Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  The information about him said: Johnny Lynch, thirty-eight years old, one of the most prominent trainers in the Market. He had been a slave for many years, spotter, independent trainer and master. He had also worked for a well known school for beginner slaves and another for more advanced ones. The results of his own slave test were amazing; he had the highest final score ever recorded: ninety-seven percent. All those who assisted to his final test had heaped praise on him. More praise from those who had him as their slave or as a trainer. He had a background in journalism and was now working freelance, travelling the world in search of interesting stories to sell to newspapers and renowned magazines. He had already won many major awards for some of his articles. He had risked his life many times to save others, often perfect strangers. I liked him. A lot.

  When my master asked me what I thought about him, I didn’t want to lie. He just smiled when he heard me say that I kept dreaming about his friend. “He’ll assist me on the day of the event. So, he won’t be one of your testers. Think yourself lucky. He wouldn’t have spared you, believe me. Sometimes he is much more severe than I am.”

  Damn! I thought. I would have liked to be tested by him. For once I felt desire for someone as much as I desired James Teka. I will always love my master, but I longed for this Johnny Lynch.

  ~.~.~

  On the eve of the big day, all the visitors had finally left, and my master kept me in a constant state of arousal. He wanted to turn me into a sex bomb ready to explode. By the time night fell, I was so hot with erotic cravings that the mere touch of his hand on my flesh gave me chills. No doubt that sensitivity would come in handy the following day to ensure every gesture, even brutal ones, would become a source of desire and pleasure. Perhaps that heightened awareness would make it easier to cope with what lay ahead.

  I booked catering services for that fateful day. My master didn’t want me to waste time preparing food for several meals and twenty guests. I had better fish to fry. Extra armchairs, straight back chairs and tables had been delivered the day before to allow everyone to sit and eat at ease. I would be busy enough, helping prepare the tables where the guests would eat. They were to arrive shortly before lunchtime. The plan was that I should welcome them, help them settle in and make them feel at home. Taking care of so many people was a significant part of my test as far as I was concerned.

  My master had described to me briefly the testing procedure itself, which would take place in the basement. The trainer was entitled to attend the entire event, but was not supposed to influence its course or comment on the tests imposed by the twenty guests. Each guest had ten minutes to test the slave, except for the eldest of the group who could take up to fifteen minutes. The master of ceremonies drew by lots the order in which they participated as well as was the main instrument of their ‘torture’: various types of whips, floggers, straps, riding crops, canes, rods, etc., all supplied by the trainer. ‘Main instrument,’ because the guests were allowed to choose two other implements from the training master’s supply or propose others brought with them that day.

  The trainer was free to accept or reject an instrument brought by a guest. If he accepted, the visitor could use it, but he had to donate it to the slave afterward. According to the custom, the new slave offered these gifts to his trainer in gratitude for his training, but nothing obliged him to do so.

  Once this part of the test was over, the master-trainer may evaluate his slave’s performance or allow him to rest while the guests gathered to discuss the novice’s performance. Then, each invitee indicated on a scorecard a percentage he or she believed that the slave deserved for his performance. They stored these cards in a special urn and the master of ceremonies, who had been specially designated for this task, examined the urn’s content and added the results, which he noted in the slave’s record. The average score was then calculated and would be revealed as soon as the slave appeared again in the presence of everyone involved in the test.

  My master had added a personal final event. In the past, each of his slaves had offered a part of himself. So far, each of them had contributed the last phalanx of their left hand’s little finger. But everyone had been free to offer the body part of their choice, hair excepted. I didn’t intend to change the custom.

  For weeks beforehand, he had given me one of three different pendants shaped like a half-finger to wear around my neck. He would give one of them to me to take the place of my missing phalanx, as he had done for my predecessors. My master refused to tell me the significance of the different colors of these pearly fingers: pink, white and black. He would reveal the answer to me the next day, just before the offering. The doctor who looked after me when I was sick would be in charge of the surgery performed without any kind of analgesic or anesthetic. My master and one of his former slaves would be there to help me through this sacrifice.

  I felt as prepared as possible for such a terrible experience. I was nervous now, but I knew just before the start of the test, I’d be terrified. So many people, so many strangers coming to check my skills! And the test, including the offering, would go for four hours. Four hours of torment! Would I have the courage and the will to succeed?

  The night before the big day, my master gave me a powerful sleeping tablet when I went to bed. He didn’t want to risk me having a sleepless night as it may impact on my test results tomorrow. Despite this soporific, which should have guaranteed me a dreamless night, I had a horrible nightmare. In it, I failed my test. Toward the end of my dream, completely exhausted, I begged for my suffering to stop. Kneeling before my master, I kept repeating, “I did my best, but I couldn’t stand it anymore.” My master reassured me, saying, “I know. I know.” Then he raised a gun to his head and fired. Despite the horrific nightmare, I hadn’t woken up, but in the morning, I remembered everything. The uneasy feeling lasted all morning and even after.

  My master seemed almost as on edge as I was, tending to get impatient for no reason at all. I had never seen him in such a state. It took me a while to work out why he was so nervous, until I realized that while my failure meant an end to my career, it would also affect him, because his reputation would suffer. So far, none of his slaves had failed. All had had excellent results. I didn’t want to disappoint him and be the first to fail the test or get bad grades. I wanted to make him proud of me, happy for my success.

  Maybe his concern about my possible failure wasn’t the only reason for his nervousness. He knew too well how ruthless the test was. He knew that I would suffer tremendously. If he had any feelings for me, that fact could not leave him unmoved. Yet, he needed to remain cool throughout my trial. Maybe I wouldn’t be the only one being tested and it would be as difficult for him as it would be for me. I only hoped that my horrible nightmare was nothing more than that, a horrible nightmare.

  ~.~.~

  By the time our guests began arriving, our facilities were ready. I had put on some music and served tea to my master, who was trying to read in the living room. In the half hour before our first guest’s arrival, I think he failed to read more than three pages. I had tried to help him relax: clowning, telling jokes, offering him a massage or a blow-job, but I think my mere presence was painful to him, for it reminded him of the upcoming event.

  Our new young bodyguard had to make sure that the guests weren’t armed. He couldn’t force anybody to comply, but he asked if they would be kind enough to let us check them and their luggage. Most were my master’s friends or long-time acquaintances. So we might have decided that it wasn’t necessary to check them, but if we granted that for some, others might have felt offended. Thus he chose to inspect everyone. The majority submitted good-naturedly to it. Only the perpetually grumpy objected.

  Eight guests would be staying in town after the event. Five of them would sleep here. They all would leave after breakfast tomorrow. One of my tasks was to store their luggage in what would be their room for the night.

  Apart from the two guests whom my master met for the first time
, everyone seemed very happy to see him. Everyone was kind to me, asking me how I felt. I replied, “Okay, at the moment,” and they laughed. The presence of his guests shook my master out of his stupor. He helped me get everyone settled, serve drinks and snacks, cigars or whatever the visitors desired.

  I spoke to each of them, using my training to inquire what was going on in their lives. For this stage of the test, I was dressed in my business attire. But several people told me they couldn’t wait to see what I looked ‘under it’. They spoke to me in English and French, and I answered the same.

  When Kathy, a friend of my master’s whom I had already met, arrived, I asked her about Andrew, her unruly slave. “I sent him to get trained at a slaves’ school in the United States. The school has an excellent reputation in the Market. I think it will do us both good to be away from each other, and have him serve masters stricter than me.”

  While I was putting her things away, I wondered whether she should get trained too. She was far too lenient with Andrew. It was good of her to pay for Andrew’s training, but if, on his return, she treated him the same way as before, Andrew would revert to his wayward self. I didn’t tell her what I believed though. I thought maybe I should discuss it with my master if I had time before the sale. He could mention it to her.

  Things were going pretty well with all our visitors, but I began to worry, because at half past eleven, Johnny Lynch hadn’t arrived. He was the only one missing. He said he would be here around eleven. When I told my master, he smiled at me. “Don’t worry. Your favorite will be here soon. He phoned to say he is on his way. He’ll get here a little before lunch. An unforeseen circumstance delayed him.”

  I went back to our guests and shortly after, I heard the front door bell ring. My heart started to pound faster. My master rose, saying: “Leave it to me. I’ll go.” I was a little disappointed. I was so anxious to see Johnny. But I went to the aid of someone who asked me where we kept the toilet paper, because there was nothing left on the dispenser.

  My master introduced the newcomer to everyone, “Most of you know Johnny Lynch. He will be our master of ceremonies and ensure the smooth running of the event and count Max’s scores.”

  Johnny shook a few hands, asked for the latest gossip about his friends and acquaintances, and chatted with the new participants. At one point, his jacket grazed my arm, and I felt a nervous discharge radiating out from my solar plexus in all directions around my body. Then, before I knew what was happening, he was standing in front of me, intentionally blocking my path and smiling. Speaking loud enough to be heard by all, he said, “So, you’re Max. James told me that you have been dreaming about me.”

  Everyone started laughing. I must have turned purple with embarrassment. I glared at my master with narrowed eyes and bared my teeth like a dog ready to bite. Everyone laughed even harder at my reaction. Johnny draped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to a quiet place where he cornered me against a wall. I broke out into a sweat. “So, young man, it’s the big day?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, gazing up into his eyes. The photo I’d seen didn’t do him justice. He was much better looking in person. Those eyes were so clear they almost glowed in the dark, just like those of a big cat. His disheveled hair reminded me of a lion’s mane. Everything about him was massive, but he moved like the beast he resembled. Superb!

  It took me a while to realize he was still staring at me also. Time and his eyes slid over me so effortlessly that I didn’t feel the weight of either. He could have nailed me to the wall with the brilliance of his smile if he wanted. He could even nail me there for real. Who cared? During those few minutes as he backed me up against the wall, I belonged to him. He could have asked anything of me. Anything, and I would have responded the same way. “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Tell me, Max. If your master wanted to keep you as his slave, for good, would you stay with him?”

  “Yes, Sir, with joy.”

  “And if I wanted a slave, too. Who would you choose?”

  I stared at him for a few more moments, admiring every single feature, the way sun and wind had left their mark on his face. I breathed in his animal smell. His clothes had a fresh open air tang. I’d have snuggled against him, I’d have made love to him wildly outside in the sunlight or in a dark corner away from all eyes. “I would stay with my master, Sir,” I finally answered.

  “Good. I wouldn’t have spoken to you anymore, Max, if you’d answered otherwise. Promise me not to tell James what I’ll reveal to you.”

  “I promise you, Sir.”

  “Max. Over the years, I’ve attended this kind of event for all James’ slaves, but I’ve never seen him in this state of mind before. Whenever he mentioned you in a phone call, he would tell me how proud he is of you, how you’re a good slave and a good boy. The thought of having to sell you already displeases him immensely. He wants to keep you, not only for the duration of your studies, but for good. But his sense of duty prevents it. He won’t do it, you may be sure of that. I don’t think he is completely aware of it, but James is in love with you.”

  This revelation left me speechless. Brought tears to my eyes. I knew that no one knew my master better than Johnny. He was perhaps his best friend. He had to know my master well enough not to be mistaken on a question of feeling.

  “You see, I wasn’t sure whether I should tell you or not. I don’t know whether by doing so I am complicating matters or simplifying them. But I said to myself, ‘James is my friend. It’s very important to him that this kid succeeds. I must do something for them.’ Max, you must pass and do well. He’d be terribly disappointed if you gave up, if you failed or even if your results weren’t up to his expectations. It isn’t a question of his reputation, it’s much more personal. The death of this kid, Gabrielle, hurt him much more than it seems. He still feels askew inside, unstable. He devoted what was left of his energy and his faith in himself in his work and in you. I think if you failed, it would undermine everything he has done so far in the slave market. He’d wonder if what he sees as his vocation and his purpose in life is a good thing and question his self-worth. I know I am putting a lot of pressure on you, Max, but maybe it will give you the strength to hold on right to the end, for him, for your master who has trained you so well, for this man who loves you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I started crying. Overwhelmed by memories of living with my master, my training, my love for him and for my sister Gaby, the prospect of what would happen today and now this revelation. Everything piled on top of me, tugging my heart’s strings in every direction.

  I felt Johnny’s big and a little rough hand stroke my left cheek. I looked up. His eyes were soft, but firm. A look that said, “Do it for him.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for talking to me. Don’t worry; you were right to do so. I’ll take what you said into account.”

  “Good. James has doubts, not so much about you, more about himself. He wonders if what he feels about you isn’t blindsiding him, making him unable to assess your true value. I think if he loves you so much, it’s precisely because he was not wrong; you’re the one he believes you to be. Good luck, kid.”

  Johnny walked away, leaving me propped up against the wall, thinking about what he said. When my legs were steady enough, I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face, then I went back to join our guests. Not long after that, the caterer arrived with the food and everyone started eating. I only ate a few pieces of fruit while serving coffee, wine and soft drinks. I returned several times to place a new record on the turntable. Some of the visitors, not fond of jazz and classical music, had contributed their own disks.

  The meal ended to the accompaniment of “Spanish Style” and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and “Be My Baby”. I collected the leftovers to sort through what we could keep and what I would need to throw away.

  When I finished, Johnny came to tell me that it was time to prepare myself and undress. He ordered me to wait in my room for him and take adva
ntage of my isolation to think of the commitment I was about to make while he conducted the draw to determine the order of participation and the instruments each would use.

  When he left, I stripped down, gave myself an enema, and lay on my bed, reminding myself that the next time I stretched out here, everything would be over and I’d know if I had succeeded or not.

  Terrible doubts rose in my mind. Was I crazy to allow complete strangers the right to impose on me almost four hours of questions and physical torment? Why? Why should these people believe they could inflict all this on me? Wasn’t I worth at least as much as they were? Why shouldn’t it be the opposite? Why wasn’t it my turn to give them a hard time? What did I gain by overcoming these obstacles? Maybe my mother was right to always beg me to go home. Maybe I had just buried myself in a long fantasy of slavery and it was time to go back to reality.

  Through the closed door, I could hear the ongoing turmoil. People going to their rooms or out to their cars. No doubt they would be collecting their personal instruments of torture.

  By the time Johnny returned, I still hadn’t answered all my existential questions, but I stood up anyway. When he saw me naked, he winked and said, “You have a beautiful little ass, just as I like it.”

  Despite my state of mind, I felt heat rise in my cheeks and down to my sex.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I don’t know, Sir. I’m so scared.”

  “Yes, it’s only natural. Tell yourself that this is part of your ordeal. A slave must learn to face his deepest fears, his most agonizing doubts. Come on. You’ll feel better once everything gets underway.” He threw an arm around my shoulders and we walked side by side into the living-room. “Ladies, gentlemen! The novice is ready for his examination. I am going to accompany him down to the basement where his master is waiting. I’ll call you in the order of the draw, so please be ready when your turn comes.”