Slave in Training
Page 12
My father started crying again. I hugged him.
Eventually, he calmed down enough to say, “You spoke to me once about mountaineers who climb Everest. Some of them die, you know.”
“We all die one day or another. And I don’t intend to die so young.”
“Do you know what your... ‘Master’ thinks about it?”
“Sometimes he discusses my future, but he never told me that he didn’t see one for me.”
From then on, it seemed that my parents wanted to pack into the few days we had left all they feared not being able to do thereafter. One morning we went for a walk in the countryside, a picnic basket overflowing with food placed into the trunk of the car. The next day, we all went shopping, and they bought me everything that my eyes rested upon for more than a few seconds. At this rate, I was going to need another suitcase. The following day, they invited me to dinner at a local restaurant.
“You never celebrated your graduation with us,” my mother said. During the meal, she asked if I was going to celebrate my birthday with them. I’d never thought about it. For me, it was the day of my departure.
“You don’t think that we’ve had enough celebrations lately?” I quipped, but I added that I could give them that pleasure before leaving. The next day, before going to the movies with them, I called my master to explain the situation.
He laughed. “Okay, Max. We can wait one more day.”
I had already mentioned my desire to learn to play a musical instrument, and while browsing the shops, I had stopped in front of a display of flutes. On the day of my birthday, my mother had prepared my favorite dishes. After the meal, they presented me with one of the most beautiful traverse flutes that I had ever seen plus a book with the title: “The ABC of Traverse Flute”. I didn’t know if my master would allow me to play, but a refusal on the part of a man trying to teach me so many things would be surprising, especially since he loved music even more than I did.
Immediately after our small party, I picked up my luggage and called my master.
“You’re not leaving already!” my mother exclaimed.
I told her that my master would be coming soon. After I’d kissed her and dad, I promised to be careful and went to wait outside. When my master arrived, he got out of his car and flung open the trunk so I could put my luggage inside.
“Hello, Max. Ready to change your life?”
I greeted him and told him that I thought I was ready.
“Open the car rear door for me. Then, after storing the luggage, take the driver’s seat. You’ll be driving us home. When we arrive, open the car door for me and see me to the front door of the house. Open it. Then park the car and come in with the luggage. Whenever we go out together, you will act the same way.”
I hadn’t even entered the car, and I had already got my first lesson and been appointed chauffeur and porter. Before leaving, I familiarized myself with the dashboard and gear lever then, after waving to my parents who were watching me through the living room window, I started the car and my new life.
Chapter 12
I can’t say that the first days of my life with my master were easy. I had a lot to learn and had to get used to doing everything his way. I was the slave and every effort had to come from me. I had to blend into the habits and lifestyle of my master, adjust to my new home and my new role.
We hadn’t even arrived at his home when my master made his first reproach. He pointed out to me that I tended to take my turns too wide, ending up near the center of the road sometimes. That meant I had to immediately pay more attention to how I handled every corner.
When I started to take in my luggage, my master saw me about to leave and asked quietly, “What are you doing, Max?”
“I was just going to put my luggage wherever you choose, Master,” I replied.
“Isn’t there something you should have done first?”
I thought about it, and then I understood. I put down my luggage and got undressed.
“I’m sorry, Master. I thought...”
“What did you think? That the rules I set before no longer apply now that you live here? Don’t forget, I also told you that whenever I reproached you, you didn’t need to give me an explanation of your error, unless I asked for it. From now on, you must pay attention to all of my instructions, those I gave you before and those I will be giving you from now on.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Then he proceeded to show me the room that was going to be my bedroom or my office for several months until we moved. The room was of an average size. Its walls were all bare. There was a small window overlooking a grove.
Apart from a single bed and closet, the room included a dresser, a simple straight wooden chair facing a desk on which stood a mechanical typewriter, a stack of white paper, some pencils and pens, a lamp and a non-electric alarm clock. There was also a bookshelf which contained a collection of various works that I suspected I would have to read, under the instructions from my master. On the top shelf were several books on methods to improve memory and others on relaxation and serenity. I couldn’t help smiling at the sight.
“What are you so amused about?”
“Those books. You must think that my training will stress me, and I may find it difficult to remember everything that I have to learn.”
He smiled back.
“I don’t only think so, I am absolutely certain of it. You wouldn’t be normal if it were otherwise. Now unpack your bags and come join me in the living-room when you’re done.”
I sorted my belongings between the desk, dresser and closet, where I found some bed sheets, another blanket and a quilt lying on a shelf. But not the slightest evidence of a pillow on the bed or in the closet.
When I went back to my master, he was sitting in his favorite chair. Before him were stacked several boxes and bags.
“Open it up. This is all for you.”
I was very curious to see what could be in these packages. The first box I opened contained a magnificent jacket and pants made of brown and black soft leather, with matching hat and knee-high boots. There was also a leather care kit: polish, brushes and chamois for their maintenance. In a bag, there were several jockstraps made of leather and other materials.
Another bag contained a variety of tailor-made jeans, black ones and blue ones, several plain black or white T-shirts, each with a different printed pattern on bondage or liberation themes. One of them represented two arms chained by the wrists. Only the forearms were visible. The hands were open, palms up, in a gesture of offering, and cradling a chain that was arranged in a figure eight which seemed to suggest a link to infinity. Another showed a flaming Phoenix being reborn from its ashes. A third wore the blood-red words: “Order and I’ll obey” written in several languages. From a distance, this repeated sentence looked like whip welts. The last t-shirt had a pattern representing in a very artistic way the head of a beautiful young man whose face expressed severe pain or extreme pleasure, or both; we couldn’t say.
The final bag contained what I’d call slave uniforms. There were shorts and loose pants, and long or short-sleeved shirts, all in ecru or black canvas. There were also two pairs of shoes: a pair of hiking boots for outdoors and Italian-made soft leather moccasins for indoors.
In another box, I found the three-piece suit and the chic shoes that I had worn at the graduation dinner.
The last and smallest box was a case containing a silver broad ring without any ornamentation on the outside. Inside was engraved: “Max is the property of James T”. My name was in rustic letters with coarse contours; my master’s name was in beautiful adorned letters. This ring fitted my little finger perfectly.
“Wear it on your left hand’s little finger,” he instructed me.
I couldn’t believe that my master had given me all these gifts. I thanked him profusely.
“Try on your leather outfit with a t-shirt and the boots, so I can see how it looks on you.”
Everything seemed tailor-made and fit me
like a second skin. All smelled of new leather.
“Come and see my slave,” he said, leading me in front of a large wall mirror in his room.
I looked like a biker or a bad boy. I imagined myself going out to a restaurant or a bar in our village. Dressed like that, I would cause a stir even among the bars’ regulars. But in my eyes, I was beautiful.
Then we went back to my room with the packages. While I undressed, leaving on only my silver chain and my ring, my master opened each of my drawers and looked in the closet. After glancing at the contents, he flicked through the reviews I had written on my recent readings. I felt that this inspection of my meager belongings bared me even more than my growing nakedness. I suspected that during the first few months of slavery the abolition of all sectors of my private life and the restriction on what I was allowed to possess would be the aspects of my new life that I’d have the most difficulty coming to terms with.
My master then handed me the now emptied bags and boxes. “Now you have the new suit and outfits that I gave you for special occasions. Gear is casual at college and if you are clothed at all inside the house, you’ll be wearing your slave livery. So pack everything except the essentials in here. For example, you won’t need your oldies. When you’re done, bring the bags to me.”
I didn’t know what he considered “essential” and “oldies”. Without any hesitation at all, I discarded my old tired and worn clothes, but should I consider my souvenirs as oldies? What else wasn’t essential to me? He had given me two bags and two boxes, but I only managed to fill the bags. I took these back to the living-room. “May I ask you a question, Sir?”
“You can talk to me freely now, Max, as long as you don’t abuse your right to speak.”
“Thank you, Master. I just wanted to know what you consider oldies and what you regard as essential clothing and items suitable for a slave.”
“Let me see the contents of these bags first.”
I emptied both bags on the floor at his feet. Then I waited for the verdict, standing, with my hands behind my back, legs spread. He stared at me straight in the eyes. “Why are you blushing?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Sir.” Then I remembered how much he disliked this kind of hollow and mindless response. “Maybe I feel like I want to cling to my old life too much, Master.” I looked down, troubled to discover how much I valued an old watch, a camera, a photo album and some gifts, given to me recently by my parents.
“Be more specific.”
I exposed my fears without cheating or hiding anything from him. I found it difficult to keep my tears at bay.
“No one can take away our memories, Max. Certainly not by taking away some old things. You love your parents? Very well. You want to be reminded of an old friend? Bravo. But, believe me; you don’t need a photo album or an old watch to do that. As for your gifts, no doubt many of them will be useful. But do you really need to keep them all?”
I tried to stand up straight and not act like a sulky child wanting to hang onto some old toys, but the idea that I was already left with almost nothing of my past and was about to be dispossessed of even more was a torture.
“You’re just feeling sorry for yourself, Max. There are lots of people who are worse off: all the paupers of this world, the sick or disableds, those who saw a loved one suffering or dying, for example. But Max Lemay... I don’t think he deserves that sort of pity. You have chosen this ordeal and you have the opportunity to put an end to it whenever you want. Not everyone is so lucky.” He gave me time to think about his words, and then ordered me to return to my room with my empty bags. “Put in one of them the clothes and items you want to keep, but don’t think you have an absolute need for. And in the other, place what you’re ready to let go of permanently. And, by the way, only keep your new underwear. Those that I’ve given you and the ones your parents recently bought you. For the rest, you won’t need them anymore.”
I returned to my room and cried as I placed my souvenirs and some of my gifts in a bag. As for the rest, I included some T-shirts with violent, rebellious or blatantly commercial inscriptions on them. I also added the underwear, as instructed, some of my old socks, shirts with too garish colors and patterns, two pairs of pants and two sweaters, which I didn’t want any more. Some of the clothes were new, others less so.
When I returned to the living-room, I brought the bags and also my traverse flute and my music book. My master asked me again to empty the bags: first the one filled with what I was ready to throw out, and next, the other with what I wanted to keep. He then gave me back my souvenirs and photo album. I was so touched that I would have thrown myself at his feet to thank him, if he hadn’t immediately started talking. “That’s fine, Max. You did an excellent job of sorting. I know that you found it difficult. But you have to understand that the past you call yours was that of a free young man, and you’re not free anymore. If you want to go forward, we must break the umbilical cord.” He then pointed to the flute and extended his hand. “Show it to me.”
I handed it to him. He weighed the flute, looked at it from all angles, trying the keys. He asked me if I knew how to play. In response, I showed him the cover of my book. He started playing a few notes of a Jethro Tull tune and a sonata that was unknown to me, which he said was a piece by Poulenc. Then he gave me back my flute. “I was going to offer you a musical instrument, but I didn’t know what would suit you, so I waited. This one will do perfectly.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Come on. Back to your room to store your souvenirs and your flute, then I’ll show you other parts of the house and what you can or must do there.” Apart from the areas of the house that I already knew, he showed me my room’s en-suite. It wasn’t really a bathroom but rather a shower room, because there was a sink, a toilet, a small cabinet and a shower stall. “In the cabinet is everything you need for internal and external cleansing.”
“Internal, Sir?”
“Enema bag and nozzles, and anal spike.”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, imagining these enemas’ purpose.
“You will be able to store your razor and other personal belongings in the same cabinet.” He then guided me into a nearby room: a gym containing all the modern equipment you could dream of.
“You can and will keep yourself in top physical shape. You’ll train at dawn, before preparing our breakfast. Or, if you prefer, you can run along the trails at the rear of the house. It’s up to you.”
There was another room which was a guest bedroom, nicely furnished and comfortable. I had never entered his private office. It was at least twice as large as my room, and it was furnished with a desk, chair and armchair, a black filing cabinet, large bookshelves full of books and a few artifacts. On the top of his desk, there was an electric typewriter, a tape recorder, a pencil holder, a large egg-shaped agate, partially polished, acting as a paperweight, a blotter and a potted plant. On the only free wall was a beautiful picture that reminded me of a Salvador Dali. But I couldn’t imagine that my master’s fortune would be large enough to afford an original, and even if it was an original, I couldn’t tell. A French window overlooked a garden I’d never seen before and, behind that, were the surrounding woods. All the furniture, except for the filing cabinet and the pencil holder, were made of oak and a black wood that looked like ebony.
“I won’t show you around the basement today, just know that the only time you went there, I didn’t show you all of it. There is a laundry where you will find a washing machine and dryer, as well as all the things you will need for washing, drying and ironing. There is also an attic, where I have some old stuff stored, but we won’t go there tonight.
Whenever we entered another room, my master stated the tasks I’d have to perform there. I was, among other tasks, in charge of housekeeping, purchasing necessities for the satisfaction of my master’s needs and pleasures, house maintenance, cooking meals, and so on. I had to mow the lawn and weed the garden.
I was also respons
ible for cleaning and ironing my master’s clothes as well as my own, and cleaning and shining our shoes. In his room, he opened his closet and indicated the clothes on the left hand side. “You won’t need to take care of these. Send them to the laundry after I wear them.” On the right hand side, he showed me the clothes that would require special care when I cleaned them and gave me strict instructions on how to do it.
He told me that he had opened a bank account in my name, in which he would deposit money to cover anything I might need. “Just tell me what you have to buy, so that I can deposit the necessary amount.”
I listened to him list of all my chores and wondered how I would find the time to accomplish everything. Then I thought of my mother, who needed to do all these things and more. But what was going to happen when I started my courses at college or university?
“Max!”
I jumped. Judging by the impatient tone of his voice, my master had obviously tried to shake me out of my dreams several times already.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Eh... I... I was thinking of college, Master.”
“What in particular about college?”
I hesitated, unwilling to tell him about my doubts.
“Max. You’re wondering how you’ll be able to fulfill all your slave duties when you go to college. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’ll reassess the assignment of your tasks as and when changes happen. If you really become overloaded, I’ll make sure I provide you with assistance. But, Max, let me remind you that before you return to school, you’ll be in training and that this training will necessitate many hours throughout the day. Don’t count on any respite between the time you wake-up in the morning and your bedtime at night, no more leave or vacation. I promised your parents I’d let you visit them for two days at Christmas and two more during the summer holidays. I’ll add a full extra day for your journey to and from their place. But that is all you will have. You’ll no longer have time for outings with friends or other leisure activities.”