Odessa Ranch 18
Too many changes too fast will cause any system to go out of equilibrium. Sam's playing with his situation, obviously his full right and privilege, was causing a strain. He had doctors and dentists on his payroll and used them regularly. He also had a couple of high-ranking cops on 'retainer,' just in case. The agreement was that Sam would be contacted if the police were coming or if a former slave was pissed off enough to ruin the situation for everyone else.
Mascot and Nod
Noah and Scott move the wooden crate from the back of Noah's SUV to his bedroom-he wants to show Scott his purchase outside the eyes of the other slaves. He opens the crate and pulls the chain that was hanging from a nail just inside the door. A tall, lanky boy stumbles out and stands up. He is nearly six feet tall and thin. It is obvious that the boy is muscled, but not broad muscles-they are more wiry. His long cock is uncut and ends a good two inches below his low hanging balls. His body is smooth, only the crotch has a small patch of black hair. He is attractive, but looks very serious, tapering jaw firm, lips making a straight line. His hair is black and fairly long, about half way down his neck, and unkempt. He stands at slave attention, with his eyes facing the floor, hands bound behind his otherwise upright body. He is also the source of a complex, animalistic smell that Scott cannot decipher.
Scott moves around to get a look at the slave's back. His back and ass are lightly scarred with fine welts; most are obviously fairly old, but a few of them are still somewhat freshly red. His ass is also branded, just on the upper hip on his right cheek. It just says 'slave;' it too is fairly old.
"What are these welts from, Noah?" Scott says, almost like he is looking at a used car.
"His masters used a cane on him sometimes, this one still has some spirit I'm told."
"How old is he?"
"As far as you and I know, he is 18."
"You mean he ain't. Damnit Noah."
"Wait a second Scott. First off, this isn't any worse than the kidnapping you are already down for if Rex gets away before he can be broken. This one is already broken as far as that goes."
"You said he still had spirit."
"Yes, but see, this is the only kind of life Mascot has known, he bucks sometimes like any strong animal, but he ain't going to run."
"What? He's always been a slave?"
"Yep, doesn't even have birth certificate. Or one that really belongs to him anyway. When I paid for him, they gave me a birth certificate for Stephen Matthew Burroughs who turned 18 last month."
"You're fucking kidding me!" Scott is by halves impressed and secretly horrified.
Mascot continues to stand unwavering uncannily still. The men discuss him and his situation as if he were not present.
"Look, Scott, I know where you're going and you should probably stop asking questions. You know I won't tell any lies if you ask, but if you want any level of deniability, you'll just keep in mind his name is Stephen Burroughs and he is 18 and leave it at that."
"Yeah, but as you said, I'm already in it deep since I did that shanghai to Rex that you talked me into." Scott's ire rises, but he keeps it in check, barely. The color brightens on cheek and neck. "Fuck, man. I need to take a walk."
"Whatever it takes, Scott." Noah says as Scott leaves the bedroom. Then to Mascot: "Let's get you introduced to your pigmates."
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In the area where northeast Washington, northern Idaho, and northwest Montana meet is not all that dissimilar from the wild west in that law is handled almost wholly locally. Unlike the wilder west, this strange corner of the country isn't lawless at all; they work with their own, typically strict, laws. Take for instance the white power encampments in and around Hayden Lakes, Idaho, or the Freeman in northwest Montana. They may thumb their noses at the laws of the nation, but they have very strict laws of their own.
Straddling the Kaniksu National Forest in Idaho and the Kootenai National Forest in Montana, in the triangle of road less territory bound by Bonner's Ferry and Naples, Idaho and Troy, Montana is an area the specific inhabitants call Nod (the few neighbors near that territory only know that the inhabitants are part of an extremely tight and secretive religious sect).
Nod was started about a hundred and fifty years ago just as that territory was opening up. The faithful used a form of hedonism to worship, but it was a sort of schizoid hedonism. Imagine sadism and masochism and sex in general used with the same ritualistic attitude as a Catholic mass, the oxymoron of a joyless hedonism. Their general belief was that after Cain received his mark and went east of Eden, he became super repentant-he would engage in hedonistic and otherwise 'sinful' behavior, and meditate on repentance while in the act, and doubly repent after. It was their belief that Cain's followers survived the flood because of the sincerity of the proponent's beliefs and actions.
Given how their beliefs were often handled historically, they tended to keep to themselves, since any of their proselytizers were at very least run out of any town or village, or more commonly outright executed as heretics. Theirs was a faith that tends to shy away from martyrdom.
The group in Montana numbered about three hundred when they moved to the territory, and now numbers about six hundred. Mindful of the dangers of inbreeding, the society would send a few young men out to find 'mates' to bring back-marriage wasn't something they performed, all men and women fucked freely, and children were communally raised.
In the 1920's the states started raising the taxes on the land. They had always been nearly self-sufficient and rarely had to use any of the services or store in the nearby towns, but never had predictable cash. So they had to find a way to make the money necessary to keep the states from nosing any further into their lives. So they turned to the Bible and found what they needed-they used the story of Sara's handmaid giving her son for Abraham and Sara to raise. They sold two infants to two different childless couples. That gave them enough money to pay taxes for a couple of years.
The original goal was to do that only just enough to take care of the tax situation. And this lasted through the late thirties. Two events occurred that put pressure on the group to expand their activities or disband. The triad of elders that instituted the policy died and some more aggressive elders took over. That might have led to a slight increase in the activity, but the second pressure made it imperative that the baby sale go into higher gear-the draft for the Second World War. The draft would have meant their end because it would mean all would have to register for all the standard civil responsibilities (for instance, social security, the birth certificate problem-as none in Nod had them). It would have meant that the society would be more exposed to all of the laws in the country, meaning the end of the society and jail for many.
But to make that sort of change work, the elders had to create a certain type of slavery for about a third of the group-to be chosen by lot. They had all of the standard rights and privileges of everyone except on one area: reproduction. They would be required to breed, but their offspring would be sold.
From that foundation, it was only a twenty-year span, another change in elders, and one more biblical reference (Genesis 9:25) for them to start offering young girls and boys as slaves to the outside world.
Mascot's parents were what the group called high rank slaves-the ones with full rights but reproduction. Once a high rank slavewoman became pregnant, a die was cast. If the number was one, the child would become a high rank slave and stay in the territory; 2-5 the baby was sold to baby brokers; a six meant the child would be kept as low slave and sold when a buyer was found. Infants to be sold were not given names; infants bound to slavery were given pet type names to separate them further from their free 'fellows,' and high ranks that all had biblical names.
Keeping with the tradition, Mascot did not know, and would never discover, who his parents were. (This might sound stupid. He would look like either or both parents, so he would be able to figure out at least one parent. This would be true if low slaves were given any access to mirrors-of which there were very few to begin with. The society would know which high slaves bred to make Mascot, but he would never know.) He was raised by the master who was responsible for teaching his wards to read, write, and do very simple math and for making sure that all of the menial tasks were taken care of. The low slaves were not 'owned' by anyone in the group, so they had to report and respond to all free folk and high slaves alike the same way.
The low slaves were not given any clothing except in winter, and they all had to share pants and jackets when their duties required they be outside. They performed any duty asked, from the domestic to the sexual. A no or a hesitation from the slave was handled in a very public manner with whippings and other punishments. In fact, all but the simplest of punishments for spurring a slave to go faster were handled alike in the public and formal manner.
Typically they were not offered up for sale until they turned 5. At any time, there were as many as 40 low slaves in the territory. On the occasion that a low slave hit puberty, they would begin breeding. A low girl bred with a low boy would always create a low slave. The child born of a low girl or boy bred with a high rank (or on rare occasions a totally free folk) would go through the same die cast decision-making process. Before a buyer was found for Mascot, he had been bred with two low slaves and two high ranks.
One day he was called into the Elder's Cabin (off-limits to low slaves unless they are being sold). Without word or ceremony, the elders put a collar on his neck and tied his hands behind him. He saw Noah and how strangely he was dressed, all delicate fabrics (jeans and a t-shirt actually).
"Is this slave to your liking as was explained?"
"Mind if I take a closer look, a full inspection?" Noah asks.
"By all means."
He stood as he was trained until Noah gave him commands. He opened his mouth when the man ordered, bent over, knelt and tasted the man's cock (perfumed and salty in a way totally new to him).
"This slave is to my liking."
"Excellent, I have a couple of documents to get you while the slave is crated."
An elder attached a short chain to his collar and led him into another room. There he saw a plain wooden box. The two elders lifted him and placed him in it and helped position him. Then they said the only words any elder ever said to him: "Be blessed slave, be repentant, and do always as your master commands."
"Yes Elder Sir."
Then the top was nailed quickly onto the crate.
He had time to think and pray as he was taught while being taken to his new home:
Now I leave. I am scared. Masterteacher said this is the way, but I don't want to go. I know I have to, but I don't want to. I will do what he taught me to do. I will serve with an open heart as much as I can. I will take my punishment with the only pride a slave is given.
Then he slept through the majority of the trip.
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Mascot is led through a huge house with stairs and things he has never seen nor heard of-his teacher told all the slaves that the outside world was strange, but that it was their duty and responsibility to adapt to it and suffer it. It is warm outside and chilly in the house, goose pimples appear on his chest, arms, and thighs. The journey ends in a room that smells of shit and piss and has two empty, squat cages side by side and one stand up cage in it. His master locks the chain to one of the cages.
"I'll be back in a couple of minutes with your mates."
"Yessir," he says meekly.
Noah goes to the building site and calls Hayden aside.
"'Sup Noah?"
"I got the slave I told you about. I'm going to introduce him to these two and let him fuck one of them." "Sure guy. Where is the new one?"
"I put him in the dungeon, he's chained to Rex's cage for now."
Hayden turns and yells, "Double time it turds to the dungeon, NOW."
A distant "yes Taskmaster" from the two slaves as they drop their tools and run to the dungeon.
Crete and Rex stand at the doorway to their home and see the new one chained to a cage. The boy looks up shyly at both of the sweaty and grimy men. He kneels with his large cock hanging freely, but shakes his head so that his black hair covers his eyes. He blushes slightly. Noah and Hayden arrive in a moment.
"Crete, Rex, this slave is called Mascot. Mascot, the one on the left is Crete, the one on the right is Rex."
"Hi bro," Crete says trying to sound welcoming.
"Hello," Mascot almost whispers.
"Mascot had a pretty long ride getting here and I want him to feel welcomed. Mascot, pick one of these slaves to fuck."
"Fuck sir?" Mascot asks Noah, a confused look on his face.
"Oh that's right. What do you call that?" Noah asks pointing at Mascot's cock (Crete and Rex give each other sideways looks of concern).
"Pecker sir."
"What do you call it when you put your pecker in another person?"
"Breeding sir."
"We'll teach you some new words later. For now, pick one of these slaves to breed."
In Mascot's world, there was no straight or gay. Sex was sex. All desire was to be acted upon and repented. The low slaves were usually the objects of the action, but not always, and Mascot fucked males and females, and was fucked by males. They were to repent their orgasms too, but not nearly to the extent that the general community did-the elders received a couple of complaints from early slave buyers that when the slave came, they said a strange prayer that was disturbing to the owner, so they stopped teaching the slaves the specifics and mechanics of the atonement. Mascot was well practiced and experienced in sex, but had completely different words for it. So he looks at the two men, one a bit taller than the other, otherwise both about the same. Mascot doesn't know if there is a right or wrong choice.
"May I smell them 'fore I pick sir?"
"Sure, whatever you want." Noah says laughing a little as he unhooks the chain from Mascot's collar.
Mascot travels the short distance to Crete and Rex on his knees. He picks Crete first. He sniffs Crete's crotch and moves around and sniffs his ass crack. All eyes are on him as he does this, both men and both slaves mystified by what they witness. Then Mascot moves to Rex. He sniffs Rex's sac, then his hole. Rex's smell is more musky and makes his pecker twitch.
"This one sir." He is still timid with his words.
"Ok, breed." Noah says. He motions for Crete to kneel in a corner and motions for Hayden to come closer so they can chat while they watch.
Mascot continues to kneel behind a standing Rex. He strokes his limp cock a couple of times until it becomes stiff. His cock is 9" long and thicker than it seemed it would be when Noah inspected him. Then he grabs Rex's cock and pulls him back and then into a kneeling position. Then he uses a his free hand to push Rex's back so that Rex gets on his hands and knees. He hocks loudly and spits onto Rex's hole, then works some of the spit into the hole. He then spits on his own cock, rubs it to cover the head and part of the shaft. He sticks the cockhead in gently enough, but once the head is past the anal lip, he rams the rest of his nine inches all the way in.
Rex's head jerks up and he growls deeply. He wants to scream but fears the consequences too much to do it, so he pants. Mascot's moves are fast, like he skips the initial slower, feel-your-way strokes entirely and goes all out from the get ready.
"Man, this is fucked up. Is it a 'tard or something?" Hayden whispers.
"Long story, I'll give you the whole story before I turn him over to you. No he isn't retarded. He probably has about a third grade education."
"How old is it?"
"To you of all people this shouldn't matter, but as far as we are all concerned, he is 18."
"Man though, look at the way it shoves its . . . pecker in Rex. Look at that slave fucking squirm. This new one definitely knows how to drive ass."
"I'll go over it after Scott gets back, there's tons you need to know, and it means you will have to tone down the way you work."
"Huh? You said from the very first that I would be able to do anything I wanted just about." Hayden's whisper is clipped and louder than it should be.
"Calm down sport. You'll get to do that, but there are special circumstances with this one that you will work around."
"Fine." Hayden says and crosses his arms. His time in the Costa Rican purgatory meant that he is maturity was affected to the point that he was still about 13 in some ways.
Mascot begins to grunt as he bucks. Rex's semi-soft cock is dribbling on the concrete-with each in-thrust a small spurt of precum drips on the floor. When he started, Mascot used his hips to thrust and pulled and pushed Rex's ass in combination, now that he is close to cumming, he focuses entirely on his own hip action. The pitch rises in his grunting and suddenly he pulls his cock out. He finishes by squirting a hose worth of cum, the initial cum shots went past Rex's head and hit the floor a couple of feet further still.
It takes only a short moment for Mascot to control his breathing and say, "Thank you sir." He assumes the kneeling at-ease pose he was taught (for him and his fellows position 4). At the same time that he has his breathing regulated, Rex is still panting and sweating, a little blood drips from his hole.
"A'ite Rex, clean up the slavejizz from the floor and Mascot's cock."
"Sir yes sir." He crawls through tense muscles and licks up the thick and vaguely sweet cum. Then he turns and crawls to Mascot. Using only his mouth and tongue, he slurps the still almost fully hard cock into his mouth. Mascot jumps when the lips hit his sensitive head inside its hood, but relaxes into the warm tongue bath; the post-coital tongue bath is new to him.
"Crete, Rex back to the site." Noah barks. Then to Hayden: "I'll go over everything with you after dinner."
Then it is just Noah and Mascot. Noah realizes this is the first he's been alone with his new purchase-outside the box anyway.
"I have to ask. How old are you?" Noah stays leaning against Rex's cage, where he stood for the breeding, Mascot kneels exactly as he has since he came.
"18 sir."
"Well at least I know that that part of their training worked. But forget that for just this once, how old are you?"
"I don't know sir."
"Really?"
"Nobody told me sir."
"Ok. Well, come on, I need to get you bathed, you have a stink I can't put a finger on-and really don't want to."
"Yessir." With hands still held behind his back, he rises from knees to feet in a smooth, balanced motion. He follows Noah inside the chilly house.
He walks past the crate he came in and into the bathroom following Noah. He stands at the door while Noah begins to run a bath. Mascot yelps and puts his hands to his ears. Noah puzzles for a beat, then turns the water off. Mascot timidly puts his hands back behind his back.
"Scare you?"
"No sir, hurts sir, loud sir."
"Ok, stand next to the crate in there, I'll call you back in here in a minute."
"Yessir."
Fuck, Noah thinks to himself. I knew it would take some time to get the kid used to his new environment, but I didn't think that something as simple as running water would be that loud. Then he looks around at all the tile.
"Oh," he says aloud. Then thinking, sure, this is just an echo chamber that he would never have known. Come to think of it, he probably has never had a bath like this. Damn it's like having a baby. I have no idea how hot to make this now. I guess I'll run it colder than normal.
He fills the whirlpool tub only halfway. His logic is that he will have Mascot cover his ears as he gets the temperature right.
"C'mon back in." A quiet, yessir, follows. He steps back in and stands at the door as before.
"No, come over here." Again, a yessir, then he moves and stands next to the tub.
"Have you ever been a bathtub?"
"No sir, slaves wash in a creek sir."
"My slaves don't get many of these, so don't get used to it, but let's get you in here and that stink off of you."
"Yessir." He steps up on the bath ledge and steps in. Mascot expects cold water and his foot jerks out when he notices it isn't.
"Too hot?"
"Um, no sir. It's warm sir, just surprised sir."
"Get in and have a seat. I can make it warmer if you want."
If you want. This is a phrase Mascot has heard other people say around him but never to him. It makes no sense. He sits and the warm water relaxes his muscles. He smiles and sighs.
"Cover your ears, I'm going to run some more hot water in here, let me know when it gets too hot."
"Yessir." Then the water starts again. His hands can barely keep out the percussion from feeling like his eardrums are being torn apart. After fifteen seconds or so he says, "Too hot sir." Noah cuts the hot and runs in just a little cold.
Noah hands Mascot a washcloth. Mascot dips the cloth in the water and begins to 'wash.' "Wait, here." He takes the cloth from Mascot, grabs the soap and lathers it for him with soap. "Now do it."
"Yes sir." The smell bites his nose. It is so strong, the smell coats his tongue like Noah's cock did when he tasted it. He washes what he can, then stops.
Noah takes the cloth and scrubs Mascot's back. He sees that the water and the washcloth are noticeably grimy. It didn't appear on sight that the kid was that dirty. The grime must have been the same tan color of his skin, Noah thinks.
"Going to have to drain this and start over."
"Yessir." Mascot says grimly. He suffers the sound again as the tub fills. His masterteacher told them all that the outside world was very different from the world they knew, but he never got specific. He never told them that the outside was made of strong smells and very loud noises. He suddenly realizes that there must be so much more that masterteacher didn't prepare them for. The fear makes him tear up. Noah sees this and stops the water again.
"Still too loud?" Noah of course had seen slaves cry, and caused it often enough himself, but this was different. There is no intention of anything close to it. So this is disturbing.
"No sir. I'm scared sir." He stops the tears and slides back into the water, pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around them.
"I won't lie to you. Your life here will be different, but you don't have to be scared. I'm not just going to throw you out with Crete and Rex and expect you to do what they do. The taskmaster you saw will take care of your training. I just wanted you to see the others."
"Yessir." No tears now, but the statement lacked the conviction Noah wanted to hear.
Washing Mascot's hair just underscores how much he, Noah, and Hayden were going to have to learn. He refuses to lie all the way back in the water; the fear is just too strong. He had never been swimming, and never had a bath, so he fears the water the way animals can. Noah goes to the kitchen and grabs a big enough cup. He returns and uses it to rinse the frightened kid's hair.
Mascot dries off and stands at attention (position one for him) waiting. He is curious though. He said no when Noah told him he needed to lay back to rinse his hair-Noah had said nothing, only paused for a second before saying he would be back. He knows there is a whipping, but he has no idea how it will happen. And everyone he has seen here is so much larger than the punishment-master, whose own lashings were almost more than Mascot could take. So he says:
"May I ask a question sir?"
"Ok."
"When will I be punished?"
"Well, the taskmaster or Master Scott or I will decide that when something happens."
"No sir, I meant for just now, when I said no sir."
"What? Oh, you won't be getting away with that any more, but today is not a usual day for you, so you won't get in trouble for that."
"Yessir."
Everyone Learns
"You're going to let that hell'yun loose with the kid?" Scott says, scoffing. He listened over dinner to Noah's story about Mascot's bath.
"Not loose exactly. But let's face it, Hayden's cool to watch, but if I let him continue to do what he's doing, Rex is going to lose it. I don't want any of these slaves to go rogue on us. I think that working with Mascot will tame some of Hayden's monsters."
"What if it is just the opposite? What if having to be nice to Mascot, he takes out even more anger on the others?"
"Scott, you're going to have to trust me. After dinner I'm going to talk with Hayden and explain the whole thing to him. He will be training Mascot at the site too, so we will be able to keep an eye on him."
"What the hell is going to happen if you question Hayden on the way he is treating Mascot while the other two watch."
"Give me a little credit you fuck. I'm not going to explain the whole thing to you now. If you want, come along as I give Hayden the lowdown, then I think you'll understand what I'm getting at."
All three men meet in the suite Noah had given Hayden.
"So I'm going to have to change the way I do everything?" Hayden asks.
"No. You have the whole thing turned up to 11. With this one I want you to start at, say 7 and then ramp up to your normal routine." Then: "I think you have gotten so good at what you do, that you are now only focused on the edge you have-the very sharp and quick edge you have. What I want you to do is tone down that edge when you work with Mascot. He's strong and seems to have a quick enough mind, but he's also never seen a television or a car. I want him broken but not crazy."
"It would fuck up the control over the other two." Hayden says smugly.
This is all Noah could ask for: "So you're telling me that you wouldn't be able to do both? You couldn't raise Mascot to the level needed from a slave here while also controlling two experienced pigs? C'mon, you can use your sadistic mind to find all sorts of way of explaining to all three that 'fair' is a word as forbidden for a slave as no."
Hayden feels a little cornered. He 'knows' that Noah is right, but his pride is resisting backing down. A thought occurs to him.
"I'll do it, but I want to train Rex in shit detail."
"I told you he would get rougher on Rex if you did that." Scott says, jumping up.
"Scott, sit!" Noah says. Scott sits slowly. Noah considers both men. Each have their hackles up; Noah tries to smooth them. "Scott, you agreed at the beginning that all slaves would be ultimately treated the same, right?"
"Yes." Scott stares at Hayden who stares back.
"Goddamnit. This is not a turf war you two. Hayden, you are not in a position to bargain, we agreed to that too, right?" Hayden nods. "Fine. Now it is time that Rex start the training. It is the only thing that is separating the two now. Scott, I know from watching him that Rex is scared shitless about it-kidding aside. It will remove a huge load of stress on the pig if we go ahead and start it."
Hayden smiles, almost like gloating.
Scott sees this and reacts: "Fine, fine. What about the new one Noah. The way you talked at dinner, you're in love with him, you going to spare him from . . ."
"Whoa. Look, I don't have to justify what I do. Do either of you own any of this land or anything else for that matter? But since you've opened that door . . . I really had no idea what not having any contact at all with a modern world would mean. And that's why I want Hayden to go easier on him starting out. I paid money for him and I don't want the money thrown away because Hayden makes him go rogue. Make sense? Would you spend fifteen k on a car just to run it in the ground?"
"You spent fifteen thousand dollars on that?" Hayden is horrified.
"Yes, and it is up to you to make sure I get more than that from him." Then thinking: I wonder what Hayden would say if he knew that fifteen k was just a fraction of what I paid for Crete?
"Now, Scott, it was time for you to take over some of the supervision of the other two anyway since it is time for the actual construction on the house to start. So you will pick start with them tomorrow. Hayden, you get Mascot and start with him." Noah says, then gets up, ready to go.
"Wait a second." Hayden says, in a strange tone for him-soft. "I don't know where to start."
Noah sits again. "Ok, hum." He pauses to consider the best approach. "Talk with him first to find out what he already knows. Compare that to what you know is expected here and begin working on a way to bridge the gap. I know you can do that well enough on your own, but if you need help, ask. Don't withhold the lash, just swing at about three-quarters to start with and ramp up from there. Also, I don't want you putting him in a no-win situation just to whip him just yet; I want to see how he reacts to the lash first before letting you use that technique. Other than that, use him how you want." Standing again: "Are we all on the same page?"
The two nod. They both seem to accept the explanation and everyone leaves pretty much at peace.
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Taskmaster feeds all three of us outside the cages for a change. Mascot looks at the mush not sure what to do. Then he sees us dig in like dogs and apes us.
Crete and I finish in the usual five minutes or whatever we are limited to, Mascot doesn't. Taskmaster just uses his boots, one to kick the bowl from the slave, the other on the slave's shoulder to nudge him to get back in position. Rex or me would take at least one swipe with one of his whips. It's hard enough to stay even a little sane here, but with the new one being treated so good . . . .
"Ok, three pigs, two cages." Taskmaster says. "Since the new one has already fucked Rex, some love might be in the air so I think y'all will share tonight."
Two hell, put him in the stand up cage. But since I don't want to be beaten AND have to share my cage I say, "Yes taskmaster." Mascot says, yessir.
"Ok new pig, I'm not a sir, I'm a taskmaster, so that's what you say to me, got it?"
"Yes taskmaster."
Holy shit. I would be wearing half a dozen new red stripes on my ass if I did that, but he gets nothing at all. This fucker got a chance to rip me open with his cock and now doesn't get any beating from a bastard who could bring a SEAL to his knees. And now I have to share my little space with him. At least he doesn't stink like he did when he fucked me.
"In the cages." We scuttle in and Taskmaster clicks the two locks and leaves.
"Have you always been a slave?" Crete asks, his tone is sympathetic, as if it were possible in this day to be like that.
"Yes."
"What? You've always been a slave? Bullshit." I say.
"I was born a low slave and served the village with the other low slaves."
"Whatever." This is impossible. This I smell a fart. "Dammit Crete."
"Wasn't me dude."
Not only is this kid a kid, he's totally delusional and is going to torment us with his ass stink.
"How long are we going to be in this box?" Mascot asks.
"Til morning." I say trying to find a place to sleep that would have me touch as little of him as possible.
"I never slept in a box like this. What happens if I have to make?"
"Make what?"
"Water or dung." He says sheepishly.
"Oh god no. You aren't going to make anything in here."
"I'll try. But I'm having tummy cramps." He says and I smell another fart.
"Do whatever you can guy, we're stuck in here until morning and if you fill it with your shit smell, we ain't in a position to get away from it."
"Calm down Rex. I don't think he is kidding about anything. He seems too sincere to be lying like that."
"Crete, I still ain't sure you are telling the truth about where you came from, and his story seems even farther fetched. I just want to try to get some sleep." I close my eyes just as I hear Mascot groan and the smell of what I hope is just another fart. It isn't.
"I'm sorry." He starts crying, a pile of mostly soft, green shit is in the corner of the cage, just below his ass. The smell is very sour and acidic. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Hey, hey, calm down. I know you couldn't help that. Fuckers probably put something in your food. Come over here, lay here and just try to go to sleep." I help him maneuver so that he is lying on my stomach with his ass pointed towards the mess he's already made.
"I'm sorry." He says again still crying.
"It sucks, I know, but just calm down and try to go to sleep."
"I want to know about where you came from." Crete says.
"Crete, I want to sleep, just shut the fuck up so we can all get some fucking shuteye."
"Rex, man, I think it'll calm him down to tell us some stuff. If you didn't sleep in a cage, where did you sleep?"
"We slept in a barn."
"You could go outside to make?" Crete says in a soft, quiet way-the way my old therapist used to use.
"No, we used straw in a corner and cleaned it out every couple of days. It didn't stink in there like it does here. It was quieter than it is here."
"Yes I guess it would be quieter if you didn't have to sleep in a concrete room. When did you get the brand on your ass?"
"The what?" He is actually calming down some. Crete knows too much about this sort of thing, too bad what he knows won't get that pile of kid shit out of here.
"You have a brand on your ass that says slave."
"Oh, my mark. I got it a few winters before I got hair on my pecker. All low slaves get marked when they are that size."
"How did it happen?" Fuck. Crete is asking how this kid got branded, and this is supposed to calm him enough to sleep?
"They put the slave on a altar and tie hands and feet so they can't wiggle. The elder takes the hot stick out of the fire and puts it on the slave's ass. Everybody watches and they all clap when the slave stands up, marked the way they are supposed to be." He cramps again and has to move to add some more of his stink to the pile. "I'm sorry."
"That's ok kid. Let's all just try to get some sleep."
"Yes."
As usual, Crete is asleep like he can just flip a switch. Mascot squirms a little but is also quickly asleep. I keep thinking. Altar, elder, the language this kid uses. This is a fucked up world. Crete picked his bondage and there was a place for him to get it. This kid has always been a slave and there is a whole village with rituals and whatnot for it. I wanted to fuck a cute guy who looked like a healthy construction worker, then go back home. Instead I get drugged and wind up here whipped every day, surrounded by the stink of myself and now two other guys. No one says the world is fair, but this is not fucking fair.
[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []
"Holy fuck, Crete your stink is unbelievable." Hayden says when he comes to the dungeon to wake and feed the slaves.
"Yes taskmaster, it isn't from me taskmaster."
"Mascot?"
"Yes, taskmaster, I'm sorry."
"Whatever pig. I guess the slavechow is just too rich for it. Who'd have guessed this slop would be too rich for anything?"
"Yes taskmaster." Mascot says.
He lets them out and they begin eating from the bowls set before them. Hayden keeps his shirt up to his nose. He had thought about taking Mascot outside and beginning his training, but reconsiders now that he is reeling from the stink. He will keep Mascot in the dungeon and start its training here-away from Noah's eyes for at least a little while, so he can establish the level of fear he wants from the slave. When they finish-Mascot finishes within the limit this time-Hayden orders Crete and Rex to the site.
"I think the first thing I have to do is teach it what we call everything."
"Yes taskmaster."
"This," Hayden says lifting Mascot's limp shaft slightly with his crop, "is a cock. Say it."
"Cock taskmaster,"
"What did it call these?" Hayden asks flicking the kneeling slave's sac.
"Eggs taskmaster."
"They are balls, slave. Say it."
"Balls taskmaster." This calms Mascot a little. This is learning, and he always did well at learning.
"What does it call that?" Hayden points at the pile of shit.
"Dung taskmaster."
"Dung, huh? Actually I like that, keep calling it dung." Then thinking: I don't know why I didn't think of that. Since slaves are just pack animals anyway, might as well call their shit dung. This will further separate them from men.
"I'm about to choke to death because of that pile of dung. Scoop it up with its hands and take it where I say."
Mascot moves to the large pile of green-brown shit and scoops what he can: "I can't get it all taskmaster."
"I know that turd. It'll just have to make as many trips as it takes."
Mascot scoops up about half of the pile-he continued to shit periodically through the night, so there was a lot of it. He has to crawl slowly out of the cage so he doesn't drop any.
This is a peculiar aspect of the difference between slaves like Mascot and Rex. Mascot considers the possible repercussions of dropping some of his shit as he does his ordered task; his mind is always on how the task is to be done precisely, and the ideas of logic or rationale never enter the picture. This is what masters refer to when they say that a slave is broken-they no longer question the commands; no longer parse them for sense. Rex would not consider dropping any of the shit a mistake. For him, he'd already shit on the floor because they made it impossible to do otherwise, so if more shit dropped on the floor, what difference would it make? The punishment for both would be similar if not the same. Mascot would take his licks understanding they were because of an error, it makes no difference what the error was or its relative severity-another hallmark of being broken. Rex would puzzle over the reasoning behind the punishment and its severity; it would make as little sense to him as why it is an error to drop shit on an already soiled floor.
Mascot takes his dung for a long walk. Hayden stands off about a crop length from Mascot's ass-standard taskmaster distance for obvious reasons. He pops Mascot's ass a couple of times on the trek.
The swats have specific, but multiple reasons-Hayden can explain none of the reasons, but his subconscious understands them. Hayden wants the slave to keep at a decent pace, a cliché of the master/slave relationship of course. But he also wants to see if the slave reacts in a punishable way, or if the slave's concentration breaks, which would have the same general consequences. Neither Hayden nor Mascot have any idea why, for them the mechanism works the way it's supposed to on its own. It works because it functions on the most basic psychological level. It is the controlled and the controller. The controller never feels he has enough control, that what he is supposed to command will in some way raise up and stop following orders-this works for slaves, kids, even cars and the like if you get right down to it. But especially when it comes to trying to control another human, the controller will never feel totally in command. So they often invent silly things to torment the controlled with in order to continually assert their command.
Take the shit rituals for instance; why is it so important for Hayden to do what he does with it? It is one thing for a man to be raped. If a cock is forced up a slave's ass, it isn't his choice. When it comes to contact with shit, it is a bit different. Yes, the slave can still say he had no choice, but it is far more humiliating because carrying, wearing, or eating shit are all active tasks, being raped is passive. Hayden knows it is humiliating, and it makes his cock super hard and his orgasms that much stronger, but he has no idea how effective that activity is for truly breaking a slave.
They walk through a couple of copses of trees before Hayden decides they've gone far enough. He orders Mascot to drop his load at the base of a tree and they head back. He whips Mascot to a light jog. When they get near the building site, Noah sees them and calls Hayden aside.
"Go pick up another load and wait for me by the door." He says to Mascot.
"What are you doing?" Noah asks. "Just want to know what your plan is."
"It took a massive dump in there last night and it stinks like nothing Crete could do. So I'm having it clean it up."
"Ok, that's cool." Noah says and turns his attentions back to the other slaves and Scott, who is showing them the way they need to put the frame together.
Noah is one who understands on a conscious level how and why the relationship works the way it does. He knows that for Hayden, it keeps him hard and squirting, and that is all that is important. Noah knows that this is what fuels his natural abilities-Noah believes that Hayden would have been a mild sadist normally, that the Costa Rican experience just enhanced and enlarged what was nascent anyway. Noah also knows that the source of the natural talent is also the source of the greatest risk. Left unchecked, his sadism and desire for control would probably end in serious injury and death; this is the reasoning behind his tasking Hayden with Mascot's training. Noah was training the trainer by keeping an eye on him, but also by trying to force Hayden to think about his actions in the only that Hayden would consent to: under the radar.
On the way to the dumpsite the second time, Mascot has to piss. So he just pisses as he walks, as he would back home-if the low slaves were outside, they behaved much like the livestock; this was only slightly less true with shit (that was a bit more location specific).
"What the fuck? What is it doing?" Hayden says, he also stops and Mascot continues a few steps before noticing that his taskmaster stopped.
"Yes taskmaster?" "The fuck? It's just pissing without asking me if it can?"
"Pissing taskmaster?"
"Motherfucker. That stuff running out of its cock, what does it call that?"
"Water taskmaster."
"It's piss, say it."
"Piss taskmaster."
"If it has to make piss or dung, it asks for permission, understood turd?"
"Yes taskmaster."
They continue to the dumpsite. It takes three trips to get the shit transferred. Hayden grabbed a garden spade from the site on the last trip out. Mascot dumps the last of the dung onto the pile.
"Wipe its hands on its chest." Hayden commands, the slave complies. "Now take this and dig a hole to put its dung in. I'll tell it when it has dug enough."
"Yes taskmaster."
Hayden leans against a nearby tree and plans out how he's going to have Mascot clean as much of the remaining stink as possible, and on how he is going to begin Rex's training. After a couple of minutes, the hole is acceptable and Hayden orders Mascot to move the pile and bury it.
"Don't want its fucking slavedung stinking up the property now do we?"
"No taskmaster."
"Now it needs to pay for the piss incident. Wrap its arms around this tree and hold its hands together. If it slips at all, I start the count over."
"Yes taskmaster."
Hayden always carries three implements with him: a crop he keeps in his boot, a flogger and a strop he keeps in his belt. He thinks a strop will be a good introduction for this slave to Hayden's style. He positions himself and takes a wide swing at Mascot's ass. The strike makes Mascot grab the tree harder and whimper lightly.
"Can it count?" Then after Mascot says he can: "I want it to count the lashes."
Hayden swings again; Mascot says, "Two taskmaster," through clinched teeth.
"No. Since it didn't count the first one, it has to start over again at one." Then he swings again. Mascot starts counting at one. At swipe 6, Mascot's hands, which still had some slick dung on them, slipped.
"Well now I have to start again."
Mascot takes his place and starts to cry. "Please taskmaster, please no more taskmaster." It isn't just that the pain is more than he is used to-the switch they used on him stung, but not at all like what he is getting now-but there is no spirit in the beating. Mascot is used to an audience of his fellow slaves. Their public punishments were intended to make all slaves suffer at least a little when one of them erred-those not directly involved still had to watch. What the punishers couldn't understand is that the punished got a sense of support from their fellows who watched. Now, Mascot was being punished where no one could see, no one could offer their silent support.
Hayden's cock goes diamond hard. He has to take a breath. He wants to lie into the slave far harder now than he was-he was doing all he could to swing at three-quarters as Noah wanted.
"Can't do that, hug the tree and start counting at one." He says this calmly, but inside he is sneering with prurient force.
Mascot hugs the tree and tries to stifle his tears. He has to pause for a couple of beats to count the lash. Hayden shows another bit of control where he wouldn't have without Noah's proscription; he doesn't start again telling the slave that it was taking too long between lashes, to try to lessen the effect. Instead, he lets the slave pause as much as it takes, but Hayden also knows that the slave is trying, in a way that at least Rex would not, to be quick about it. For the last 10 lashes, about a minute and a half passes. Mascot stumbles a bit on wobbly legs as they head back to the house.
Rather than go back to the dungeon directly, Hayden takes Mascot to Noah.
Turning Mascot so Noah could see the slave's ass, Hayden asks, "Is this ok?"
"Sure is red, but doesn't look like it will blister that bad. What did you do to deserve this?" Noah asks. He is ready to make a couple of quick changes if he hears the slave say 'nothing' or 'I don't know.'
"Made piss without asking first sir." Mascot says meekly.
"Wherever you got it from, they just piss like horses or some shit." Hayden says, laughing. "So I'm having to potty train it too."
"Whatever it takes to get him on the same level as these two." Noah chuckles a little too. He knew when he saw the portion of the village that he was allowed to see, that Mascot would present a few challenges, but it is almost impossible to imagine what life is like without the rules and objects that have always been in your life.
Hayden and Mascot head into the dungeon to finish the cleaning.
The dungeon is basically an unfinished basement attached to the house rather than underneath it. It is concrete and cinder block. Besides the three cages, there are various hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling and a couple of chains hanging at different heights along one wall. There is a rack, and two crosses: standard and St. Andrews. One wall has some restraints and punishment implements hanging from a pegboard. On the common wall with the house's mudroom is an industrial sink and a toilet-the toilet specifically, but both fixtures actually, are a form of psychological torture for slaves not allowed to use them (the toilet is one that would be familiar to any live-in slave, the seat is removed, so that there is only a rim to sit on-but this toilet is even more of a joke if you get right down to it, it isn't hooked to anything).
Hayden orders Mascot to fill a bucket with hot water; he has to show Mascot how to do it. Then he goes into the house to get bleach. Mascot keeps his ears covered until he has to turn the water off. Hayden comes back with bleach and a scrub brush. He adds the bleach and orders Mascot to start scrubbing from his dung spot.
"May I make dung taskmaster?" He says before beginning.
"Denied."
"Yes taskmaster." And he starts scrubbing the floor.
Hayden sits on the tank of the toilet, keeping his feet on the rim. He knows from experience that Mascot couldn't help shitting the night before, but he has a plan. If the slave can't hold it, he beats this slave; if he can, then he has what he sees as the best way to start Rex on his new training. Either way, Hayden wins.
Mascot is actually quick about it, and it doesn't take long for him to finish the task. Hayden has the slave fill the bucket several times and throwing it around the floor to rinse it. Hayden then opens the two blacked out windows and the door to let the room air out. They finish that portion just as lunch is ready. Mascot eats hurriedly along with his brethren.
Now it is time for Hayden to see how good Mascot's stamina is and how the slave reacts to make-work. Noah bought many things in bulk beyond what would be needed for Scott's house because he planned to have more than just his and Scott's house as part of the compound, so there are dozens of bags of sand and concrete.
"Slave, grab a bag."
Mascot lifts a 50-pound bag of sand and puts it on one shoulder. He stands waiting for instructions. Hayden leans against a nearby tree and watches; a couple of minutes pass and the slave wobbles only slightly. Mascot's muscles show themselves, they're not huge, but they enhance his look greatly when exposed.
"Come this way." Hayden leads the slave about a hundred yards from the site. "Place the bag here, then run back and get another."
Mascot jogs off to get another bag of sand. Hayden walks about half way back and follows the laden slave to the placement site. He instructs Mascot on how to place the sack and sends him back. Hayden watches to see how the slave handles the situation. Will he run back fast and walk as quickly as possible to get to the new site, if so he will probably not last long; will he anticipate what is happening and adjust his gate accordingly to accommodate the task?
Oddly enough the first option would be the least slave-like. The first option would leave the slave spent long before the task is completed. It is true that the behavior might impress a master, but not for long. The second option shows that the 'person' is thinking like a slave. It shows that they are going to try to move at the pace that will not get them beaten, beaten either during the task or later when they didn't have enough energy to finish. A real slave will know that if the master has it in mind to punish the slave, there isn't anything they can do about it, but the slave will go about the task in the best way possible to avoid, or mitigate, a beating.
Mascot's pace to get the sand is consistent, his pace back is consistent. It is obvious that the slave understands at least part of the situation. Hayden whacks the slave's ass a few times on different treks, mainly just to do it, but also to gauge his reaction-his reaction is a temporary increase in speed, as it should be for a well-trained slave.
Once about 30 bags are stacked, Mascot asks for permission to piss.
"I'll let it piss when it finishes stacking these sacks. They're not stacked right." He follows this revelation with several whacks across Mascot's shoulders with a crop.
"Sorry taskmaster."
Hayden explains how he wants the pile shifted. Mascot goes about his task as blandly as he had from the beginning. He makes no comment, no sigh, no facial or body expression that would indicate he was in any way upset. He finishes and stands waiting for his next instruction. Mascot expects nothing. If ordered to restack, he would restack; if ordered to move it back, he would move it back. His only concern is that he has to piss. He waits for a little while and finally has to ask again.
"May I make piss taskmaster?"
"Come here and kneel." Mascot complies quickly. "Anybody back where it comes from ever make it drink piss?"
"No taskmaster." He shows no affect. Low slaves are not taught the standard fear of waste that goes along with potty training and general cleanliness. It isn't something he would have tasted on his own, but there is no fear associated with the question and what it means.
"K. Well here, slaves drink piss. So open up and swallow all you can. Don't worry yet about spilling any, but don't choke-if it chokes, it gets 10 more lashes, got it slave?"
"Yes taskmaster." Mascot opens his mouth.
Hayden lifts the leg of his shorts and pulls the cock from the jock pouch. Mascot catches a full mouthful and swallows, closing his mouth to do it. His face is then splattered with very yellow and strong smelling piss. He makes a face as he swallows the bitter and salty liquid, but opens again and takes another mouthful. He repeats this twice more. Hayden shakes the piss dribble from his cock onto Mascot's face.
"Thank you taskmaster." Mascot says.
"It can piss now."
Without moving, Mascot pisses. His bladder is roughly the same size as Hayden's so his strong piss stream lasts for almost a full minute.
"Thank you taskmaster."
"A'ite turd, time to carry these sacks back, I don't like them here.
"Yes taskmaster."
Mascot finishes moving the sacks back a few minutes before work is ended for the day. Hayden makes Mascot pick up two decent sized rocks and stand with his arms parallel to the ground for the fifteen or so minutes left in the workday. He stands in front of the slave and pops the slave's large cock when the arms begin to sag.
Noah calls a stop and orders the two into the dungeon, Hayden follows with Mascot. Hayden locks all three into the cages as before and disappears.
So far, this is normal. On a typical day, the slaves are caged and Hayden brings their food. From there, after the masters finish dinner, there might be slave play.
"What's taking so long, I'm starving?" Rex says. After the six weeks of slavery, Rex has about five percent body fat and is healthier than ever before. He would likely have very mixed feelings if he were able to see himself in a mirror-fantastic body, but created in a way repugnant to him. "Not much to taste, but at least it fills the stomach." He's happy today because he and Crete were given work gloves (he was as shocked as if the school bully had given him a parka when it was cold).
A good half hour or so after their normal feeding time, a smell precedes Hayden into the dungeon that makes both Rex's and Crete's mouths water and stomachs jump. Scott comes in with two plates each with a steak on them; Hayden follows with a bowl of slavechow and an empty bowl. Even if Rex could puzzle through the clues, his eyes and total mind are on the slab of meat on the plate (the evening meal always has ground chicken in, so there is always animal protein each day, but it is mixed with the rest of the stuff, so the taste of meat is only a memory for these slaves . . . until now).
Hayden opens Rex's cage but only allows Mascot out. He puts the chow under in front of the slave and he eats quickly and finishes in time.
"May I make dung taskmaster, I really have to bad." Mascot struggles with the last comment since he knows it could increase the chances of being denied, but decides it is necessary to explain the urgency.
"Ok slave. Make into this bowl, but don't empty its ass, just make a little." Hayden says, shoving the empty bowl towards the kneeling slave. Mascot spreads his knees, positions the bowl under his hole and shits. The dung is a stiffer consistency than the night before, but the smell is still overpowering. While this happens, Rex understands this is all for him. His head hangs in what appears to be resignation.
Scott moves to Rex's cage and says, "This is how this is going to work. You don't have to eat it yet, but you do have to taste it. We're going to leave you here. We will come back in 10 minutes, if you are ready, taste it while we watch and you and Crete eat steak. If after ten minutes, you don't, Master Noah and me will eat these steaks and repeat the process. We have no end of steaks and no doubt Mascot has no end of dung."
Then they all leave. Crete is in his cage; Mascot sits Indian style not too far from the bowl containing his dung.
"I can't do this man." Rex is near tears.
"I can't make you. Don't worry about me. I've gone hungry before, it sucks, but it isn't the end of the world." Crete says. It sounds sincere but Rex is having trouble believing it is. "So make this only about you. If that helps you deal."
"Nothing's going to help me deal, this is shit man. This is not something we were intended to eat."
"We? They hold the whips, they hand out the food. Seems like they determine the course of things now."
"Damn, stop thinking like a fucking slave for a second and pretend you have a pair of balls!"
"Whoa a second sport. I know you're pissed and scared, but you are right next to me, it doesn't matter a cold fuck what way you think. Now do it, or don't do it but leave me out of it." Crete moves so his back is to Rex and the bowl.
"Have you ever eaten shit?" Rex says to Mascot.
"No. I had to drink um . . . piss for the first time today though." Mascot isn't exactly proud of the information, but he is trying to be helpful. He has seen this training tactic before and his goal is to keep peace; discord does not sit well in his stomach.
The three men return; except for Crete's position, all is as they left it.
"Are these steaks for us or are you and Crete going to eat like real men?" Scott asks.
"Sir I can't do it Sir."
"That's fine, just watch us eat then."
Scott and Noah eat the steaks quickly. There is lots of slurping and mmming. As they finish, Hayden brings in another pair of plates with steaks. He orders Mascot to dump out his dung and to make a bit more.
"We'll be back in ten." Scott says and they depart.
"You realize that they are going to do this all night? Once a master starts something, especially masters like these, they have to finish it by winning or they lose control. If you still don't do it, then they are going to starve all three of us until you do." Crete says, turning just a bit to face him then turning back.
"This fucking sucks."
"I thought by now you would be past that. I can make it a couple of days without eating-I've done it before. It is possible that Mascot can do it. But you've never been without that long. I know you are about to break now just smelling the meat."
"Fuck. What does it taste like, does it taste like it smells?" There is an attempt to calm his desperation.
"No it doesn't usually taste like it smells. They feed you anything but slavechow?" Crete says to Mascot.
"I don't know what that is."
"Did you eat anything other than what was in the bowl?"
"No."
"Then it will be sour and bitter, mostly bitter. If they really wanted you to suffer they'd make you eat from taskmaster's ass. He must drink lots of coffee and god only knows what else; his is VERY bitter." Then a short pause. "Besides, don't be a pussy, it's just a taste."
The masters and Hayden return.
"Well?" Scott says.
Rex puts his hands on either side of the bowl. He takes a breath and holds it, then he sticks his tongue on the firm turd and licks. Then he raises up with tongue still out-he figured that if he pulled his tongue in, they'd make him do it again because they would want proof-then pulls his tongue in. He makes a face but tries not to show just how hard it is for him to swallow. The dung was sour enough that it made him produce more spit than he figured it would and most of what he licked ran down his throat on the first swallow.
"Well done slave. Taskmaster, let Crete out of his cage and let these two slaves enjoy their meat."
Crete looks at Rex the way someone with more experience does when a tyro begins to make the right moves, quiet respect. Rex's eyes water, but totally from the taste, not from tears.
"Sir What about Mascot sir?" Crete asks as they get to the plates.
"We found out last night that his stomach can't handle meat yet. Your night chow has some ground chicken or turkey in it and it obviously didn't work well in our new slave." Noah explains
"Sir can't he still have something sir?"
"I don't see why not. Boy, is there anything you would like?"
He thinks for a second. "Sir do you have apples sir?"
"Go get the boy an apple." Noah says to Hayden. Then to the slaves: "Have at it, I doubt there is any reason for you two to bother with utensils."
The two slaves pick up the pound of meat before them and look like dogs would if they had thumbs. It took only a matter of moments for the two rib eyes to be devoured to the point that only the bone fragment remained.
Mascot watches the two slaves tear into their meat while he slowly eats his treat. Apples were plentiful where he grew up but slaves were not allowed to eat them except as rewards-in fact to be caught eating one without leave would result in a minimum of 40 whacks with a cane. So he eats it slowly to enjoy it as long as he can. He is still chewing when taskmaster wipes the two slaves' faces and puts them in the cage. The three men wait while he finishes, then he is caged with Rex as the night before.
"I'll get another cage set up here in a couple of days." Noah says as they begin to walk out.
"Sir thank you sir," they all say.
Crete lets out a loud fart, then Rex follows. They are both very potent.
"Whew," Crete says, then to Mascot, "looks like we're going to pay you back for last night."
Labia
The second pony races occur the week after the first. Ka is surly the whole time and Eddie, the hand who took over as the driver of Ka's team has to use the whip often to keep him in line. It is obvious to all that the organizer of the races is a very poor loser.
The crowd for the second race is about the same size as for the first. They see Eddie's team move into an early lead, then a commanding lead. After all teams make the turn and are heading back to the barn, they see Eddie's team slow down. There is no obvious explanation for this and Eddie uses his whip liberally, mostly on Ka's ass. As they get closer the crowd sees that Ka's yokemate is trying his best to run, but that Ka isn't. When the race finishes, Eddie's team comes in second to last. Who wins and who loses at this point means very little to those assembled. Buck watches Eddie and Ka and knows exactly what is coming next.
"What the fuck were you doing you piece of shit?!" Eddie screams as he takes the bit out of Ka's mouth.
"LABIA!" Ka screams.
Total silence. No one here has heard this word since they were made to repeat it before entering the honeyroom. Buck, who watched from the perimeter, as he does all things, runs toward the two men. But before he can get there, Ka shakes off the reins and punches Eddie in the jaw. Eddie collapses because he wasn't expecting it. Ka takes a posture that says "who's next?" Buck gets to him.
"Ok Micah, ok. Take a breath."
Ka looks at Buck and glares. He keeps his fists balled but takes a deep breath. Buck knows that Ka is a spring coiled again and Buck is ready for what might come his way. Nothing happens though. Ka calms and his head drops.
"Come on bud, you've proved your point. I need to get you situated." Buck puts a hand on Ka's shoulder and guides him through the gap in the crowd. "Chet, take Eddie back to the barracks, there'll be a doctor there in an hour or so."
The two men walk slowly towards Buck's place in silence, but Buck can hear Ka's panted breathing. When they get to his office, Buck orders Seth out.
"Take a seat."
"I'd rather stand."
"Whatever. This is how it goes," Buck says sitting in the chair Seth vacated. "You get your id back and some clothes and you will be given the account number and card to an account with your name on it."
"Account?"
"Yes, the taxes are paid, so it is essentially free money. Sam decided when he set this place up that it would be unrealistic to just turn slaves out with a huge hole in their lives that would be impossible to explain during an interview." He checks a couple of things with the pc and says: "Looks like you have just over twenty thousand."
Ka stumbles. "Dollars?"
"Yep. The money is yours to do with as you please. The way he figures it, it is more than the money you would have saved if you had been doing standard work over the time you've been here. For application purposes, call this whatever you like, a ranch a construction job . . . anything manual anyway and list me as the contact and you will get a glowing recommendation."
He thinks for a minute. Then: "Buck I don't really want to go. I always thought I'd get your job when you left."
"That was basically true, but there is no going back. It might have been possible if you only said the word to me, but since ninety percent of the ranch heard you scream it, there is no going back. I need to go see Sam and get you some clothes. So you stay put and I'll get you all set."
Ka thinks: this is how it feels to get laid off. I thought I'd be here for a very long time. I knew when I was tapped to be a hand that I would run this place in a short time and not have to fuck with the outside again.
If he believed in conspiracy theories, he might think that someone seeded this event by giving him the story that led eventually to his poor temper. Whatever events conspired or transpired, he stands now on the edge of freedom that he does not want and is certain he is not ready for. The world he left behind has, if not forgotten him, written him off. He cannot return to the area he called home without having to lie, and he was never good at lying. So the anxiety of a wide-open world full of possibilities, all of them threatening it seems, sets in and he starts to cry.
Buck returns with clothes and his necessary documents.
"Buck man, isn't there an auction coming up?"
"I know where you're going and it can't happen, Micah dude. Think of the chaos if I let you get away with that. We'd have every slave in this place screaming labia anytime they didn't get their way and then say, 'I was just joshing' when things calm down. Sorry guy, but this is how it has to be."
Now Micah turns angry. "I could go to the cops and blow this wide open."
"You ain't the first to say that or hear this. You think Sam would be doing this if he didn't have the cops here taken care of. And anyway, there isn't anything illegal about what's happening here-least not what you think. Everybody here is here because they want to be. It would be difficult if the authorities started poking around, but it could continue shortly after. Don't be stupid. The cops here would make it harder for you if you ran to them and you don't want to have to waste any of your money getting out of jail or town. I mean, you don't really think this place could run as long as it has if Sam hadn't taken all of that into account." Then calmer: "I know this sucks, but this is the way it works. The ranch is more important than any of its pieces."
Buck then has Micah dress. The young man is obviously uncomfortable wearing underwear and jeans and a shirt again for the first time in years. He stands dejected. Only the mind of a real slave would be dejected at the thought of freedom and free money.
"Be careful with the cash. You know how to contact me via instant message; I will help as much as I'm able. In the envelope you will find the account information I told you about and a list of addresses for resumes and applications. You aren't to use the phone number listed; it is for company personnel offices only. Now, I'm going to take you back to the bus station and see that you get on a bus going somewhere. You've got the hour there to decide, if you don't, then I will automatically put you on the next bus to leave. Understood?"
Micah only nods. Then he raises his head and stares forward with conviction. He entered the ranch with his head high; he leaves it the same way.