Territory Slaves

Chapter Four - Training

Lehu found Jahhan asleep under the table. Sedation only ceased when he entered, giving him time to prepare the room before the drug wore off. Two slaves entered behind him, carrying a bench. He directed them to place it a couple of feet from the table. Another slave set the equipment he required on the bench.

Lehu handed one of the slaves his wrap, tunic and gloves. He put in an ear piece. If she desired, Mijre could communicate with him through the device. They hadn’t allowed Jahhan to see them put the receiver in place yet. He still didn’t know he had an audience. Lehu signaled for medical to start the stimulant drip. Only sedatives providing extra rest, replacement fluids and nutrients, and stimulants were keeping Jahhan on his feet after one session and two days of punishment. The drugs allowed the slave’s suffering to be prolonged.

He crouched in front of the slave and waited for him to stir. Jahhan opened his eyes, saw Lehu, and looked down quickly. One lesson learned, at least. “Look at me.” Jahhan hesitated. He wasn’t sure when rules could be overridden by orders. Lehu would help with the confusion today. Somewhat. Mijre preferred her pets to learn many lessons the hard way. “Look at me.” Lehu beckoned him out from under the table.

“You may be free with your eyes for the duration of the session. You do not have permission to speak. Today, you begin your training to be a slave.” Lehu took a strap with a wooden handle from the bench.

“I gave you an order which you did not immediately follow. All instances of disobedience, willfulness, or hesitation will be punished.” He struck Jahhan across the chest with the strap. Jahhan gasped in pain, but didn’t move.

“I’ll clarify previous instructions for your benefit. Speech restriction applies even when you’re alone. Restrictions are relaxed on making sounds of pain or fear in session and punishments, unless you’re told otherwise. Obey your superiors. You are an unranked slave, so with the exception of a handful of people you will never meet, everyone in Baceti is your superior. If you’re given conflicting orders, first obey Mijre, your owner, then Kinnet, then Sesul, then me, then Mijre’s other slaves, as they are extensions of her. Mijre’s slaves wear black with the red and sliver trimmed tunics you’ve seen.”

Lehu waited for Jahhan to piece together the information. He wore black. Jahhan had seen Sesul in black with the trimmed tunic. Sesul, at least, would have become a powerful figure to him. To have him labeled as a slave would be bewildering to Jahhan. In truth, both brothers were powerful. Lowly ranked in society, but powerful.

“You can’t avoid punishment. Don’t try. Just obey. Let us sort out punishments. Now I’ll train you in proper obeisance.”

He led Jahhan through the common gestures of servitude. Correcting him as he took the positions. Lehu didn’t use the strap for a simple correction, unlike some trainers. Jahhan only needed to know a few positions to indicate respect to superiors. While the positions were simple, however, the nuances of when and where he’d be expected to perform certain gestures were complex. He would suffer several punishments before he understood them.

Kneeling and touching his head to the floor in obeisance, though, was a gesture reserved for an select few. “You’re only required to perform obeisance for Mijre, Kinnet, Sesul, and myself.”

Jahhan’s brows furrowed as he looked at Lehu intently. Lehu strolled around behind him and brought the strap across his impressively bruised backside sharply. Jahhan grunted. Lehu walked in front of him, and saw the confused expression on his face. “Don’t try to tell me with your eyes to permit you to speak. I’ll tell you when you have something I want to hear.”

He waited for Jahhan to clear his face of expression. “I know you’ve never seen Mijre or Kinnet. Believe me, you won’t miss who they are when you are in their presence.” Jahhan’s gaze flicked up again, surprised. Yes, Lehu did know the minds of people he trained. He’d been training long enough.

“Concerning speech. During your session—I don’t know if you remember—you had permission to speak, but you referred to my brother by name. Even with permission to speak and other restrictions removed, you must still address your superiors appropriately. Sesul considered another day of punishment for you, but I assured him I’d address the issue.” He struck the back of Jahhan’s thighs a dozen times with the strap, leaving the slave struggling to remain still.

Lehu continued. “Address Mijre as mistress, refer to her as your owner when speaking of her. For now, address your other superiors as sir. You may refer to us by name when speaking of us. Soon someone will be appointed your mistress or master, under Mijre of course. You will always address and refer to this person as mistress or master. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jahhan said, hesitantly. Lehu hit his thighs again.

“You weren’t given permission to speak.” The affronted glance over his shoulder at Lehu earned him a long strapping. Lehu struck the slave until he cried out from the blows.

“Take your punishments with proper humility.”

On the note of humility, Lehu began sexual position training. Jahhan hesitated before assuming the sexual position Lehu instructed, earning another two blows with the strap. Finally, blushing, he moved where he was told. The positions often left him utterly exposed. If Sesul hadn’t made his future in Baceti abundantly clear already, Jahhan should have no more doubt.

Lehu had him maintain a humiliating position as further punishment for his earlier long hesitation. “The person you are servicing will tell you which position to assume. You only need to know the best angle for them to penetrate.”

The word caused a pronounced flinch. Lehu considered for a moment, then used the strap on the exposed backside. “You must accept your role without complaint, verbal or nonverbal. A complaint is an expression of will. You have no will. Sounds of pain, on the other hand, are acknowledgments of the pain your superior wishes you to feel, in case you wondered.”

“Stand.” The slave stood. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees unlocked, arms down at his sides, palms towards his sides, back straight, head straight up, and eyes downcast, as taught. Good. “We’ll review the positions again. You will have sexual performance training, but not today.”

***
Kinnet waited demurely until one of the guests noticed her and vacated a lounge. She bowed to him respectfully before settling herself. The viewing room attendants had a smaller seat for the man brought in shortly. Kinnet noted his face, as he probably hoped she would when he gave up the lounge. She held power in Baceti, and people intelligent enough to want on her good side, instead of enjoying feeling superior due to her social status, were worth remembering.

She should have remembered to arrive early for training day, though. For once, she was in agreement with the guests. She had a bit of the sickness too, she had to admit. She enjoyed watching a good trainer.

Some guests might be looking for technique. Some just liked the training too. The viewing always did get full on a new pet’s first true day of training. And with Lehu, no less. She often had the pleasure of watching him train Mijre’s personal guards and some of the specialized military units. She also had the displeasure of being trained by him in those same categories. He drilled her in techniques past even her endurance.

But slave training was different than military personnel training. There was an intimacy to slave training. Kinnet didn’t enjoy watching the slave being punished, but she liked watching the interaction between trainer and slave. The trainer could get into the slave’s mind, get to know the man, and draw on the traits best suited to Mijre’s desires. The torturer broke them into pieces, and the trainer fit the desirable pieces together. Sometimes torturer and trainer were the same person, but the techniques didn’t change.

Lehu held a strap in his hand. Jahhan watched the strap instead of Lehu, meaning he’d done something which could be punishable while she’d been getting settled. Sure enough, Lehu struck out, catching Jahhan across the front of his thighs.

Fingers lightly trailed up her hip. She didn’t even flinch. Mijre reclined in front of her, Lehu trained in the session room, and no other would dare such intimacy with her. Sesul’s warm body settled behind her.

“Where are they?” He asked.

“Obedience. Ah, I hate this part.” Lehu was picking up a brand.

***
Lehu hit a button and the tip of the instrument turned red. “Put your hand out.” Lehu brought the device close to Jahhan’s palm, but didn’t touch him. Enough heat radiated from it to burn without touching. Lehu pressed the handle end of the brand into his hand. “Kneel with your legs spread.” He knelt with trepidation. “Brand your inner thigh.”

Jahhan just stared at him. Lehu brought the strap down across his shoulders. Jahhan stared at the brand. The strap struck his shoulders again. He moved the brand closer to his thigh, but just couldn’t bring himself to touch it. Lehu took the brand from him, turned it off, and set the brand and strap on the table.

“Clear the bench.” Lehu ordered. Jahhan set the implements and restraints sitting on the bench on the table. As he did, he noticed the eye bolts on the legs of the bench. Oh. Shit. “Lie on your back.”

He complied and Lehu began securing him to the bench. He attached Jahhan’s ankles to eye bolts on the bottom of the legs so his feet were flat on the floor on either side of the end of the bench. He cuffed Jahhan’s thighs to eye bolts at the tops of the legs. Straps went around his forehead, his hips, his waist and under his armpits. Finally, Lehu attached his wrists behind his back under the bench.

Lehu took the brand off the table. Jahhan shuddered. He’d hoped he would only receive a strapping. Lehu knelt on one knee next to him. He clicked the brand on and Jahhan watched the tip grow red. “Do I even need to say anything?” Lehu asked. He shook his head. “Good.” Lehu cupped his genitals and lifted them towards his stomach. He moaned a terrified, wordless plea for mercy.

Lehu brought the brand down.

Jahhan closed his eyes and tensed. He felt a flash of cold on the underside of his testicles, followed by hot, shattering pain. After a moment of being unable to even find his voice through the pain, he screamed. His body tried to arch off the bench, but couldn’t move. The heat flashed over his skin, but his head felt cool, even light.

He didn’t know he was close to losing awareness until he regained it. First, of course, came the pain, though he wasn’t sure he ever lost the pain, even in unconsciousness. Then he opened his eyes to find Lehu waiting for him to come around. Movement to his side caught his attention. He started in the restraints and glanced towards the movement, but found only a slave wiping a spill off the floor. No, not a spill. He’d lost control of himself.

He was determined not to feel ashamed. Circumstances were extreme. A flush crept over his body, nonetheless, when he looked back at Lehu. Lehu simply offered him a drink from a straw in a glass of water.

When the slave had cleaned the floor, bench and him, Lehu released him from the bench with a warning not to touch the brand and allowed him to sit for a few moments. His balls throbbed and pain spiked through the underside. He was still breathing hard from the ordeal and a sheen of sweat covered him.

Lehu allowed him a small recovery time before ordering him to kneel on the floor with his knees spread. He should have known. Lehu placed the brand in his hand. “Brand your thigh.” Or else, Jahhan thought.

He put the brand against his thigh. Lehu snatched the brand out of his hand after a moment, keeping Jahhan from further injury as his body jerked in anguish and he teetered towards unconsciousness. He set his forehead against the cool floor. Lehu gave him a few moments to collect himself before ordering him to stand.

Lehu selected a small jar from the equipment on the table. He kept the brand in his hand, leaving the strap on the table.

“You’ll find this easier to do if you lean on the table and spread your legs, or set one foot up on the bench.” Lehu said as he handed him a small jar. He put a foot on the bench and waited, confused. “It’ll ease entry. We’ve been applying it to ourselves, but most patrons will expect you to be ready for them. Put some on your finger and put it inside yourself.”

Not again. He froze. A mere hint of movement from Lehu stirred him, but it was too late. Lehu took the jar from him, and beckoned him away from the bench. Lehu strolled behind him. He steeled himself as best as he could. The pain flared on the back of his leg. He staggered and started sinking to his knees, but Lehu caught his hair and pulled him up. “If I wanted you on your knees, I’d tell you. Raise your right arm.”

Jahhan raised his arm, though his body shook. Lehu applied the brand to his side. His mouth opened, but the sound caught inside his throat. His body wanted to writhe and he fought to remain still, until his body locked into a spasm of contrary demands. He stayed conscious. He stayed on his feet. He even still had his arm out. “Put your arm down.”

“Now . . .” Jahhan immediately reached for the jar, leaned against the table with his legs spread, and waited for Lehu’s nod.

He gasped as his finger slid inside his sore anus. He applied the slippery substance as well as he could and managed not to flinch when Lehu came up behind him. Lehu put a hand on his hip and slid a finger into him. He rotated the finger, and thrust gently in and out. Jahhan’s breathing grew harsher with pain and distaste. Lehu squeezed his hip. “Pay attention. If you have the opportunity, you can save yourself pain. Use plenty of lubricant. Open yourself with one finger, then two like this.” He added another finger, causing Jahhan to moan softly in pain.

“Relax. You don’t have any other choice.” He tried. Lehu pushed down gently with his fingers before thrusting with them again. The pain finally began to ease.

Lehu released him and pulled a cloth from his pants. He wiped his fingers and handed the cloth to Jahhan. “Clean up.” When he finished, Lehu spoke a foreign word and motioned to a bin that had appeared near the door. While he disposed of the cloth, Lehu sat on the bench and opened his pants.

“Kneel.” He indicated the ground directly in front of him. Jahhan knelt. He knew what was coming, but didn’t feel any dread. Not of this, at least. “You know how this is done?” Jahhan nodded. “Then pleasure me.”

Jahhan took Lehu into his mouth and tried to remember what he enjoyed when on the receiving end. Lehu’s hand rested on the back of his head, not guiding or pushing. Jahhan gently kneaded the balls, tried to remember to use his tongue and keep his teeth out of the way, pulled back and swirled his tongue around the tip as he’d always liked, tried to take as much in as he could, and put his other hand around the base to give stimulation all along the length.

Lehu’s silence unnerved him. His breath grew somewhat faster, but he didn’t moan or show much excitement. Lehu’s grip tightened in his hair. He took control of the pace and forced Jahhan a little deeper. He gagged, but didn’t feel in danger of losing his last meal. Lehu gasped, “Swallow.” He pulled Jahhan back until just the head was in his mouth, then he came.

Jahhan swallowed, licked the head clean, and sat back on his heels between Lehu’s legs, waiting tensely for punishment or orders.

Lehu redid his pants. “Training is over for today. You have permission to speak to ask whatever questions you have. I will strap you for each question, which I may or may not answer. But if I answer, I will answer truthfully.”

Jahhan considered the information he had. He was a slave in Baceti, whatever Baceti was. Didn’t matter. He was here to suffer and be used. He doubted they’d ever release him. No answers on the subject of his slavery were likely to help him. But he did have several questions, all related to the same topic. He considered the best ones to get the information he wanted.

“Where is my family, sir?” He asked finally.

“On Safar.” Lehu said without hesitation.

“Were they harmed, sir?” He didn’t look at Lehu, so Lehu couldn’t see Jahhan trying to will an answer out of him in his eyes.

“No.”

“Is Safar under occupation, sir?” He looked up at the question. The answer was important, but not so desperately important as the first two. Lehu’s eyes actually seemed sympathetic as he, again, answered without hesitation.

“No.” Unharmed and potentially safe. Jahhan truly felt no shame for the tears he shed at the news.

“Any more questions?” Lehu asked when he didn’t speak again. He shook his head. “Bend over the bench and place your hands on it.”

The strap hit the same abused spot at the top of his thighs three times. How could a place that had been struck so many times still have nerve endings left? No matter. He gladly would have suffered so much worse to have those answers.

Slaves entered the room carrying a chair while Jahhan was still bent over the bench, looking forward to resting at last, even looking forward to the bland meal. The sturdy chair sported restraints and dangling wires with circular pads at the ends. Slaves nudged him off the bench, and carried it away, along with the implements and table. Jahhan eyed the chair warily.

“Sit down.” Lehu attached the pads on his thigh in two inch intervals. “Attach the rest in the same manner.” Lehu made a couple of adjustments when Jahhan had finished, then secured the restraints and tucked a cylinder into Jahhan’s curled hand. The cylinder had a band that went across the top of his hand to ensure he wouldn’t drop it, and a button positioned next to his thumb.

“Press the button.” The moment his thumb hit the button, pain tore through his body as if every nerve had fired at once. He screamed and twisted against the restraints.

He couldn’t help casting an accusatory glance at Lehu when the pain finally stopped. He had said they were finished for today. Fear of even greater punishment for his bold look filled him, but Lehu simply shrugged. “Training is over for today, but you still have more punishment coming to you. You have had, after your scheduled session, two days of punishment for speaking without permission and making eye-contact with a superior. Your training today was for your benefit. Tonight’s punishment is for disobeying an order. You’ll be healed and rested before your final punishment for physically defying a superior.” Jahhan shuddered at the prospect of the upcoming torment, but he was grateful for the straightforward answer.

“Push the button when you hear the bell.” Lehu instructed, then left. The lights went dark. Jahhan waited. A bell sounded, clear and loud in the dark. He pressed the button, not daring to hesitate, and suffered. As he slumped in the chair when the pain stopped, he wondered how many times the bell would sound in the night.

Yesterday had taught him that he had nothing to offer but a hole for use. The lessons with Lehu had been reinvigorating, in a strange way. Lehu looked him in the eyes and engaged him as a person. A lesser person, but still a person.

The bell sounded and he writhed in the chair.

He would die here. Probably in this room, but he’d obey and try to survive, because as long as he lived, he could hope to see his family again.

***
Lehu touched a panel in a corridor outside of the torture room. “Seeking, with permission, location of Sesul. Seeking, with permission, location of Kinnet.” He waited. If they were near a communication panel, which was probable in the station, they would be asked for permission to reveal their locations.

After a brief pause, the computer chimed lightly. “Sesul, located in Viewing Room 4, level 56. Kinnet, located in Viewing Room 4, level 56.”

Now he didn’t want to see them. He hated when they watched him train a slave. He never watched Sesul torture slaves unless he was forced to participate. For some reason, though, Kinnet liked to watch training. They would expect him to join them, though, since he’d located them.

He made his way to the viewing room, hoping Mijre hadn’t remained. He found them curled together on a lounge. Sometimes he envied them. He loved them both, but he didn’t desire them in the same way they enjoyed each other. He often felt asexual. Forcing another slave didn’t excite him, free women wanted him for every wrong reason, and the two people he loved were either family, or close enough. Like a good slave, he only had sex when ordered.

He settled at their feet.

“He’ll be easy to control.” Kinnet said, nodding at the slave. The screen had switched to night mode. Jahhan sat in darkness, but they could see his suffering clearly.

Lehu agreed with her. “He has the same thing on his mind we do.” Mijre often used loved ones to ensure control over slaves. Jahhan would learn. Soon.

“First Kinnet. Now you’re empathizing with him. He’ll make the club yet,” Sesul said. Kinnet gave Sesul a sharp look. “Yes. I know. I remember. And you’re right.” Lehu knew he’d missed something, but he decided he didn’t want to know what.

Kinnet leaned towards him. “Lehu, did you enjoy his mouth?”

Lehu recoiled from her. “How could I?”

“What did you imagine, then, to help you finish?”

A memory several years old, of a patron who happened to be pleasant company even if he was ordered to her bed. He glared at Kinnet, saying nothing of his thoughts.

Conversations with Kinnet occasionally took these disturbing turns. Just like Mijre. This particular direction of her thoughts grated on him. She must have seen the longing he felt when he saw her and Sesul relaxing together so comfortably, but some things couldn’t be helped.

“None of your concern, Kinnet,” he warned her.

“I am concerned. Without finding pleasure in true intimacy elsewhere, what you do in there will eat at you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Handle it.” Her eyes held a warning.

Whether he agreed or not, he generally obeyed Kinnet’s orders, but he wasn’t sure he could resolve the problem. Mijre had dictated his personal life since he was 15. He never had the opportunity to learn how to seek out intimacy from others. Surely she had no set time limit for her demand. Maybe she’d get distracted after awhile. He nodded slightly. “If we could stop discussing my sexual habits, I need to make security arrangements for your mission to Sundeht.”

Kinnet allowed the change of topic, but her expression was worryingly speculative.

***
By morning, waiting for the bell had become Jahhan's existence. He didn’t consider not pressing the button, regardless of the increasing severity of his reaction. The pain had taken a toll. His muscles convulsed as nerves continued to fire randomly, even when he hadn’t pressed the button. He shook constantly, especially when he sweated with a surge of pain, then froze as the sweat dried in the cold room. The shaking had caused him to press the button without hearing the bell. The straps holding him to the chair weren’t as harsh as some of the restraints he’d struggled against, but they still rubbed his skin raw from his thrashing. He’d lost control of himself again during the night.

Movement on his right caused him to jerk in alarm, triggering the button of course. The movement turned out to be a slave. She waited until the agony passed, then pried the button out of his hand. The bell rang just as the button left his reach. He grasped for it and moaned. She spoke in Bese and patted his hand, then removed the pads and restraints.

She switched armbands between the torture room and a stretcher. Two male slaves lifted him from the chair to the stretcher. He still didn’t see any means of support on the stretcher, but he was as foggy as he had been the first time he’d seen one. They maneuvered him across the hall into the medical facility. He remembered Lehu saying he’d be healed before his last punishment, so it wasn’t over yet.

He was washed, with sponges this time, and patched with strange substances which adhered to his skin. Their hands were impersonal, which seemed gentle after the many rough hands on him.

It wouldn’t have been bad, except they too determined they had to shove something in his ass. When the nozzle was removed, he felt full of something. Not like the hardness of a man, but as if he needed to use the toilet. Just another indignity he tried to tell himself.

They let him rest before hustling him to his feet and out the door, as clinically as any medical staff he’d ever seen. A slave guided him back to his cell.

Never would he have guessed he’d feel so relieved to be alone in a cold and dark cell. Just as Lehu said, he had a long rest, though he woke screaming from nightmares when he could sleep. When he couldn’t sleep, he huddled in the cell, filled with boredom and terror. At least he wasn’t being hurt. Faster than he would have thought possible, even with the medicine at his tormentors’ disposal, his body healed. The various patches they applied to him fell away. The exposed skin felt smooth and he had no lingering pain.

The healing didn’t comfort him. They could do what they wanted to him, then heal him and do it all again. And again. Without marring his body enough to make them lose interest.

***
The lights snapped on and Jahhan stood facing the door before it opened. The moment he recognized Sesul, he knelt and put his forehead to the ground.

“Come.” Sesul ordered.

Jahhan followed him, knowing they had made him an accomplice in his own torture. He struggled to make his feet carry him towards his fate, desperate not to gain more punishment.

When they reached the torture room, he saw nothing but two chairs. Regular chairs without restraints or wires.

“Have a seat,” Sesul said casually. “You have permission to speak freely and be free with your eyes.” The clear armband dropped in front of them, dangling on its tube. Sesul held it out to Jahhan, who took it and fitted it in place on his arm.

“We’re going to chat,” Sesul continued, smooth and disarming. Jahhan stared at Sesul’s knees. Sesul reached out and tilted his chin up gently. “That was an order.”

Jahhan blinked. What was an order? He thought in a panic. He realized, finally. “Chat.” Sesul raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sir.” Jahhan struggled for more. “What . . . what about? Sir.”

“What would you like to talk about?” His blue eyes glinted with cruel humor. “Oh, yes. I hear you’re worried about your family.”

The breath left Jahhan in a rush. He didn’t want Sesul thinking about his family. Ever. “Lehu said they are fine, sir,” he choked out.

“They are. Really, if you ever get the chance, you should thank your NDSF. I never even saw your family. I didn’t mind not having to deal with them.”

Able to breathe again, he filled in the gaps in his knowledge. Then he did want to thank NDSF for preventing any incidents. He could just see his personal security fighting Sesul and whatever weapons he had. Bullets and . . . whatever flying around his wife and children. Instead, they weren’t there. Except. “Couldn’t they have hidden us, sir?”

“Kinnet explained to them we already had our targets monitored.” Sesul placed an ankle on his knee, as if they really were having a friendly chat.

Jahhan wouldn’t waste the opportunity, even if the pretense was thin. He thought about Sesul’s word choice. Target. He’d been a target. “Why me, sir?”

“Mijre, of course. She saw your broadcasts. We’ve been monitoring Safar for many years. She took a liking to you.”

“Mi . . .” No. Wait. “My owner shows her liking in interesting ways, sir.”

Sesul smiled coldly. “Everyone has a hobby. Watching the trials of others is a popular past-time in the Territories.” He gestured toward the long, curved wall. “You have provided much entertainment since your arrival. Entertainment. Wasn’t that your occupation?”

Jahhan looked at the wall. He suddenly thought of the arrangement of some theaters, with a curved stage and the audience seated in a semi-circle. Hard to block a performance on them due to the audience being on three sides. The thought froze in his mind. He stared at the wall with growing horror. “No.”

“No, what?” The casual tone grew a hard edge.

He caught hold of his thoughts. His calm wanted to shatter, but he knew the nightmares promised by that voice. “I mean, yes, sir. My occupation. Entertaining. Sir.” His gaze slid back to the wall. “No, sir. Please no, sir,” he whispered.

Sesul took his hands and drew him to his feet. He turned Jahhan to the curved wall and moved behind him, holding him around the waist like a lover. “You’re still an entertainer, slave.”

Jahhan expected the wall to vanish, dramatically revealing the hidden audience. Nothing happened. “There are people watching through that, sir?”

“Yes. You won’t ever be able to see them or hear them, but they can see and hear everything, even the smallest whimper,” he said into Jahhan’s ear. Jahhan slumped in Sesul’s arms and put his hands over his face. Everything that had happened to him in this room. His rape. Entertainment. “Are you ready for your punishment, slave?”

Jahhan choked down an urge to retch.

“I asked you a question.”

He dropped his arms. He had no escape, no place to hide. “Yes, sir. I’m ready, sir.”

Sesul dropped him back into chair. “Not quite yet. You’ve had a shock. Take a moment,” he said lightly. Jahhan stared at him.

A slave entered and handed Sesul something as small as a button. Sesul slipped it into his ear. “To hear our owner,” he explained “She occasionally has special requests.” He stripped out of all his clothing except his pants. The slave left with the rest of his clothes.

“You’re being punished for struggling against me in your cell, without permission. Today you’ll learn fighting is useless. In case you’re not following, you’re going to fight me.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His eyes and voice had become serious, without the usual mockery. “You’re to fight as if for your life. If I don’t believe you’re fighting with everything you have, I’ll draw your punishment out for days.”

Jahhan started to stand.

Sesul stopped him. “Not yet. We want you to be ready. We don’t expect you to fight well when you’ve been surprised and terrified.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I can calm down.” Would he be punished for not controlling such a deeply ingrained emotion?

“You will be ready in about 5 minutes.” He reached out and tapped the armband. Jahhan stared at the armband, concerned by what was being pumped into his blood. Sesul laughed. “Don’t worry. That’s the point. The drug will take off the edge of your fear. You’ll only have a cooler head during the fight.”

“What else do you give me, sir?” He felt relaxed enough to keep asking questions, but he didn’t know if his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Nothing to concern yourself about. Just what we need to keep you on your feet during session.” Sesul settled back into the chair.

Jahhan thought he may never have a chance like this again, sitting in front of the torturer without violence between them for another three or four minutes, and permission to speak. “Can I use the toilet first, sir?” He blinked. His body seemed to be speaking for him. At least he startled an honest smile out of Sesul, a very small one.

“Of course.”

He’d sat down after using the toilet before he remembered he had an audience. Sesul had said, “Take the edge off”? He seemed to be losing all his fear.

Sesul stood. Jahhan followed suit, realizing the drug definitely hadn’t taken all his fear. Sesul stood several inches taller. His skin was taut over perfectly defined muscles. When Jahhan had struggled against Sesul before, the man’s strength had seemed unnatural. This was punishment, not a wrestling match. He knew Sesul meant to hurt him.

Confirming his thoughts, Sesul said, “I’m not stopping when you’re defeated. I’m stopping when I feel you’ve learned the lesson, and then some, for the audience. Do you understand?”

He shuddered. “Yes, sir.”

Slaves took away the chairs. Fear poured through Jahhan like ice water running in his veins, followed by clarity. He evened his breathing, and settled into a fighter’s stance. At least he’d portrayed fighters in two plays and three viewer programs. He’d learned some basics.

Sesul didn’t raise his hands or lower his center of gravity. He simply circled like a predator. Jahhan moved with him, careful of his footing. Sesul struck out, fast and sure. Jahhan stumbled back, dodging the blow, and nearly losing his balance. Sesul didn’t press the advantage. He was drawing the fight out, otherwise it would be over now, Jahhan realized.

God, and that was the first move. He had to get fully into the game. He kept a larger distance between them. If he got within arm’s reach, Sesul had him. Maybe he could dart in, fake a couple of moves, then try to really land a blow.

Sesul almost fell for the first fake, maybe. When Jahhan made his real move, Sesul deflected his punch and hit him in the kidney area before backing off again. Jahhan gasped in pain and stumbled away.

New strategy. What?! Fight dirty. He was fighting as if he knew how. A bit of training for a performance wasn’t real training. He didn’t have height, weight, strength, or skill on his opponent. What did he have? Pain. So much pain. He’d been beaten and caged over and over, like an animal. Raped. For amusement.

Jahhan’s rational mind ended transmission.

He grabbed for Sesul with his hands like claws, screaming in pain or rage or fear. Sesul deflected the hands easily, but Jahhan’s teeth found his arm. While Sesul was distracted by unclenching his jaws, Jahhan grabbed for the part which caused him pain and shame. He managed to get a hold of Sesul’s testicles. Just as Sesul forced Jahhan’s teeth off his bleeding arm, Jahhan made a determined effort to twist Sesul’s balls off. Sesul punched him once in the stomach and twice in the jaw before Jahhan’s fingers lost their grip.

Sesul backed off, but Jahhan, though wavering on his feet, kept coming. Lost in a haze of pain-filled rage he would have thought only existed in fiction while sane, he tackled Sesul around the legs in a sprawl of limbs. He still wanted to remove the offending body parts.

His tackle knocked Sesul back a step. Sesul averted Jahhan’s teeth inches from their target, drawing an angry yell out of Jahhan. A fist slammed into Jahhan’s cheek and his head rocked sideways violently. He collapsed on the ground, the world turning gray around him.

***
Satisfied Jahhan was out for the moment, Sesul assessed his opponent. He’d made Sesul work and he’d drawn blood. A large part of the problem was Sesul hadn’t considered him any kind of opponent. He meant to toy with him awhile, then beat him to a bloody pulp.

But Jahhan had an impressive force of will and the strength of a survivor. Someday he might make an good fighter, if he survived Mijre’s amusements. For now, the game was over. Jahhan had proven he fought in earnest, drawing on strength he probably didn’t know he had. Therefore he had earned no further punishment. Now Sesul had to get down to business and finish this punishment.

Buoyed by drugs, Jahhan stirred and dragged himself to his feet. Sesul closed in on him, wary of unpredictable attacks, but he met little resistance. The slave seemed to be unable to focus his eyes properly.

The fight was never meant to be fair, so Sesul struck him repeatedly. He placed the blows to cause pain, but little damage. He needed to hurt his opponent without ending the fight entirely. When he’d caused enough superficial damage to satisfy Mijre, he threw Jahhan against the wall. Something cracked. Jahhan screamed and collapsed against the wall.

Sesul advanced on him. Whatever depths of strength had fueled him before were drained. Jahhan watched him approach with terror. He resisted weakly as Sesul hauled him to his feet. One of Jahhan’s arms shifted in his grip unnaturally, wrenching a cry out of Jahhan. Sesul grabbed the other arm and twisted with carefully controlled force until he heard the snap of bone echoed by screams.

He gently lowered Jahhan to the ground and straddled him. With the same deliberateness he had broken the arm, he repeatedly struck Jahhan’s face and torso, until he was a mess of blood and blossoming bruises. Sesul felt ribs give way under his fists.

He moved down until he straddled the slave’s legs, and cupped his genitals. Jahhan moaned, eyes wide. Sesul teased him with a light squeeze, then released them. He allowed one bit of admiration to interfere with his role as torturer.

He rolled Jahhan over. Jahhan begged not to be raped between shouts of pain as he rolled over his broken arm onto broken ribs. Sesul put a knee on his buttocks, and bent one of his legs back at the knee. He placed his hands in the proper positions and twisted. Another sickening crack of bone with the accompanying scream from his victim.

Sesul rolled Jahhan over again, placed a hand around his throat, and tightened. “Your owner has chosen the master who will bend you to his will, and to her will. From here on, you will refer to me as master.”

Jahhan’s watering eyes focused on him with difficultly, and he mouthed. “Yes, master.”

Sesul released him to medical.

***
Jahhan stayed aware during the painful transfer to the stretcher and the endless trip to a different, more elaborate, medical facility. He lay, paralyzed by drugs, as they set his arm. When he felt the bones of his clavicle grind together, he finally lost consciousness.

Fluid moved in and out of his lungs when he woke. He found himself restrained, but able to move slightly. He didn’t test how much pressure his recently broken bones could take. At least the pain had decreased. He comforted himself with the thought of being without pain soon, for however long they allowed him to stay in one piece.

He slept fitfully, and struggled with the same mind-numbing fear and boredom he experienced whenever he was left alone. He wished the blurry black figure would return and put him out for the duration, if that had been real.

Finally, the fluid drained, and a slave helped him from the tank and guided him to the shower. He endured the freezing water and the warm air blasts—not quite warm enough to replace his lost body heat—then he was released.

Right into Sesul’s custody.

“Come along,” Sesul ordered after Jahhan had greeted him with proper obeisance. Jahhan rose and followed a pace behind as he had been taught. “You realize, if you had obeyed the commands I gave you when you arrived, you would have had just the single session we planned for you. Mijre has limited time for her sessions. You need only endure one every three weeks or so, if you’re good. Of course, I expect you’ll screw up and receive more punishment, but you don’t have to spend every day in our care in a session room. Unless you enjoy our attention.”

No, he didn’t enjoy their attention. He forced himself to keep his breathing even and eyes lowered.

“Of course, my brother and I have limited time as well. We’ve spoiled you, but in the future you’ll enjoy the attentions of others during many of your sessions and punishments. Don’t worry. I’m your master and I won’t neglect you. I’ll make sure you receive enough of my time to complete your training properly.” Sesul turned and squeezed Jahhan’s shoulder with the same mocking lightness of his voice. He shivered.

When they reached the cell, Sesul followed him inside instead of leaving him. He felt trapped like a small animal in the corner of a cage. He wanted bolt, but didn’t dare move. Sesul ordered him to kneel. Jahhan felt a surge of relief. If that was all he wanted. But Sesul knelt on one knee in front of him.

“Sessions, training, and punishment will be only part of your life here. You’ll have other duties. You will fulfill those duties on command, or you’ll face me in the session room. But like I said, I only have a certain amount of time to indulge you.

“As a kindness, I’m telling you to remember your lessons very well in the next couple of minutes.”

Jahhan didn’t want to hear what was coming. After the way his lessons had been drilled into him, if Sesul thought he’d forget when he heard what was coming, he didn’t want to hear it. But Sesul continued.

“If you forget yourself too often, if you become too much of a hassle for your owner, you will be executed. If you die by execution due to disobedience or you escape your slavery through suicide, then the Council laws give Mijre the legal right to replace her property loss with five of your closest family members, including, of course, your wife and daughters.” Jahhan gasped as his heart seized with pain greater than the whip. “Whenever you wonder if disobedience would be worth the pain of punishment, consider your loved ones in our care.”

Jahhan ground his teeth to keep from yelling at the monster. He clenched his hands to keep from attacking, as useless as that would be. He bowed his head to keep the rage on his face hidden. Only his harsh, panting breaths gave away his reaction to Sesul, he hoped.

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madlodger and Ryan_83, thank you for your reviews.
madlodger Funny you should mention Jahhan's role as entertainer since Sesul reveals just how much entertaining he's been doing in this chapter. Yeah, I don't think this is a form of entertainment Jahhan ever considered doing. (BTW, Rylam is 67. I haven't gotten into their aging inhibition technology yet, but he looks 30. He has sandy blond hair, skin just a bit darker, and pale blue eyes.)
I may be slower in updating since I'm now past the material I wrote earlier this year. But I know where I want to go with it and I have Chapter Five in progress, so keep checking back.

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