven’t improved since. She left me for several days. I begged her to come back home. She did, but she barely speaks to me.”

  “Dad. You did your best. You tried to understand. Nobody could have done more. You even showed more openness and courage than most of them would have been capable of. I thank you. Mom doesn’t understand and maybe never will. You can’t help it. But perhaps things will improve for you two with time.”

  “I don’t know, Max. I confess that I don’t feel the same man since that momentous weekend. I keep wondering what I am, what I’ve done with my life, what I should do now.”

  “It never hurts to do some soul searching, don’t you agree? Maybe that weekend woke you up.”

  “Max, is he there? Can I talk to him without you hearing his answers?”

  All this sounded mysterious, but I agreed to get my master then left the office.

  After finishing the phone call, my master came back into the living-room, smiling. “Your father is quite troubled by the impact his visit here had on him.”

  “Yes. He told me.”

  “I think he’s emerging from a deep sleep in which he was immersed for years. He asked me for advice about what he should do to clear his way and simplify his life. I told him he didn’t have to make things simpler, the more he tries to avoid obstacles, the less he progresses. There are obstacles that we cannot by-pass; we can only overcome them. His new feelings make him uncomfortable and he fears what he anticipates will happen.”

  “I’d like to help him more.”

  “There isn’t much you can do for him, Max. When you’re in your new master’s place, call him from time to time, as I allowed you here. Do it. Discuss what is happening to him. You are a few steps farther along that path. Maybe you can help him avoid making too many serious errors. Furthermore, I told him he could call me or come here as often as he likes, provided he has arranged his visit beforehand.”

  “When do I have to leave?”

  “In two to three weeks, at most.”

  “You already know who it is?”

  “Yes
. A large landowner in New Mexico bought you. He has several hundred employees, including almost a hundred slaves.”

  These were stunning news. Things were going too fast for me. I was still hoping to convince him to keep me close to him and now I learned that I already belonged to someone else.

  “Master, is it possible to...”

  “Max. I know what you’re about to ask me, and I don’t want to hear that question today or tomorrow or any other day before your departure. If you are staying here for a while longer, it’s only to settle the agreements and other transactions related to your sale and allow all your wounds to heal. You don’t belong to me anymore.”

  That dry and definitive answer tore at my heart. I lowered my head to conceal my pain.

  “I know Max. I know how you’re feeling. I have experienced it too. More than once. But we must be strong. Do it for me. Tell yourself that this is a new trial and in succeeding at it, you will show me your love more than a flood of tears would.”

  “I fear for you, for your life. I feel like I’m abandoning you to your fate.”

  “You’re trying to justify your presence here, that’s all. It doesn’t work. On the contrary, if there is still a risk, I prefer to face it alone. You’re going, Max. End of story.”

  The sun was shining in through the living room windows. One of them was ajar, letting in a breeze that freshened up the room. It was a real Indian summer. By rights, this should be a wonderful autumn day. But my master didn’t want me.

  The days leading up to my departure passed by in a single heartbeat. We spent a lot of the time resolving issues about airfares, act of sale, ownership documents, etc. My master and I had to sign the latter in the presence of the Market’s official notary.

  We also had some visitors. During their stay, I felt I was being robbed of time alone with my master. I blamed these people for not understanding how every minute alone with him was precious. But I didn’t want to displease him, so I tried to be more hospitable, more eager to please and kinder to them than ever. Luckily, Jerry and Samuel had enough sense to leave us alone, so my master and I could enjoy our last moments together.

  On the eve of my departure, I was heartsick. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the next day would bring. My eyes kept filling with tears. One moment, I was ready to throw myself at my master’s feet, begging him to keep me, and the next moment, I was floating in the incomparable joy of being still there beside him. He didn’t want my pleas to stay, so I kept silent, not knowing if I was doing the right thing by not speaking. Maybe the sight of the full extent of my love and the despair into which my future departure plunged me would convince him to keep me by his side. But Don’s words resonated in my mind, “They all tried and he always refused.” Why would it be any different with me?

  That’s why I decided to spend the last day enjoying every moment I had left with my master. But inside was all the pain of someone who had just learned of his lover’s imminent death. I let myself go with the flow, which sometimes threw me against the rocks and sometimes swept me to the shore, not knowing if the next wave would crush my heart completely.

  In the evening, I sat on the floor in front of my master’s chair, reading to him. Suddenly it occurred to me that this was the last time this would ever happen. I stopped reading because this thought was too powerful, too destructive to allow me to continue. I began crying, then sobbing, my sobs interspersed with hiccups, as toddlers sometimes do when they have a big heartache. I couldn’t stop myself. The more I cried, the more my grief swelled, fed by my tears.

  “Max.”

  I knew my master was speaking to me, but I also knew he was going to tell me to stop crying, and I didn’t feel I could obey, so I didn’t answer. I just kept sobbing hard enough to rip my heart from my chest. My sobs were now mingled with groans of extreme pain and total despair.

  “Come here, Max.”

  I threw the book on the table, without stopping to bookmark the page and crawled toward him. Snuggling against him, between his legs, I continued to cry my heart out. My master stroked my hair tenderly, making shushing sounds. He let me cry for a long time, allowing my tears to mitigate some of my distress. Then, he said, “Come and give me a bath, Max.”

  We stood up and headed to the bathroom. I only wanted one thing: to stay snuggled against him until the end of time, feel his warmth flow over me and keep my heart warm as long as it was going on beating, beating for him. “I love you so much, Sir,” I managed to choke out, while walking beside him with his arm draped around my shoulders.

  “I know, my dear, dear child. I know.” He didn’t look at me, but his voice betrayed his emotion, vibrating much more than usual.

  In the bathroom, after turning on the taps and adjusting the water temperature, I undressed him. With respect and reverence. I took my time, caressing, sniffing and kissing every inch of his body as it was revealed, almost as if I was mapping every corner of the Garden of Eden.

  He gazed at me as if he were drinking the love flowing out of my soul, as if he wanted to burn this memory in his mind forever.

  I helped him to settle in the bath’s hot water. Then I grabbed the washcloth and soap, and began to lather him with the same degree of attention. Every action on my part was slow and deliberate, as I noted each of his reactions, savoring my pleasure and his.

  “Why must we inflict this on ourselves, Master? All this suffering?”

  “Two years isn’t that long, Max. If in two years, your feelings haven’t changed, come back and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Why two years though? Why wait?”

  “Because you’re risking your life, staying with me, and I will not accept that risk to something that is so precious to me.”

  I cried. Even though I had promised myself not to do it again. I couldn’t help it; I hurt too much inside. “Master, if you were in my place, and that the person whose life was dearer to you than your own life was in danger, would you go? Could you bear to leave him, to abandon him?”

  “Max, Gabrielle died to save my life. I cannot imagine it happening again. This very idea is unbearable. Don’t you understand? I cannot afford to let you stay here any longer. You have to go. You will leave.”

  “How can you be sure that I won’t be in danger over there?”

  “Because only Johnny and a notary of the Market know where you’re going. I’d entrust Johnny with my life, and the notary would lose his job, and even more, if he broke his promise of secrecy. Helena is on the run, so there is only a slight chance that she will learn where you have gone. And it’s me she does want. There will be less risk of something harmful happening to you over there than there would be staying by my side.”

  I had finished washing his body. He leaned back and plunged his head under the water so I could shampoo his hair. All the best arguments in the world to stay here swirled around in my head. When I finished, he levered himself out of the tub, and I wiped him dry, trying to permeate every movement with all the tender caresses that I wouldn’t be able to give him anymore. But even that had to come to an end. I helped him into his bathrobe, saying, “I don’t mind dying, Master, if it’s at your side or for you.”

  “I know, Max. That’s why you have to go. I don’t want another slave to act as an armor of flesh and blood. Now come and dance for me, Max. One last time.”

  As he sat in one of the armchairs in his bedroom. I took my place in front of him and danced, not left to right as usual, but back and forth. Whenever I came near, I kissed him then turned, shaking my buttocks almost under his nose to tease him, while looking back at him over my shoulder. He laughed at my provocation. I even invented new steps, trying to prove him all the happiness I had had living with him, steps that spoke to him of yearning love and the end of this world.

  When I stopped, he held out one hand, level with the arms of his chair. “Place your cock in my hand,” he commanded me.

  I approached and, smiling at him, I rested my cock on the palm of his hand.


  He gently stroked it. Then he placed the back of his other hand on the floor and ordered me to put my cock in it. I had to lie flat on my stomach to be able to obey him. His fingers closed on my balls and tightened. It hurt, but I didn’t move. I kissed his arm as it stretched out toward the ground, slathering the skin with tender kisses while his hand continued to grind my balls.

  Next he rested an elbow on the arm of his chair, so his open hand was now at shoulder height.

  I knew what I had to do. I climbed onto the arm of his chair and placed my cock in his offered palm.

  He didn’t move, letting my cock rest against his hand for a long moment while my cock responded eagerly to this new game and the warm touch of his fingers.

  Now the other hand was placed at knee height, so I had to crouch to offer my cock.

  I jumped as soon as I did. While I had been dancing, he must have taken his keys from the nightstand beside him and they were now clutched in the palm of the hand where I had placed my dick. The cold and unfamiliar contact with his keys and the roughness of their teeth surprised me. Slowly, he worked the keychain against my shaft, closing his fingers a little more to imprison my cock and his keys in one tight embrace. Then he pressed all the keys against my balls, opening his hand from time to time to move his key ring a little, then closing it again, making his keys’ teeth bite into my tender and throbbing eggs.

  While the pain there grew stronger, he caressed me with his other hand. His gestures were soft and his touch gentle. He went from one tender nipple to the other, or slided a few fingers along the crack of my ass, and then pressed them into my anus.

  It was maddening. I didn’t know what dominated my mind the most, the pain in my balls, the pleasure of his caresses or my intense desire to please him, my only master.