Territory Slaves

Chapter Eight - Tame Prey

Expecting to start his lessons, Jahhan practically ran into Lehu when his cell door opened. He stepped back quickly and dropped in obeisance, fearing Lehu’s anger.

“Follow me,” Lehu said. He didn’t sound angry. Jahhan hadn’t spent much time with Lehu, but he seemed more amiable than his brother, at least outside of session. He was lucky it hadn’t been Sesul.

Lehu’s arrival surprised him. He hadn’t even seen him since the training session. Surprise turned to worry as he followed. The lift didn’t stop at the level where he had his lessons or the session room level. Jahhan had learned changes in routine here usually resulted in a lot of pain. And after nearly half a year of seeing the same set of corridors, Jahhan felt uneasy in unfamiliar surroundings.

Finally, Lehu lead him through oddly familiar double doors. Even with the strict training he’d received, Jahhan stopped walking when he found himself surrounded by spaceships. He caught up quickly and kept his eyes downcast, though the temptation to look up was as strong as the first time he’d walked through the vast area.

“Go ahead. Look around,” Lehu said. Jahhan looked up and stopped again. Nothing. There was nothing overhead except stars. Endless stars. Lehu smiled. “Well, you might as well ask. You have permission to ask questions.”

“How, sir?”

“Manipulated gravity and generated atmosphere. We have a shield if we need it, but usually it’s open.” Jahhan suddenly had trouble breathing.

“That’s all, sir?” His voice sounded strangled to his own ears.

“That’s all. Come on.” They’d come to a complete stop. Lehu started walking again. He followed and looked down, for his own sanity. It was one thing to have thousands of feet of atmosphere over your head, completely another to have merely hundreds of feet of man-made air between you and nothing.

They reached a ship that looked exactly like the ship that had brought him to Railu Station. Lehu strapped him into an alcove just like before, but he remained conscious as the ship lifted off. The trip was fairly long and he had to fight his motion sickness several times before they finally landed. The straps released him and the alcove opened at the same time.

Lehu wasn’t in front of the alcove. Instead, Jahhan watched Lehu climb out of the pod. It was split at an angle across the center. Half of it was lowered as Lehu crawled out. Jahhan just caught the glimpse of a man shape formed into a smooth black surface before the pod closed.

“You have permission to be free with your eyes.” Jahhan knew from the hard tone in Lehu’s voice that a session had begun. “You have permission to speak freely. You have permission not to follow orders. Until you return to Railu Station.”

Outside the ship, Jahhan discovered they were on a planet. He might have taken pleasure in the sunlight on his skin or the smell of real air, but a group of men dressed in military gear were staring at him. Leering at him. Lehu went to speak with them and Jahhan counted. Twelve. Twelve men who all looked pleased, as if no one expected to be left out.

When Lehu finished talking to the men, he took Jahhan aside. He placed a clear band without a tube on Jahhan’s arm, and handed him shoes and a bottle of a creamy substance. “Put these on. Believe me, you don’t want to miss any spots with the cream.”

Jahhan slipped into the shoes, marveling at how quickly he’d gotten used to being barefoot. He doubted he’d ever get used to being naked, not when he was surrounded by clothed people. While he covered himself with the cream, Lehu pointed toward the horizon. “Run that way. You get a head start before the men start tracking you. Stay free until sunset and the session’s over. You’ll know the session is over when you see my ship. If you’re captured, the men get you until tomorrow evening.”

Jahhan looked at the men. Not a one expected him to escape. They had the relaxed confidence of experience, and they looked a decade younger than him, regardless of their real ages. He’d try anyway. At least make them work. He finished applying the cream and Lehu traded it with a canteen.

“Go,” Lehu said.

Jahhan ran.

He ran straight in the direction Lehu had pointed until the men were out of his sight. Then he turned sharply to the left and took an easier pace.

***
“Poor excuse for a training exercise,” Sesul said as they watched the trainee ground troops track the untrained, naked slave on the monitor. Sesul had joined him after the troop’s departure. He had his own part to play, much later. For now, they had some time away from the station to relax.

“Poor excuse, indeed,” Lehu replied, irritated at the use of future troops as an excuse for Mijre’s game.

The troops closed in on Jahhan on Lehu’s screen. Jahhan had nanotrackers in his blood. The troops weren’t slaves, but they carried external trackers so Lehu could watch the exercise, such as it was. Lehu saw the capture, as viewed from satellites. Mijre had a much better view from monitors connected to transmitters on the men.

They captured the prisoner with appropriate force, which meant very little force due to the pathetic state of the prisoner. They kept him well covered during the capture and they behaved as if he could be more dangerous than he appeared, bringing him down quickly and securing him well, but nothing more. In a real life scenario, the prisoner might have value and care would need to be taken not to harm him.

Two men escorted the prisoner. Two men guarded the prisoner. The rest of the men fanned out to protect the prisoner’s escorts. The leading men and trailing men wouldn’t even be able to see each other over the hilly terrain, but they kept to their training perfectly. At least his troops treated the exercise as proper training and they had their reward en route to the camp. Each man had been chosen for how well he would enjoy the reward. Jahhan certainly wouldn’t.

The men returned with their bloody and bruised captive. The men hadn’t bloodied him, of course. Jahhan had fallen many times during his flight. His vitals monitor showed dehydration among other concerns. Lehu scrawled a note on the screen to remind the men to give captives more water after capture.

Jahhan’s head hung listlessly, his dark hair a curtain in front of his face. He didn’t even look to see where the men were guiding him. They forced him to his knees in front of Lehu.

Lehu reviewed the exercise with the men while medical personnel took Jahhan to prep him to survive the reward. He had mostly praise and minor reminders for the men. He also reminded them of the penalties for doing what they were about to do while actually in the field.

Four of the men announced an intention to skip the reward out of respect for the slave’s fortitude. He invited those men to Sesul and his tent for a quality of liquor they didn’t often enjoy. Then he declared the exercise officially over and the beginning of their off-duty time.

Medical returned Jahhan to them. One of the men put a companionable arm around his shoulders and led him to a tent covered with transmitters.

***
They put Jahhan on his knees in the dirt while they stood or sat around him, and talked and laughed, perhaps recounting the day. He was exhausted. Too tired to try to interpret their rapid dialogue. They seemed as fresh as when he’d arrived. He’d tried every trick he’d seen on the viewer or read about in a book. He even imagined a couple. He hadn’t even heard or seen them. They took him down hard and fast, apparently out of nowhere. He wished they were on his side.

He wished someone was on his side.

Someone handed him a drink with a sour flavor. He drank without making a face. They drank from the same container, so it probably wasn’t an unkind gesture. When he finished, the man took the cup. A hand fell on his shoulder and turned him. He found himself facing an erection.

“Pleasure me.” The man said in Bese. He was still struggling to learn Bese, but they’d been certain to teach him that phrase early in his lessons.

They also taught him how, so he went to it. He began noticing the subtle signs of the men’s tiredness. They were unwinding. The time for a leisurely blow job, not the time for more rigorous pursuits. He pleasured each man, taking his time, drawing out every one. Maybe he could put off the worst until tomorrow.

Whether his plan worked, or they intended the same, the men filtered out of the tent. The last two pushed him face down onto a rudimentary metal frame bed with a thin mattress. They attached his wrists and ankles to the corners. They left, to his relief.

Since being brought to Baceti, Jahhan had learned to sleep regardless of pain, terror, or discomfort, and the mattress was more than he usually had, so at least he had an escape from contemplating tomorrow.

In what seemed like merely a moment, a squarely built man was shaking him awake. He freed Jahhan from the bed and sat on it, indicated he should kneel between his legs. Jahhan began his day with the man’s dick in his mouth. When he finished, the man led him to two tents. The occupants stirred, greeting his arrival with leering smiles. He pleasured the men in both tents, except four, who waved him off.

Finally he was returned to the original tent. He was set on his knees in the middle once more. A slave brought him a bowl of the mash and a container of water for breakfast.

Eventually the men returned and surrounded him. The light chatter and laughter of the previous evening were gone. The mood in the tent was different. They still smiled, but the smiles had turned cruel, predatory.

A pale man with red-tinged cheeks and cruel green eyes drew him to his feet and guided his hands to the back of his head. He ordered Jahhan to look forward, then removed his belt pointedly.

He beat Jahhan’s backside. When he tired, another drew his own belt and resumed the beating. Then another and another. Some on his back and some on his front. He gasped and moaned, and trembled with the effort to not move. The military men were thorough. His whole body was on fire from the pain. A tall, thickly muscled man bent him over. Jahhan felt ill at the sight of the large muscles and the particularly thick belt. The bastard delivered every blow to his ass and thighs. His moans became cries when blow after blow found the same spot.

After an eternity, the beating stopped. Bent over, his head hanging in exhaustion from struggling to stand still and with his hair around his face, Jahhan couldn’t see the men. One startled him by sliding a hand down his spine and into the cleft between his cheeks. He gasped and the man chuckled. Jahhan realized he’d revealed how deeply he hated being raped.

The man rubbed lubricant into his anus gently. He pushed Jahhan to his knees, forced his forehead to the floor, and urged his knees back and apart to expose him. The men then took a break for a mid-morning drink, with some food. Jahhan could smell the aroma of foods he hadn’t tasted since he became a slave.

The first rape began after the break. Jahhan couldn’t see who took him, but that was alright. He grunted into the dirt as the first man forced him open, but the physical pain was the least of it.

He never got used to being violated so intimately, even though he’d begun enduring pain better. He suffered just as badly from the pain, but he could put the pain behind him when it was over. Even the daily humiliations of his new life were becoming routine, but the rapes left his chest constricted with horror and self-loathing. The feeling never eased, just continued to build.

A bulky, short man lifted him from the floor and laid him across the table. He joked with the others as he rocked the table with the force of his thrusts. Another man had him hold himself open, which prevented him from bracing himself, scraping his cheek against the rough wood. Just a hole, he thought as the man thrust into him, not a person. The man smacked him on the behind with a laugh when he finished, and the next man took his place.

He’d barely finished, slumping over Jahhan in the aftermath of his orgasm, when his fellows shuffled him to the side and moved Jahhan off the table. They ruffled his hair, tweaked his nipples, and punched him lightly, laughing and teasing. They spoke too fast for Jahhan’s rudimentary Bese and tired mind, but he understood “slave” and “whore” and “good” and “pretty”. Jahhan stayed as still and unresponsive as he could.

Some of the men were finished with the sport for now. They’d fetched chairs and started playing games at the table. Every man not touching him or holding game pieces held a smoke in one hand and a drink in the other. Exactly how Jahhan would have pictured military down time, minus the beaten, naked slave.

A wiry man with hazel eyes handed him a drink and fondled him. He drained the cup in one tip, figuring they drank alcohol and hoping to take the edge off his senses. The man chuckled, took the cup, and set it on the table. He guided Jahhan back until his knees hit the bed. The man pushed him to his back and climbed between his legs.

Jahhan tried to roll over, remembering Lehu had said he was free to not follow orders until they returned to the station. As much as he hated being helpless on his stomach, he hated anyone watching his face more. The man slapped him twice, then cuffed his wrists to the bed. After a few more slaps reinforcing a command to look, the man slid Jahhan’s hips onto his lap and thrust into him while Jahhan watched his hazel eyes filling with lust, his face concentrating on his pleasure, and finally his face creasing as he came.

Thankfully, the next man turned him face down. He pressed his cheek to the mattress with his face towards the tent wall. He lost track of what was being done to his body until the pain of intrusion stopped, and suddenly he was being maneuvered again. They sat him on the bed and let him be for the moment. The game on the table had ended, or been moved elsewhere. Many men had left.

He hadn’t cared to count before, but he didn’t think there had been all twelve at any one point. He hadn’t pleasured twelve in the morning and he was, mostly, certain twelve men hadn’t taken him during the day. But there had been at least eight men in the tent earlier. Now there were only five. They were fiddling with a box with wires.

He watched, mind half switched off and uncomprehending until the hazel-eyed man looked at him and grinned. Jahhan studied the box, still unsure of the purpose, but knowing it meant pain. He looked at the men closer: pale man with rosy cheeks, muscular man with the thick belt, bulky joker, hazel-eyed man, and a dusky man with full lips who hadn’t particularly drawn Jahhan’s attention before.

They flipped the filthy mattress off the bed, dragged the frame to the center of the tent and moved the table next to it. They tied him to the bed with thick straps, arms and legs to the corners. Jahhan knew what he was in for when they attached one of the wires to the frame and a thick cable to one of his big toes with a clamp. Announcers on the viewer reported tortures like this inflicted by the defeated forces—not the Centrists who took power, of course not.

They stuffed a rubber gag into his mouth. The gag looked like a thicker version of those used by boxers to protect their teeth. Jahhan shuddered. The pale man attached something cool to the back of his neck. Jahhan puzzled over it while they finished preparations. He had long ago discovered distraction went a long way towards staying sane.

The pain of the first shock caused him to jerk his head, slamming it into the metal frame, cutting off his muffled shout and making the pain briefly seem distant. The men looked embarrassed. The joker left the tent and returned with wadded cloth to stuff behind his head. Then they began again.

Jahhan screamed behind his gag as pain tore through his entire body again and again. His muscles convulsed painfully and his body burned. They sent the shocks throughout his body until rare tears rolled from his eyes, then moved the wires on the bedframe to two metal batons to deliver shocks to specific parts.

They enjoyed one part in particular, except the man with full lips and dark eyes. He’d had a slightly dusky complexion when they started frying Jahhan’s balls, but he was decidedly pale when he excused himself for the evening. Jahhan actually felt a moment of victory before another shock ripped through his groin. His head thrashed back and forth. His sweat slick hair fanned across his face. The hazel-eyed man brushed the hair away, for the hundredth time. Jahhan jerked his head away from him.

They finally tired of testing the sensitivity of his parts with probes. The pale man moved the thing on his neck to the small of his back. They packed away all probes but one. The hazel-eyed man showed him a metal object shaped like one Jahhan used in his sexual techniques training to prepare himself to accommodate larger men. He began moaning and shaking his head even before they finished attaching the wire.

The joker removed his gag. They watched him expectantly.

Even knowing he would only amuse the tormentors, Jahhan had to struggle to keep from begging them. They’d had enough amusement from him.

The joker moved the gag towards him. “Please.” Jahhan said hoarsely in Bese, unable to hold the words back. “Please no.”

The big man who had the wide belt leaned back and spoke to the others. A brief discussion ensued. Jahhan understood enough to know the big man spoke on his behalf, for whatever reason. Regardless, the discussion ended. The big man left.

The joker returned the gag. The pale man and hazel-eyed man untied Jahhan’s legs, pulled them back and retied them with his knees on either side of his chest.

Jahhan could only endure helplessly as they slid the plug in and out of his raw anus, toying with him. Then the blinding pain came and he screamed an endless scream into the gag. Sanity be damned. He left his body behind for carrion.

***
Lehu found Sesul watching the spectacular sunset over the harsh rock terrain and prickly brush of Duarya. At least his eyes pointed in the direction of the brilliant reds and oranges spanning the sky. As he approached, he could see Sesul’s mind was focused somewhere else entirely.

“So, what business did you have in Duarya?” Sesul asked. Lehu had been purposefully vague when he left in the morning.

“I went on a date.” Lehu couldn’t help but laugh at the peculiarity of the statement from his own lips.

The strange response drew Sesul out of wherever he’d been. He regarded Lehu with a raised eyebrow. “Not the one Kinnet . . .”

“The very same.”

“Oh, you can’t tell her.”

“I do not intend to tell her. She’ll find out anyway.” He sighed. She was too composed to gloat, but it wouldn’t help convince her to stay out of his affairs in the future.

Sesul groaned, but with a small smile, then he sobered. “Mijre . . .”

“Said she thought Aliesin was good for me. She promised she’d leave her be.” He knew he’d pay a price for the concession though.

“It’s still a risk.”

“I know.”

“But a risk worth taking I think.”

Lehu blinked at him for a moment. Without Kinnet and himself to take the repercussions, Sesul would’ve provoked Mijre into killing him by now. With them around to suffer the aftermath, Sesul didn’t care to take any risk.

He considered pursuing the topic, but Sesul looked as if he had to say something he’d wanted to put off as long as he could.

“I got news today,” he said, his expression chilly enough to make Lehu twitch. “Pietsi.”

“Oh for . . . What’s he doing now?” Pietsi was fighting harder than a cornered dog. Making a nuisance of himself and threatening to become an actual danger to them.

“He’s building a fleet.”

“How?” The man had exhausted his resources the last time he built up his fleet, then went into debt when a deal he counted on fell through.

“Ardres.”

He understood Sesul’s mood. If they could have chosen the most problematic alliance out of all their enemies, Pietsi allying with Ardres would have topped the list. And that alliance became more secure each time Mijre blocked their plans. “Damn.”

“I have orders to collect Prince Giole after I’m finished with Jahhan. Mijre is calling a meeting. I’ll take Jahhan if you want to return to Railu tonight.”

So much for basking in the memory of Aliesin’s company. “Mijre need me back?”

“By tomorrow evening.”

“I’ll stay and take Jahhan tomorrow.” Maybe he could forget Baceti business for one night.

Sesul nodded and took one last look at the rapidly darkening sky, then laughed unexpectedly. “Maybe the business with Pietsi will distract Kinnet from your date.”

Unlikely, but one could dream.

***
Jahhan returned to reality in a tent version of the medical station. He distantly thought his torture had continued, then the remaining men had taken pleasure from his body one last time, but the memories were hazy and distant. Every inch of his body ached fiercely. Medical did only as much as needed to speed healing and prevent long-term damage. Nothing in the way of pain relief. At least they had also cleaned what the men had left on him, and in him.

Jahhan knew he should feel disgust at the memory of the semen running down his legs as he lay half over the table, receiving the men the last time, but it didn’t matter. What happened to the body, what happened to him, didn’t matter. He knew something had given way this time. When he’d let go. When he’d let them have him. He didn’t get everything back.

When Sesul came to the tent entrance, Jahhan knew he’d come to take what was left.

Patients in medical had leave not to perform obeisance, so Jahhan didn’t rise until Sesul ordered him to follow. He struggled to stand. He lay on a mat on the floor, and his aching muscles didn’t have enough strength to get him to his feet.

Sesul gripped his upper arms and drew him to his feet. Supporting him by his arms, Sesul led him to a tent more luxurious than the rest. Rugs, pillows and blankets on each side of a low table formed a cushioned space large enough for a man to lay full-length. Sesul eased him down onto one of the heaps of pillows and lay against his back.

Slaves brought him his usual breakfast. Sesul propped Jahhan up against his chest so he could eat. The calculated gentleness after the pain threatened to crack what little composure Jahhan had left.

After the meal had been taken away, Sesul laid him on his back on the pillows and regarded him inscrutably. “Despite my promise, I have been neglecting you.”

Jahhan went cold.

“I’ve spoken with your instructors. You’ve fallen behind in your work. Our owner thinks perhaps you need more motivation.” Sesul regarded him with amused sympathy. “We’ll need to spend more time together while I see to your education, so you’ll be moved to my suite.”

A kick to the gut felt less jarring. Jahhan knew from experience. He tried to regain his breath unobtrusively, with Sesul’s knowing eyes on him.

“For now you’ll continue your other lessons, but soon you’ll begin your duties and you’ll need more time for those.”

Soon. Jahhan’s eyes closed briefly as he remembered the promise to the people he met during his first punishments, the people they had promised his body to.

“Did you think it wouldn’t happen?” Sesul said.

“No, master. Actually, I’m surprised it’s been so long.” Jahhan hoped Sesul knew Lehu had specified permission to speak until he returned to the station. If Sesul knew, he expected to be answered. If he didn’t . . .

Fortunately, Sesul didn’t seem surprised. “We don’t insult our guests with poorly trained pleasure slaves. I’ll have to be hard on you to get you caught up as it is. Don’t expect to be spared your owner’s entertainments either.”

Jahhan hadn’t, so he said nothing.

“If I deem you suitable and you begin visiting patrons, you will be given first rank.”

Jahhan knew he should have been dismayed by how deeply he desired the position of the lowest of the slaves. He would have no more freedom or hope, but he would be one amongst others. He would have clothing.

“I want to meet your expectations, master.”

---
DrkDreamer - I think "Mijre's good side" may be a contradiction in terms. Except she does try to confine her worse side a bit. (Poor Jahhan.) I haven't decided how much of Mijre will be revealed yet. She likes to keep her own counsel and I really don't want to make her mad.

***