Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  My master hadn’t given up hope of proving that he was right. Maybe the current investigator had finally struck a nerve or maybe my master’s arrival in Montreal worried the alleged murderers, who lived in the same area. If someone had made the attempt on my master’s life once, the same danger could arise again. That is why he suggested I leave.

  While my master read the newspaper and sipped a rum that I had brought him, I cleaned the floor. Closing my eyes and moving my arm in large circles so as to be sure to remove all the stains. When I thought I must have finished, I half-opened my eyes only to discover that a few red spots remained. I scrubbed harder, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t blood, but tomato juice. Obviously, a part of me didn’t believe it, because I had stomachaches when I finished.

  “Come here a moment, Max.”

  I approached the chair where he was reading. I was certain that he hadn’t failed to notice my effort to work blindly.

  “Are you okay, Max?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m happy being able to take care of you. If I had nothing else to do but think, I don’t know if... I think I...”

  “Yes, I understand. We’ll have to make sure we keep you very busy then.” He ended the sentence with a teasing smile.

  I appreciated his efforts to make me feel better. “I’ve no doubt that you will be able to find something to completely occupy my mind.”

  “Yes. Especially since we still have more to do to make ourselves comfortable here. And your enslavement examination is approaching. We have to prepare you for that. Once everything is settled, I’ll submit you to a broad sample of what you may expect that day. Life will be extremely difficult for you soon, Max.”

  Anything rather than the nightmare of losing a loved one, I thought. Maybe I would see things differently in no time, but for now, it was hard to believe that there could be a greater pain than I was already feeling.

  Because of his fears, my master decided we needed a bodyguard, but our phone line wasn’t connected yet. He wanted to go to the neighbors on his own, but I insisted on accompanying him. He was rapidly losing patience with my mother hen side.

  “Master, I have to reassure my parents anyway. They must have seen coverage of the murder on television and saw me pushing the journalists away.”

  “Very well, then let’s meet our neighbors.”

  We began with our nearest neighbors: a couple in their thirties.

  “May we use your phone?” my master asked politely. “Ours is not connected yet.”

  “Yeah, come on in. Are you two okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  My master complimented our hosts on their interior decoration, the profuse display of green plants, almost everything. But it was true. The house was beautiful and bright: sunlight shone and bounced off the tasteful furniture.

  We made our calls.

  My master decided he needed more than one bodyguard, and hired two: one for day and another for night. He explained that he’d need them for the next three weeks. That period coincided with the time remaining before the test of my suitability and my oath of allegiance to the slave market. I hoped he wasn’t just intending to sell me to protect me from those who were targeting him. He also called his friends in the slave market, warning them about what had just happened. He told them of his doubts about the police theory. They offered to pay for bodyguards, but he refused. He preferred to hire and fire at will rather than accept men employed by the Market, who, for all he knew, may be in cahoots with the murderer and those who had hired him.

  I spoke to my father. Mom wasn’t at home at the moment. He said they had tried to reach me; they even called the police to get our phone number or that of a close neighbor. My parents were very worried. Dad wanted to know more about the “case”, as he described it. He made it sound like part of an “Ironside” episode. I told him that I knew nothing other than what the newspapers said.

  “And how are you, boy?” he asked.

  I started to cry. I told him how much I had loved Gaby, how I missed her already. “My master is as sad as a weeping willow, but we both struggle not to make it harder for each other.”

  “Are you sure you’re not in danger? Shouldn’t you come here for a while?”

  I told him about the bodyguards, which seemed to both reassure and disappoint him, because I had no reason to go home now.

  “Be cautious still. Can I speak to Mr. Teka?”

  I handed the phone to my master. After hearing my father’s first question, my master asked me to go away. I went to wait at the door. I could still hear snatches of conversation about me, and my safety. I hated having to sit there and wait. I wanted to tell my father that all that mattered to me was my master’s safety. But I understood that it would hardly reassure my dad. And since my master wanted me to stay there and wait, I had to bow to his will.

  After thanking our neighbors, we went back to the house and started to put things in order. Shortly after, Gaby’s parents arrived.

  To begin with, they discussed the steps they needed to go through to retrieve their daughter’s body, and then they questioned my master about what had “really” happened.

  He told them that things were “really” as he had described them to the police.

  They began to call him a dirty liar, debauched, and an exploiter of children. I wanted to tell them they didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, but my master stopped me.

  Gabrielle had never told them about our master. During her stay with us, she had not visited her parents once and had never called them. They were probably relying on gossip about him. He let them vent their venom. Then he said that he regretted Gabrielle’s death at least as much as they did.

  Having been with my master when Gaby told him of her past, I knew that her relationship with her parents was far from idyllic. If anything, my master could even accuse them of cruelty toward their child. But he said nothing. It wasn’t the right time. His love for Gabrielle urged him to avoid tainting our memories of her with those pitiful moments from her past. I admired him for it.

  The couple left, promising to prove that my master was responsible for the death of their daughter.

  “Do what you want, but it won’t restore Gabrielle’s life.”

  “No, but it will prevent you from killing this one,” the woman said, nodding at me.

  I couldn’t resist answering for myself. “I’ve much less to fear from him than Gaby had to worry about you both.”

  My master closed the door on the indignant exclamations of the couple. He gave me a sympathetic look, while shaking his head from side to side as if to say, “Why did you do that, you unruly child!” But he didn’t punish me for it. Perhaps he had struggled to resist answering them the same way.

  We continued to settle in. My master supervised my work. He only lent a hand when we needed two people to move a piece of furniture. He told me he’d keep me busy, and he fulfilled his promise. I hardly had time to think about what happened to us the first day here. But when I walked through the living room one day, my master scolded me: “Stop it, Max”.

  “What, Master?” I really didn’t know what he was objecting to.

  “Whenever you cross the room, you find a way to avoid the area where Gabrielle’s blood was.”

  In truth, he had noticed my action, even if I hadn’t realized it myself; I was acting unconsciously.

  “Fetch me my book and pour out a glass of rum.” He meant the book he’d been reading lately. I did what he asked.

  “Now, sit on the floor, directly on the place you were so eager to avoid, and read to me.”

  My heart sank. I couldn’t believe my master would require such a terrible thing of me, not so soon after Gaby’s death.

  “Trying to avoid your memories won’t help you, Max. Fleeing never helps us. Come on, obey.”

  I followed his directions. Sitting on the exact spot where she died, marked by a few remaining tiny drops of blood. I began reading and crying at the same time; not under
standing a word I read.

  My master’s voice was vibrating with emotion when he said, “Do it in her remembrance, in her honor. Tell yourself that her blood penetrates you and purifies you; it will help you to be stronger, more generous, like she was.”

  I breathed deeply and resumed my reading. Although I continued to cry while reading the story, I imbued my mind with fond memories of Gaby and repeated mentally how much I loved her.

  I never avoided that spot on the floor again. I didn’t even try to wipe away the last drops of blood immediately; it wasn’t urgent. They didn’t frighten me anymore. Whenever I crossed over the place where she died, I felt like I was receiving a blast of affection and vital energy.

  The two guards had arrived the evening after they were hired. They were both burly and well armed. But George, whose skin was even darker than my master’s was the more massive of the two, and possibly less able to move fast if necessary. The other was white, but tanned as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. His name was Jeremiah. “But everyone calls me Jerry,” he said with a grin.

  First up, my master asked them to talk about their experience as bodyguards. Then he questioned them about what they knew of the “case” and what they thought of it. “Do you believe what the police said? That it might have been a case of mistaken identity, because the previous owner was an underling in the Mafia?”

  “Yeah, that’s possible,” George admitted. “But, I don’t care who wants to kill you. My job is to protect you. That’s all. Not to play detective. I leave that to the police.”

  “An error is possible, but don’t overlook other possibilities,” Jerry answered.

  “What possibilities?”

  “That the murderer really came to kill you, for example, or that you may be the murderer yourself, sir.”

  My master did not seem disturbed in the slightest by this assertion. But George stared at Jerry as if he was crazy. How dare he imply that his future employer was a murderer!

  “And why would anyone want to attack me? Why would I murder... my child, Jerry?”

  Couldn’t Jerry see the painful slowness of my master’s movements? His blank expression? His broken voice? How did he not recognize his affliction as the mark of someone truly mourning. The truth was so obvious to me. How could he see him as a murderer?

  “I don’t have a reliable source of information about you, sir. But I made a few inquiries and heard all sorts of outrageous things about you.”

  “What kind of things?” my master asked quietly, as if he was already bored by the usual allegations he was about to hear again.

  Jerry immediately started relating all the gossip he’d heard, adding, “I don’t know how much is true, sir. I’m just repeating what I was told.”

  “And despite everything you’ve heard and thinking there is a possibility that I am a murderer, you decided to apply for this job.” I was troubled by that, but my master seemed very calm. Maybe he preferred Jerry’s blunt honesty to any lie or secret.

  “As I said, I don’t know what is true and what is false. I prefer to make up my own mind.”

  “Rest assured that I am not a murderer, but what if everything else you heard about me was true?”

  Jerry’s eyes were small and a little too close together, making him look like a sly ferret or a fox. When he smiled, he fixed his gaze on my master’s eyes and said, “I’d like to see that slave thing they spoke about.”

  My master gave them a quick tour of our new house, including the basement. When we returned to the living room, he ordered me to perform the special dance for our visitors.

  I did as he instructed, putting into my dance all the fervor of my youth. If either of them wanted to leave because of my relationship with my master, it’d be better if they did so straight away.

  George seemed very uncomfortable with what he saw. At first, Jerry lifted his eyebrows and frowned, but then a broad grin spread across his face, revealing all his teeth which were thin and sharp. “Wow! What a dance! I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a dance to make even the most open-minded people blush.”

  “But I notice you’re not blushing,” my master commented.

  “I may still be young, but in this business, I’ve seen it all. If this kid is a consenting participant, and it seems to me that he is, I don’t see the problem.”

  “And you, George, what do you think?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take the night shift.”

  “Max is my slave. I use him in every conceivable way, day and night. If it’s because you are uncomfortable with our relationship, it may be better if I find someone else. What’s your verdict?”

  As George didn’t say anything, my master made the decision for him. “I’m sorry. Please leave us now.”

  My master showed George to the door. Meanwhile, Jerry questioned me. “Slave, huh? Are you for real or is it just a joke?”

  “This is not a joke. I am a slave in training. Mr. Teka is my trainer and master. The next few days will be particularly stressful for me, because I’m about to undergo some sort of test that will officially qualify me to be a slave. If you can’t bear the idea of a kid, as you call me, suffering a lot, it would be better for you to leave us too, especially if you think that my master could have killed Gaby.”

  Meanwhile, my master had returned, so he had overheard the majority of what I said to Jerry. “Max is absolutely right. What’s your decision?”

  “What do you mean by ‘suffering a lot’?”

  “If I told you, ‘Jerry, I’ll make you suffer cruelly,’ what do you think I would do to you?”

  Jerry thought for a moment, frowning. The thoughts that crossed his mind must not have been pleasant, because they darkened his face.

  “Yes. Those are exactly the sorts of things I’d do,” my master inferred.

  Jerry went pale. He stared at me for a while then he said, “Why do you allow yourself to be treated in this fashion?”

  I told him in essence what I had said to Gabrielle and my father. That was what I’d say to anyone who asked me the same question.

  “So are you staying or going?” my master insisted.

  “Was the other kid also your slave?”

  “Yes.”

  “She sacrificed herself for you, right?”

  My master lowered his head and stared at the floor. His response was almost a whisper. “Yes.”

  “And you,” Jerry asked, turning to me. “Would you do the same for him?”

  “Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

  “And do you think it’s true, that she gave her life for him. Saved him?” He nodded at my master.

  “I’m sure it’s true. She was like that. She was our guardian angel. She’d also have given her life for me, if needed. She loved us and we loved her just as much.” I had a lump in my throat when I finished speaking.

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you actually do see,” my master replied. “But you’ll understand soon enough. In fact, I’m sure you will. You might even become an acceptable master.”

  “Whoa! No, not me.”

  “Of course you could.” My master smiled at Jerry and patted him on the back. “If I told you that Max is your slave now, and you can do whatever you like to him, ask of him whatever you want, what would you say?”

  “You mean he’d be totally at my beck and call?”

  “Yep!”

  Jerry gazed at me and then asked me if it was true, whether I’d obey him.

  “If my master says you’re also my master, then what he says is true. I’d do my best to abide by your wishes.”

  Jerry smiled at me and asked me to repeat my little dance. I obeyed him. Then he asked me to perform a few variants of his devising. When I obeyed him, he laughed. He could barely keep from clapping his hands out of satisfaction. I liked him.

  My master cut to the chase. “Okay, now the serious stuff.”

  They discussed his schedule and the need for him to get blood tests as soon as possible
, to be sure he had no sexually transmissible disease. My master then asked if he knew anyone who could take George’s place.

  Jerry said he might know someone; he’d phone today. And in the meantime, he’d try to find someone for tonight. “At worst, I can do both shifts.”

  My master and I found his enthusiasm amusing.

  In the end, Jerry decided to stay. My master made him swear to keep what he learned about the slave market a secret. He also asked him to be discreet about what he’d see in this house.

  That first day, every now and then, Jerry asked me to perform a small service for him, but didn’t dare to go further. When he went to the toilet, I joined him. Without giving him time to sheathe his fleshy weapon, I knelt between his legs. When I pulled out his balls, his breath accelerated. And when I began to lick his dick hungrily, he said, “Oh my God!” I only stopped when he let out a little foxlike squeak just before he came.

  “It really is true then, huh?”

  “All that and more.”

  “Your master must be a happy man.”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Yes, of course I understand. I don’t mean...”

  “Yes. I know. Thank you, Sir, for allowing me to serve you.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing at all. The pleasure was all mine,” he replied with a smirk.

  I definitely liked Jerry a lot and hoped that his friend was just as nice.

  But when he arrived, I found him to be as gloomy as Jerry was jaunty. His name was Jean, and his somewhat sad look made you want to console him. Lighter than Jerry, he was also more brisk, more flexible. When my master told him that he must undergo blood tests, he said he already carried proof that he was completely healthy. My master examined his papers and gave them back to him and nodded his approbation. Apparently, these documents were very recent, thus there was no necessity for him to submit to new tests.