The Tribes, Chapter 20

Seven days after the melee with the slavers and Tribe Circus, Gull stood by his chair at the conference table as The Leader entered the Conference Room. Each of the various division leaders was present with at least one subordinate. Some, like Stalker, had three subordinates with them. To most of the others in the room, The Leader appeared hale and healthy. He walked with only the slightest of limps. Gull, however, noticed the paleness of The Leader’s face and the stiffness of his walk. He knew The Leader was far from recovered, but still insisted on acting as if he was.

Taking his place at the head of the table, The Leader got right to work. He fixed his gaze on the Devon, the yellow-robed head of the Providers. “Where do we stand with regard to supplies?”

Devon stood, nervously licking his lips. “I’ve found it necessary to begin going further afield to get the supplies needed by the Brotherhood,” Devon reported. “That doesn’t mean, however, that our supplies are dwindling. In fact, we have quite a surplus.”

“Good, good,” The Leader nodded. “Having too much is preferable to not having enough.” He turned to Bull, the new head of the white-robed soldiers. “How is our strength?”

Bull stood proudly. “At present, we have three-hundred and eighty-five soldiers, Leader.”

“Is that counting the slaves?” Beta scowled.

Bull dared to shoot Beta a disdainful glance. “Slaves are never counted,” he said with ill-concealed contempt.

“Rightly so,” The Leader beamed. “Slaves are not members of The Brotherhood, and certainly they are not a part of our fighting arm. They are nothing more than tools for our use and providers of pleasure.”

The Leader apparently ignored Beta’s scowl at the mild rebuke as he turned to Stalker. “Scouting reports?”

“We have been gathering information on several Tribes located around a community a day’s march from here, Leader,” Stalker reported. “So far, we have identified four major Tribes in that area. We don’t yet have accurate number totals for their strength, but a guesstimate would be somewhere around two to three hundred members.” He referred to his notes. “There are two pre-Virus distribution centers that are well-stocked with food – both canned and fresh fruits and vegetables.”

“And have you scouted avenues of attack?” Beta snarled.

“Of course,” Stalker replied, pulling a series of maps from the stack of papers before him. “I was just coming to that. I’ve already consulted with Bull and we agree that a series of attacks has the best chance of success.” He indicated the maps. “Suggested primary and secondary attack routes are marked on the maps, Leader.”

“Excellent work, Stalker,” The Leader said. “Continue coordinating with Bull and report back when you’re both satisfied the time is right for an attack.” He turned to Gull. “And your information?”

“My men and I have interrogated every one of the slaver and Tribe Circus prisoners,” Gull began. “Both provided interesting information about life in The City. I am still personally interrogating the one known as Top Hat and hope to get even more specific information from him before he is totally broken.”

“What have you learned so far?” The Leader asked.

“The major Tribes there are more powerful than we thought at first,” Gull reported. “There is a loose confederation among the Tribes – mostly centered around trading goods and services. There seems to be doubt among the prisoners as to whether that cooperation extends to mutual defense. But, more significantly, it appears that one of the Tribes has developed electricity.”

“That’s impossible!” Beta snapped.

“It must be possible,” Gull said patiently. “Every one of the prisoners reported the same thing under my most persuasive interrogation techniques. There is renewable electricity in The City. One of the common forms of currency are batteries – batteries that can be recharged.” He stared evenly across the table at Beta. “There is no possibility that all of the prisoners lied. Besides electricity, each reported the use of old-time vehicles in The City. Each prisoner agrees that a Tribe known as The Shiprats are behind these unusual innovations.”

“If what you say is really true,” Beta said. “We have to pass up The City.”

“If what Gull says is true, and I have no reason to doubt it is,” The Leader interrupted, rising to his feet. “We must not pass up The City.” He looked around the table, his eyes wide and shining as his voice took on a mystical timbre. “Don’t you understand? Providence has delivered those prisoners into our hands for a purpose. Do any of you think it is an accident that each of the prisoners questioned to date has talked about electricity? Of course it isn’t.” The Leader said without giving anyone around the table a chance to answer. “And, just what is electricity?”

This time, The Leader remained silent as he looked expectantly around the table, his face feverish and his eyes shining intently. Only Gull met The Leader’s gaze directly and said, “It’s power.”

“Yes! I knew Gull would understand,” The Leader cried gleefully. “It’s power! Providence has sent us these prisoners to show us the path we must take. It is our divine mission and right to control the source of power.”

One by one, the others in the room began nodding in agreement. Beta looked on in disbelief – they were actually buying into The Leader’s statements. He couldn’t believe that the others couldn’t see that The Leader’s mind was degenerating.

“I’m sorry, but there isn’t any divine mission,” Beta argued. He turned to the others. “Can’t any of you see it? Our mission has always been strategic – increase our numbers to seize power from others. We aren’t tools of Providence. My God! Do any of you believe for one minute that Providence or some divine grace is going to smile down on us with all the shit we’ve done? It’s….”

“Everything, everything has been done to complete the judgement by Providence on a world that had lost its way,” The Leader spat. “The virus and the Bad Times that followed were just a part of the purification process. Those things were only the beginning to show us the way.”

The Leader rose from his chair, his arms outstretched. “You, Beta, continue to make the mistake that Salvation is a gift! Salvation must be earned through trial and tribulation. Salvation is a purification process that makes us harder, nobler, and better suited to live in the New World Providence has provided us.”

Beta shook his head in disbelief at what he was hearing. “You’re fucking whacked,” Beta screamed. He turned to Gull. “Look at what he did to you,” Beta pointed down at Gull’s hands and the stumps where his little fingers used to be. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel pissed at what this freak did to you!”

Gull stared down at his hands, turning them over as he studied them. Finally, he slowly lifted his head to face Beta. “Pissed? Why would you think that?” Gull lifted his hands for everyone to see. “Don’t you understand – I was the first one saved by The Leader. He’s right – Salvation must be earned. The Leader saved me and showed me the path to Salvation.” Gull stood and moved around the table to approach Beta. “You’ve lost the way, Brother, just as I did at first. It’s not too late for your reclamation,” he held out his hands as if to embrace Beta. “Reclaim your faith before it’s too late.”

Beta recoiled in horror. “You’re as whacked as he is!” Beta screamed, pointing past Gull to The Leader.

“He’s a lost cause,” The Leader said, his voice sad and soft. He rose and gave Beta one last look before shaking his head in sorrow. “Throw him down and make an example of him.”

Gull motioned to his two assistants standing in the shadows. “Take him.”

The two stone-faced Enforcers swarmed over Beta, literally throwing him to the floor before pulling his hands behind his back and tying them together. As the Enforcers lifted the snarling prisoner to his feet, Beta was shocked to find the others rise to their feet and applaud as he was dragged away.

Cat stood at the edge of the parking lot entrance to the Queen Mary’s berth. The Marketplace was a hive of activity as peddlers began setting out their wares and opening coveted booths. The six acrobats stared at the activity and the ship in wonder.

“The Shiprats really live on that?” Connor asked in awe, pointing at the huge liner.

“Yeah, they sure do,” Cat grunted. “And, from what I unnerstand, they come up with the idea for the Market, too.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “C’mon,” he sighed. “Let’s get down there and get this over with.”

Cat squared his shoulders and strode across the parking lot towards the Market stalls. As he walked, he glanced from side to side looking for one of the Shiprats. As he got closer, he saw one of them – a lithe guy with masses of caramel colored hair. Cat thought he was the one called Sasha. Taking another deep breath, he headed straight for Sasha.

Sasha looked up and saw Cat’s approach. His mouth tightened with distaste at the sight of the slaver. He also noticed the six bleached blond slaves dutifully following Cat. Sasha gave a sharp whistle and was immediately rewarded when Jordy’s bald head popped up from a stall further down the Market aisle. Scrambling under the counter, Jordy dashed over to Sasha’s side.

“Get Bray, Jack, Ryan, and Dal down here, quick,” Sasha said. Jordy took one look at Cat’s approach and knew better than to waste time with questions. He spun on his heel and dashed away towards the ship.

“I came to see Kim,” Cat announced as he closed on Sasha. He jerked a thumb towards the tumblers in his wake. “And, I wanna leave this lot here.”

“We don’t deal in slaves,” Sasha announced.

“They ain’t slaves,” Cat grunted. He looked past Sasha. “How long before the reinforcements get here?”

“Huh?”

“I seen you send that bald kid off running,” Cat said. “I’d have to be purty stupid not to figger you sent for some kind of backup.”

“I sent for some of the others,” Sasha admitted. “But, not as reinforcements.”

Cat shrugged. “Whatever, it don’t matter. I can wait.”

Bray and Jack were the first to arrive, followed quickly by Dal and the others. Bray guided the group down to the picnic tables where the Shiprats sat or stood on one side of a long table while Cat sat on the other side. The acrobats lined up behind Cat. By the time everyone was seated, Jordy turned up with Amber, Tai San, and the other girls.

“First off,” Cat began. “I brung ya these kids – they’re acrobats and need a safe place to live.” He smiled wryly. “Don’t know if yas know it, but there’s some bad characters out there. The world just ain’t a safe place no more.” He looked hard at the Shiprats. “These kids ain’t no slaves, I want ya to know that straight up. Fact is, I’m outta the slave business.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bray said carefully.

“I don’t ‘spect ya to believe me,” Cat sighed. “But, it’s the truth.”

“What about Ned,” Amber asked. “Did you have some kind of falling out with him?”

“Ned’s dead,” Cat said flatly. He wiped at moisture in his eye. “I don’t know what yas said or did to Ned last time he was here to see how Kim was doin’,” Cat said. “But, you made him think things over and he decided to get outta the slave business. He figgered he could set himself up as a trader – I mean like the ones ya got here, not a slave trader.” Cat gave a wry grin. “He even figgered that once he proved he really was sincere, he might be able to have his own stall right here.”

“If his change was sincere, that would have been possible,” Tai San said.

Cat nodded. “I figgered as much – y’all seem the kind of people big on second chances,” Cat said. “Maybe that’s what made Ned decide to change his ways.”

“So what happened to Ned?” Bray asked.

Cat went into his story, leaving nothing out. He described how Top Hat wanted to form an alliance with The Leader in order to topple Zoot, and made it impossible for Ned to refuse to act as host for the meeting. He described how Ned didn’t trust The Leader and how he had insisted Cat promise to take care of Kim if things went wrong. And, things had gone horribly wrong. He told how The Leader’s soldiers had emerged from the woods in an attempt to capture the visitors, and how he had hit The Leader in the leg with a bolt from his crossbow.

“Where did you hit him exactly?” Jack interrupted.

“I tol’ ya – in the leg,” Cat repeated. “I hit him in the thigh.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Jack said, beginning to stutter. “But, where in the thigh did you hit him? Was it in the inside or outside of his thigh?”

“What’s the difference?” Dal asked.

“Were you using barbed bolts?” Jack asked, ignoring Dal’s question.

“Yeah, I always do,” Cat said, wondering what was running through Jack’s mind.

“What difference does it make?” Dal repeated.

“It makes all the difference in the world,” Jack said, jumping up and pacing back and forth by the head of the table. “You see, if Cat hit The Leader in the outer thigh, that’s going to be a painful wound for sure, but it’s unlikely to be fatal. On the other hand, if Cat hit The Leader in the inner thigh – well, he’s probably dead by now. If he’s not – he will be soon, and he’s suffering badly.”

“Good!” Ryan said with passion.

“From a wound in the leg?” Bray asked doubtfully.

“From a wound in that part of the leg, yes” Jack confirmed. “We’ve seen the extent of The Brotherhood’s First Aid skills…”

“Like almost non-existent,” Amber murmured.

“Exactly,” Jack said. “If Cat hit The Leader in the inside of his thigh with a barbed bolt, then it’s a really good bet that the femoral artery was either severed outright, or at the very least, nicked. There’s no way The Brotherhood could repair that kind of damage. Hell, I couldn’t do it.”

“So what?” Cat asked. “So The Leader’s dead … just means someone else’ll take his place.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Amber said slowly. “I don’t imagine The Leader shares a lot of his authority and I can pretty much bet he hasn’t made it clear just what the line of succession will be.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Jack said.

“I get it,” Bray jumped in. “With The Leader dead and no clear line of succession, The Brotherhood will be thrown into in-fighting among the upper-level Brothers to determine who takes over. With them occupied like that, a lot of the Brothers and maybe most of the slaves will take the opportunity to put as much distance between them and The Brotherhood.”

Jack leaned over Cat. “That’s why it’s so important for you to remember exactly where you hit The Leader,” he said urgently.

Cat closed his eye and tried to picture the scene of the melee in his mind’s eye. Slowly, very slowly, everything began to take shape for him again. He saw The Leader rise and his hand reach down to grab the shaft of the bolt in his leg. Unconsciously, his own hand reached down to clutch the same spot on his own leg. He opened his eye and looked down. His hand was resting on the outer side of his leg. He shook his head sadly.

“It was the outside of his thigh,” Cat said. “I’m sure of it.” He looked around apologetically. “I done the best I could,” he said lamely.

“You did better than that,” Jack said softly.

“Jack’s right,” Ryan added. “No one we know has even come that close.” He looked from Cat to his fellow Shiprats. “Sounds to me like Ned died a hero in the end.”

Ryan’s observation was met with nods and general agreement. They might not have cared for Ned’s activities, but from what Cat said he certainly seemed to have redeemed himself at the very end. Amber finally suggested that Jordy show Cat the way to where Kim was staying, adding that Kim should hear everything directly from Cat. The Shiprats watched as Cat was led away.

“You’re not going to throw Cat out on the streets are you?” Connor finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Amber admitted truthfully.

“He saved our lives,” Connor pointed out. “He didn’t have to do that. And then, he brought us straight here.”

“And he didn’t have to do that, either,” Megan said. “I know Ned left Cat a fortune in stuff back at Tribe Circus ... he could have gone straight there, but instead, he came here.”

“What are you trying to say?” Dal asked.

Connor shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I guess maybe we’re saying he’s changed and deserves a second chance.”

“We’ll have to talk it over,” Amber said gently. “That’s how we do things here.”

While the Shiprats were discussing Cat’s future, Gull was contemplating the limited future of Top Hat. The former Tribe Circus leader was tied spread-eagle to the rack in the locker room dungeon of Enforcer headquarters. Gull’s assistants had already removed every hair from Top Hat’s body, leaving his totally smooth from head to toe. Top Hat’s garish make up had been removed with scrub brushes, leaving his face red, abraded and raw.

Gull slowly circled the table, idly running his finger along Top Hat’s smooth flesh, letting the anticipation of what might be in store for him build in Top Hat’s mind. He wrapped his hand around Top Hat’s impressive, thick, uncircumcised eight-inch dick and gave it a moderate tug. The Tribe Circus leader bucked his hips in an unsuccessful bid to move away from Gull’s hand.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Gull laughed. “You better understand that whatever I feel like doing to you, I will.” He gave Top Hat’s dick another, harder, tug. “I’m in total control here. I decide whether you experience pain, or no pain. You’d better accept that right now. From now on, there is no pleasure – there is just pain and no pain.” He released Top Hat’s dick and smiled. “And, the pain comes in varying degrees from mild to – well, to levels you can’t even begin to imagine in your worst nightmares.”

“What do you want with us?” Top Hat hissed.

“I like the way you talk,” Gull chuckled. “And, since you ask, what I want right now is some information from you. Give me the information I want, and you won’t suffer any pain. Refuse to cooperate and the pain begins.”

“What information do you want from us?”

“I want to know about these Shiprats,” Gull said, conversationally. “I’ve heard so much about them from your fellow Tribe members. They interest me.”

Top Hat made a sour face. “Top Hat doesn’t like the Shiprats, he has no interest in discussing them. They are of little interest.”

Gull shrugged. “It’s your choice.” Gull turned to his two assistants standing by the glowing braziers. “Give him a hot foot,” he ordered.

Each of the Enforcers gleefully removed a white hot rod from the brazier and approached the table. To their surprise, Top Hat stared at them in silence. Most prisoners began screaming and begging as soon as they saw the branding irons. Top Hat didn’t make a sound until the white-hot irons were placed flat against the soles of his feet. As the two Enforcers held the irons in place, Top Hat screamed and twisted against his bonds in a futile attempt to escape the searing pain.

“Now, shall we try again?” Gull asked as he motioned for his assistants to remove the irons.

“What do you want of us?” Top Hat sobbed.

“The Shiprats,” Gull prompted.

“The Shiprats are nothing,” Top Hat cried. “They are a bunch of pussies. They are weak, Top Hat despises them.”

“But, The Leader and I are interested in them,” Gull persisted. “Do they really have the secret of generating electricity?”

“Top Hat doesn’t know their secret.”

“That’s not the question I asked,” Gull said reproachfully. “You’ll learn. Sooner or later, everyone who comes through here learns.” He turned to his assistants. “Do his left palm.”

Top Hat tried to ball his hands up into fists to protect his palms. The bigger of the two assistants, grabbed Top Hat’s hand and forced his fingers open, exposing the palm. Top Hat did his best not to let his fingers be pried open, screaming as a sharp crack filled the room.

The assistant looked up at Gull. “I think I broke one or two of his fingers,” he said apologetically.

Gull shrugged indifferently. “That’s his problem,” he said. “It’s the price he pays for resisting you.”

The other assistant approached with a new branding iron of a phoenix with wings outstretched and pressed it down against Top Hat’s exposed palm. Top Hat’s high-pitched screams of pain filled the room as the assistant held the branding iron in place.

Gull leaned over so his face was directly above Top Hat’s. “The question is, do the Shiprats have the secret of generating electricity?”

“They must, they must,” Top Hat sobbed. “Top Hat doesn’t know how they do it, he just knows they have electric lights.”

Gull stroked Top Hat’s smooth scalp. “See how easy that was?” He asked. “You could have saved yourself so much pain. Now, get ready … here comes the next question. Who does know the secret of generating electricity?”

“Top Hat told you already – the Shiprats!”

“Wrong answer,” Gull quipped. He turned to his assistants. “Do the other hand.”

“Top Hat answered your question!” The Tribe Circus leader wailed. “Not fair! Not fair!”

“You didn’t tell me who among the Shiprats holds the secrets,” Gull snapped. “For that, you have to pay the price.”

Once again, Top Hat tried desperately to clench his hand tightly closed as he screamed and wailed. “Top Hat doesn’t know the answer. No fair!” Suddenly, he stopped struggling, as his eyes grew wide. “Wait, wait … there is one … the one called Jack. He must be the one!” He began nodding his head violently. “Yes, yes … the little one called Jack … he must be the one!”

The Enforcer holding the branding iron looked questioningly at Gull, who nodded. “Do it,” he ordered. “He didn’t give the correct answer the first time.”

Top Hat screamed and swore viscously at Gull, accusing him once more of behaving in an unfair manner. His words trailed off into high-pitched screams of agony as the branding iron was pressed into his right palm.

Gull let his prisoner scream and wail for a while after the iron was removed from his hand. After several minutes of hysterical babbling, Gull began slapping Top Hat’s face to get his attention. “Pay attention,” he ordered. “Time for another question.”

“No more, no more,” Top Hat sobbed. “Top Hat doesn’t want to answer any more.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” Gull said, conversationally. “In this chamber, everyone does what I want. Now, tell me all about Jack. Describe him.”

Top Hat’s mouth opened and closed silently several times before he finally managed to form words. “Jack, Jack … little guy … skinny … red hair, red hair,” Top Hat babbled. “Not his own hair, though, no … not his own.”

“Not his own hair?” Gull asked. “What do you mean? He wears a wig?”

“No, no wig,” Top Hat shook his head from side to side. “His own hair, not his own color. Brilliant red-orange hair. Jack’s hair, orange-red … little guy … skinny.”

“Good,” Gull said. “No pain for that question.”

“No pain, no pain,” Top Hat repeated.

“Are you sure this person called Jack is the one who knows the secret to generating electricity?”

“Not sure,” Top Hat said, hesitantly. “But, he must be the one … must be the one … at the Tribe Gathering he’s the one who showed off the little wind mill. Jack must be the one.”

“You’ve done well,” Gull praised, patting Top Hat’s smooth head. “Now you can relax. When I come back, I’ll give you something to take your mind off the pain you’re feeling.”

“Is he sure this one called Jack is the one who knows how to generate electricity?” The Leader asked.

“As sure as he can be,” Gull said. “I had to be careful of how much pain I subjected him to, Leader.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s already so close to the edge of madness that subjecting him to too much pain would probably drive him over the edge and make anything he might tell us worthless – if he was able to even talk at all,” Gull explained. “Top Hat did mention that he personally saw this Jack demonstrated a small wind mill at some Tribe Gathering in The City.”

“Which means that Jack – whoever he is – is the most logical candidate for being behind the generation of electricity,” The Leader interrupted. “It occurs to me that when we take The City, we must strike first at these Shiprats.”

“Obviously, Leader,” Gull agreed.

“Their home on the Queen Mary must be taken as intact as possible,” The Leader continued. “And, above all else – this Jack geek must be taken alive.” The Leader leaned back against the pile of cushions on the sofa, spreading his arms wide across the back of the sofa and smiled his most feral grin. “And, once he’s revealed all of his secrets…”

“He can disappear,” Gull grinned back.

Bray called a full meeting of the Shiprats in the Dining Room during lunch to discuss the matter of Cat. Lars and Salene both volunteered to stay with the slaver while the Tribe met. Bray waited until everyone had finished their meals – and then briefly and succinctly retold Cat’s story. As he spoke, he examined the faces of his Tribemates. Some like Heather and Peter remained impassive and impossible for him to read. There were others, like Jordan and Brandon who were clearly in disbelief that Bray would even consider accepting a slaver into the Tribe.

“I say we should show Cat the road and the sooner the better,” Jordan said hotly as soon as Bray had finished talking. “We don’t need his kind around us. I don’t know about anyone one else, but I’ve seen slavers in action – it wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“Jordan’s right,” Brandon said. “Slavers are bad news – they’re almost as bad as The Brotherhood.”

“You’re right,” Tai San agreed. “But, do you think it’s possible for a slaver to have a change of heart? Isn't Cat entitled to a second chance?”

“Let him start over somewhere else,” Brandon said.

“Have you stopped to consider that we are somewhere else for him?” Tai San countered. “Cat isn’t a member of any of The City’s other Tribes. He isn’t from around here – he has to start fresh somewhere, so why shouldn’t it be here?”

“Brandon’s right,” Amber said. “Cat has undoubtedly done some terrible things. And now, he claims that he wants to put it all behind him and start over. You should know that he didn’t ask to join our Tribe. Hell, we don’t even know yet if he’d accept an offer to join us.”

“So why bother even asking him?” Brandon asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Jack said quietly as he rose. “We’ve got a pretty good thing going here and it’s making us forget what things were like – and still are – out there. Ever since the Bad Times, slavery has been an accepted way of life almost everywhere.” Jack looked around, his blue eyes full of sadness. “There’s probably not a single one of us who didn’t participate in the slave business in some way. Maybe some of us had slaves where we came from before … or, maybe we just traded with another Tribe who did use slaves and didn’t say anything. Or, maybe we just hid and looked the other way when slavers came hunting and hoped they’d take someone else instead of us.” Jack rubbed the heel of his hand against his left eye. “I know that’s what I did – I hid in the shadows and pressed my hands against my ears so I didn’t have to hear the shouts of the slavers, and the crying of the kids they were busy capturing.” He blinked furiously in a futile attempt to hold back the tears that had begun to stream down his face.

Amber reached up and patted Jack’s arm. “It’s okay, Jack.”

“It is now,” Jack said. “But, only because one day I got tired of hiding and hoping nobody came for me…”

“The day you saved me,” Bray said.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, sniffing. “And the day I did, I got my second chance at living – not just existing and surviving from day to day, but really living again.”

The other Shiprats looked away, thinking about their own experiences in the past. They all knew that in one way or another they had participated in the slave business. Brandon hung his head; shamefully remembering the half dozen slaves his Tribe had kept. They hadn’t even bought them from slavers – they had simply enslaved some Strays and used them for manual labor.

“Look,” Brandon said. “Forget about what I said before. Jordan here can tell you that sometimes I can be a real asshole and I was being an asshole just now.” He looked around the room. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I know I got a second chance with this Tribe. I guess it’s only right that Cat gets his chance, too.”

One by one, the others cast their votes in favor of Cat being allowed to join the Tribe if that was what he wanted. There wasn’t any doubt about inviting Kim and the tumblers to join the Shiprats. Everyone had grown to like Kim during his brief stay and no one could imagine sending the tumblers out on their own alone again.

It didn’t take Cat long to prove that he was sincere in trying to the leopard who managed to change his spots. He had been amazed when Bray approached him with the offer to stay for as long as he liked as a guest of the Tribe, or join the Tribe if that’s what he wanted. The offer stunned him, leaving him unable to find the words to accept Bray’s offer. He was even more stunned when Brandon, eager to make up for his initial opposition, limped over to his side to give him a hearty handshake.

“Of course he’s going to be a Shiprat,” Brandon said heartily, as if he couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to be a member of the Tribe. Brandon gave Cat the best grin his scarred face would allow. “Let me be the first to welcome you as a new Tribemember.”

Cat was still gaping in surprise when the rest of the Tribe crowded around him, slapping him on the back or pumping his hand in welcome. Once he managed to disentangle himself from the welcoming wishes of his new Tribemates, Cat shyly asked Bray if it might be possible for him to borrow a tractor or truck in order to bring the wagon containing his and Kim’s belongings back to the Queen. Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the cab of a truck speeding across town to the Tribe Circus warehouse.

At the warehouse, Cat explained the situation to the few remaining Tribe Circus members and to Bingo and Snake Eyes. The two slavers were dumbfounded to hear that Ned and everyone but Cat had been wiped out by The Brotherhood. They were even more astounded when Cat gave them a more than generous cut of the bounty the slavers had amassed under Ned. Once the split was made, Cat helped Ryan jury-rig the wagon to the truck hitch for the trip back to the Queen Mary.

Over the next few days, Cat worked at building a Market stall for him and Kim. Cat had an abundance of skills – he was an adequate strategist, an excellent fighter, and was as strong as a bull. But, it didn’t take long for him to learn that he was dismal at carpentry. Ryan and Dal came to his rescue and by the end of the week, Cat was applying the finishing touches to the paint on his new stall. He stepped back and examined the bright red stall with the yellow trim admiringly.

“Whatja think?” Cat asked Kim.

“It’s bright,” Kim said slowly. “That’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Cat agreed happily. “I figger it’ll stand out more. Think the colors are cheery enough?”

“Well, it will certainly stand out,” Kim agreed. “Going for bright and cheery, huh?”

“Think I went overboard?” Cat asked, suddenly concerned. “I ain’t never done nutin’ to try to attract people before.”

“Nah, I think you got it just right,” Kim said.

Satisfied, Cat went to work stocking their new stall with supplies. As he laid out his wares, Cat began whistling a cheerful tune truly happy for the first time in his life.

Top Hat watched nervously as Gull stalked towards him, his two assistants following a few paces behind. “You’ve come to kill Top Hat,” the former Tribe Circus leader croaked hoarsely.

“No, no I promise you that I’m not going to kill you,” Gull said smoothly.

“Top Hat will not be a slave for anyone,” Top Hat snapped.

“Of course not,” Gull agreed. “You wouldn’t be any good to me or The Leader as a slave.”

“Then what is our fate to be?” Top Hat asked through cracked lips.

“Your only worth is as an example,” Gull said, his voice taking on a slight edge. “You and your fat companion tried to assassinate The Leader. Everyone needs to see exactly what kind of suffering comes from a mistake like that.” He glanced over his shoulder to his assistants. “Get them spread wide.”

Grinning, the two assistants adjusted the stirrups on the exam table so that Top Hat’s legs were spread wide, leaving his crotch exposed and helpless. Gull took his place between his victim’s legs and experimentally hefted Top Hat’s heavy eight-inch uncircumcised cock experimentally.

“Y’know,” Gull said conversationally. “I’m surprised you decided to call yourself Top Hat. With this slab of meat between your legs, you should have called yourself Donkey Dick – it suits you better.” He tilted his head from side to side as he examined Top Hat’s penis. “The only thing that really detracts from it, is all this extra skin. But, I can fix that.”

His words were still beginning to sink into Top Hat’s mind when Gull ordered his assistants to gag their victim. They went to work wrapping yards of duct tape around Top Hat’s head, making it impossible for him to make an articulate sound.

“There’s really nothing for you to be afraid of,” Gull said, soothingly. “Of course, I’ve never really done this before, but it shouldn’t be too hard.” He held up a green plastic device that looked like a small bell with wings attached to the top. “This is called a Tara clamp,” he explained, sliding the loose foreskin on Top Hat’s dick back as far as he could.

Top Hat twitched, jerked, and pulled violently at his bonds as Gull worked the plastic bell over the mushroom head of his victim’s dick. The malice in Gull’s eyes proved that his benign smile was a lie.

“Now, all I have to do is pull all that nasty excess foreskin up over the bell as tight as possible,” Gull said, matching his actions to his words. “Then, I fit this ring over the clamp and pull these little wings down to lock the ring in place.” He locked the clamp in place and playfully tapped Top Hat’s dick. “See how nice and easy that was?” Gull and his assistants both laughed at the terrified look on Top Hat’s face.

“That didn’t hurt a bit, did it?” Gull teased. “Of course it didn’t,” he answered for the gagged Top Hat. He forced a look of mock sadness over his features. “But, I’m afraid this next part is going to hurt.” He held out his hand and one of his assistants slapped a wicked-looking scalpel into it. “You see, this is the part where I slice off your foreskin.”

Top Hat’s frenzied bucking against his bonds stopped as Gull brought the scalpel closer. Gull knew his victim was motionless because he was terrified of having his dick cut off if he moved too much. Gull pressed the razor-sharp blade hard against the Tara clamp, ignoring the trickle of blood that appeared as he methodically cut away Top Hat’s foreskin.

Even the heavy duct tape gag couldn’t totally silence Top Hat’s attempts at screaming – both at the horror of what was being done to him against his will and the pain that was blooming in his groin. His bulging eyes watched every move of Gull’s hand as it moved around his captive dick. All too quickly, Gull was sliding the severed foreskin away from the clamp.

Gull looked up at Top Hat cheerfully. “There now! That wasn’t so hard – all done,” Gull laughed. “Well, actually we’re not totally done. The instructions say that I’m supposed to stop the bleeding … I’m supposed to use stitches or surgical glue.” Gull pulled another face. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any of that stuff … so, if you thought that last part hurt … well, this is really going to hurt.”

Gull stepped back and nodded to one of his assistants who lifted a white-hot soldering iron from the brazier. From the way Top Hat jerked and writhed as the Enforcer used the soldering iron to cauterize his incision, Gull decided that he had been right – it did hurt more than the last stage of the circumcision process.

Gull examined Top Hat’s freshly circumcised dick. “See? That looks so much nicer than it did before with all that dangly skin hanging down.” He traced his index finger along Top Hat’s smooth balls. “Speaking of dangly bits hanging down…”

Top Hat began beating his head against the padded headrest of the exam table, twisting his head from side to side as he realized what Gull had in mind for him. He couldn’t believe someone was going to have the audacity to cut off his balls. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen to Top Hat – he was supposed to do those things to others. Tears ran down his cheeks into his ears as he felt Gull wrapping thin wire around and around his low-hanging balls.

Gull ignored his victim’s futile struggles as he pulled each wrap of the wire tight, cutting off the blood supply. He could feel Top Hat’s balls growing cooler and cooler in his hands as the tightly wrapped wire did its job of starving his victim’s balls of blood. It never ceased to amaze Gull at how much his victims struggled against the inevitable. Even though they knew that once the wire noose was pulled tight and he began wrapping the long length of wire over and over around the helpless victim’s scrotum that their balls were doomed, Gull’s victims continued to struggle. Not that Gull minded watching them struggle. The truth was that he found their struggles a powerful rush.

Gull could feel the adrenaline rush building already. Under his crimson robes, his dick was hard with expectation and leaking like a runny faucet. The adrenaline was making Gull’s heart beat faster, and his breathing heavier. Gull knew it would keep building until he got relief – and when that came, the sudden release of endorphins would flood his body, washing away the adrenaline, leaving him spent and euphoric.

Stepping away from the exam table, Gull examined the tools on his equipment cart. He had so many choices in the cutting tools available to him. Generally, Gull was content to use a hatchet or meat cleaver and three-pound mallet the way The Leader had shown him. There was something viscerally satisfying in hefting the mallet and hearing the dull thunk of the blade cutting deeply into the wooden chopping block that had been placed under the victim’s doomed scrotum.

Gull’s finger lingered over a pair of chrome bladed pruning shears. He lifted the shears and regarded them – it was such a curious thing about his instruments, he reflected. When used for their original purpose, his tools were so mundane and even innocent. But, used for the purposes devised by Gull, the tools became sinister and dangerous. He hefted the pruning shears as if weighing them. He liked the way they felt in his hand and decided to give them a try on Top Hat.

As Gull approached the examination table, the pruning shears held out before him, Top Hat’s struggles became even more frantic and wild. The cords in his neck stood out as he tried to force sounds past his tape gag. Gull smiled broadly as Top Hat’s face turned almost purple in his frenzied exertions to avoid what was now only moments away.

Gull took up his place between Top Hat’s legs and opened the blades of the pruning shears wide. Taking Top Hat’s cold balls in his free hand, Gull eased the razor sharp blades over his victim’s scrotum just below the wire binding. He squeezed the handles of the shears together, surprised at the resistance the blades met as they cut through Top Hat’s delicate ball sac. There was a satisfying click as the blades came together and Top Hat’s balls detached from his body. The lead Enforcer tossed the severed ball sac in his hand a couple of times before tossing it to one of his assistants who immediately dropped it into the brazier while the other Enforcer began to work the bellows, stoking the fire hotter and hotter.

Within moments, the stench of burning flesh filled the chamber as Gull unbuttoned his robes to reveal his own massive, fully erect cock. The two assistants giggled sadistically as they watched their boss position himself between Top Hat’s outstretched legs. Reaching down, Gull spread Top Hat’s ass cheeks wide as he pressed the purple mushroom head of his tool directly against his victim’s ass. Gull towered over Top Hat for several long moments, and then savagely thrust his hips forward.

Top Hat twisted and writhed in pain and shame as his tormentor entered him and began methodically raping his hole. The feeling of being violated unlocked long dormant memories in Top Hat’s tortured brain. He remembered the only other time he had been fucked in the ass – he had been raped that time, too. He had been in the relocation camps and the Bad Times had just begun. He hadn’t been Top Hat back then – Top Hat hadn’t been born until after that first rape. Back in the camp he had still been plain old Harold Rassmussen, a skinny friendless, frightened teen.

As Gull pounded away at Top Hat’s ass, the veil between the Top Hat and Harold Rassmussen personas opened a crack, letting the unfortunate Harold’s memories of that rape in the camp wash back over him. There had been six of them holding him down and ripping his clothes off while all the other boys in the dormitory watched and jeered. The Harold persona remembered the shame of being stripped naked and raped as everyone else watched. Harold’s only defense was to retreat into the recesses of his mind. His subconscious searched for a safe, happy place to hide and had found it in childhood memories of Harold’s visit to the circus when he was five years old.

As the six took turns raping their victim, Harold’s tortured mind retreated further and further into the safe memory and the Top Hat persona began to take shape. Harold remembered how powerful the Ring Master had seemed to him, in his gleaming black silk top hat and red tailcoat. No one would ever dare abuse such a powerful figure.

A week after he had been raped, Harold found a plastic top hat in a box in the recreation hall. When he placed it on his head, Top Hat was born and Harold Rassmussen disappeared into that dark recess where fragile minds hid. Top Hat armed himself with aluminum baseball bat and vowed revenge against those who had abused skinny, frightened Harold Rassmussen.

Stalking into the cafeteria, Top Hat found the leader of the gang who had raped Harold and swinging the bat in a mighty arc smashed the bastard’s jaw. While the gang leader writhed in pain on the floor, Top Hat swung the bat again and again, each blow connecting with the ganger’s groin. By the time Top Hat was finished, the ganger’s testicles had been turned to mush. The other gang members tried to hide, but Top Hat hunted each of them down and gave them the same treatment he had meted out to their leader. Each time he had swung the bat, Top Hat promised weak, frightened Harold that he would personally see to it that Harold was never harmed again.

By the time Top Hat stalked out of the relocation camp days later, his new identity had totally taken over. Since that time, Top Hat had kept his promise to Harold and protected him. But now, the carefully constructed mental protections of the Top Hat persona shattered like glass under Gull’s savage assault. Top Hat faded away like the morning mist, leaving Harold Rassmussen behind, helpless and unable to fend for himself. The Harold persona did the only thing left to it – it shut down totally, leaving the body of Top Hat/Harold Rassmussen a catatonic empty husk.

Gull howled with victory as his body shook and quivered under the intensity of his orgasm. He stepped back, his dick dripping and his chest heaving. He had knew in his gut that his victim’s spirit had broken even before he looked into the dull, staring eyes. Staring down into the unblinking eyes, Gull knew that there wasn’t anything more that could be done to the former Tribe Circus leader.

“Get the tape off of him and throw him back in his cell,” Gull ordered his assistants. “He’s nothing anymore.”

Gull, his robes still open, strode to the wash bucket in the corner and casually washed himself down. He watched with interest as his assistants peeled the tape gag from their unyielding subject. Top Hat’s mouth hung open and he was already drooling all over himself as he was dragged unceremoniously from the room.

Devon, the head of the Providers was headed to the conference room when he saw Stalker up ahead of him. Quickening his pace, Devon easily caught up with the Seeker leader. For several yards neither spoke. Finally, Stalker cast a sideways glance towards his companion.

“Heard anything about Beta?” Stalker asked carefully.

“Um, no – not a word,” Devon said quickly.

“Me, neither,” Stalker murmured. “You’d have thought we’d have heard something by now. As far as I know, nobody’s seen him since the last meeting.”

“Uh huh,” Devon grunted. “So, what do you think?”

Stalker glanced around nervously. “I think that I’m not about to go around asking questions about Beta. Sooner or later we’ll find out what happened to him and that’s good enough for me.”

“I know what you mean,” Devon agreed. “I figure he’s somewhere in Gull’s dungeon right now.”

“And the less I know about that place and what goes on there, the better,” Stalker said fervently, dropping his voice so low that Devon had to strain to hear him. “Still, you gotta admit it took balls the size of grapefruits to do what he did.”

“Yeah, you think so?” Devon chuckled darkly. “You can be sure that no matter what size his balls are, he’s not gonna keep them much longer – if he still has them at all.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Stalker moaned, unconsciously cupping a hand over his groin protectively.

Beta was indeed being held in one of the equipment cages that Gull had turned into cells for prisoners. After being dragged from the conference room, he had been taken to The Leader’s suite and held there until The Leader and Gull showed up. The confrontation had been short – Beta’s protest had been cut short by a savage backhand from The Leader. While he was still reeling from the blow, Gull had ordered his guards to gag the prisoner. On The Leader’s orders, Beta’s indigo robes were ripped from his body, leaving him naked. Gull had his Enforcers bind Beta’s arms behind his back and force him to his knees in a pose of submission.

Even though he had to know the danger hanging over him, Beta glared defiantly at The Leader who regarded his former Number Two impassively. The Leader paced around Beta silently for several minutes before taking a seat on the other side of the room. The Leader tapped his forefinger absently against his forehead as he stared silently across the room.

“Take him to your cells,” The Leader finally said softly after a twenty-minute silence. “Wait until after dark – I don’t want him seen or recognized as he’s dragged away.”

“Leave it to me, you won’t be disappointed,” Gull promised.

That night, well after dark, Gull’s guards frog-marched Beta from the building. To ensure that no one recognized him, a towel had been wrapped around his head. The Enforcers hurried the naked Beta the few blocks that separated the hotel and the old YMCA that Gull used as his headquarters and deposited him in the equipment cage. For the first two days, Beta was totally ignored – no one came to torment him or see to his needs – at least while he was awake. Each time he woke from sleep, Beta found a tray of food and water on the floor of his cell.

Beta woke with a start on the third day to find Gull silently staring at him through the heavy wire mesh of the cage. Wearily climbing to his feet, Beta unconsciously ran a hand over his half-inch indigo hair before modestly covering his groin with his hands.

“You here to gloat?” Beta croaked through cracked lips. “Or are you here to describe some new form of torture you’ve dreamed up?”

“It’s not too late for you,” Gull said softly.

“Not too late?” Beta sneered. He glanced down at Gull’s hands – at the keloid scar tissue where Gull’s little fingers used to be. He shook his head and snorted. “You mean I crawl back to The Leader and say I’m sorry and sacrifice my fingers to show what a bad boy I was?”

“You cracked under all the stress of the past few weeks,” Gull suggested. “You said things you didn’t mean. Atone for your mistake and all will be forgiven. You will be able to resume your position at the right hand of The Leader.”

“Didn’t mean what I said?” Beta cried incredulously. “Of course I fucking meant it! Don’t tell me you believe all that shit about divine Providence The Leader was spouting?”

“I know for a fact that it’s all true,” Gull said serenely. “You used to know that, too. I’m here to offer you a chance to atone and return to the fold.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Beta spat.

Gull shook his head sadly as if he were genuinely sorry before turning and walking slowly to the door. Jerking the door open, Gull waved four of his Enforcers into the room. He turned back to Beta. “One last chance,” he said.

“Go fuck yourself,” Beta repeated.

Gull slowly shook his head before turning to his assistants. “Shave him down – everything from head to toe,” he ordered angrily. “When you’re done, take his sorry ass to the chamber and get him strapped down to the exam table … when he’s strapped down, you can each fuck his ass.” He started to leave and stopped. “Be sure to gag him … I don’t want him contaminating your minds with his blasphemy.”

The Leader looked up expectantly as Gull entered his suite. “Well?”

Gull shook his head. “He refused to accept atonement, Leader,” Gull reported sadly. “I made the offer several times and he refused each time.”

“You did all you could,” The Leader said understandingly. “Redemption is a gift that some simply refuse no matter how often it is offered. I’m sad to say that it appears that Beta is one of those people.” The Leader stood and walked stiffly to the window and stared absently down at the parking lot silently for several minutes. Top Hat – or what was left of him – had been chained to the flagpole as a warning to other potential assassins. He remained in a catatonic state, oblivious to his surroundings, drooling all over himself. Finally, The Leader sighed and turned to face Gull. “He’s beyond redemption, I’m afraid. He needs to be punished, and you are the instrument of divine retribution.”

“Yes, Leader,” Gull said.

“Make him suffer … give him a good taste of the tortures he’ll suffer in Hell,” The Leader said.

“It will be done as you order, Leader,” Gull assured him.

“I want him kept alive for a public execution,” The Leader added.

“I can do that, Leader,” Gull promised.

“I’ll have a pyre prepared at the high school football stadium,” The Leader continued. “Only fire can purify him now.”

“Just like the Phoenix,” Gull said.

“Exactly,” The Leader nodded. “He must be punished and then the fire will cleanse his soul of impurities and allow it to rise from the ashes pure once more.”

“One more thing,” The Leader said. “I don’t ever want to hear him utter another word.”

Gull smiled. “That can be arranged, Leader.”

“I don’t think Top Hat is going to last much longer,” The Leader said as Gull prepared to leave the room. “He hasn’t eaten or drunk a thing since you finished with him. I don’t think he even knows where he is.”

“No sir, he doesn’t,” Gull agreed.

“You did a good job breaking him,” The Leader said. “Do the same with Beta – break him.”

“Remove his gag,” Gull ordered as he entered the torture chamber. One of the assistants immediately hurried to carry out Gull’s order. The chief Enforcer slowly circled around the exam table examining the work his men had done in shaving Beta down. As usual, they had done an excellent job leaving the prisoner totally smooth from head to toe.

Beta opened and closed his mouth several times once the gag was removed, following Gull around the room with his eyes. “So, he’s turned me over to you,” Beta observed, a slight quaver in his voice.

“What did you expect?” Gull asked conversationally. “You had every opportunity to atone for your sins and refused them.”

“At least get it over with quickly,” Beta said. “You can do at least that much for me.”

“No, no I really couldn’t,” Gull assured his prisoner. “I have my orders – you’re to be returned to The Leader alive when I’m done with you. He’s got something special planned especially for you and all the Brothers are going to watch.” He smiled down at his prisoner. His grin spread wider when Beta began urinating all over himself in fear.

It took two hours for Gull to oversee the extraction of each of Beta’s teeth. After removing Beta’s front teeth himself, he had supervised each of his assistants as they took turns with the dental extractors. He personally used the soldering iron on Beta’s ruined mouth to cauterize his bleeding gums. By the time he was done, it was almost impossible for the prisoner to make any intelligible sounds. Even his pained sobs seemed garbled.

Gull soothingly stroked Beta’s shaven scalp. “I know what’s going through your mind,” he said cheerfully. “The pain you’ve experienced so far is unbelievable, can it get any worse?” Gull patted his victim’s bald head playfully. “Of course it can – this is only the beginning. We’ve got more, much more planned for you before you lose your balls.”

Gull was true to his word about the amount of torment he had planned for his prisoner. It took him ten days to complete his regimen of torture. Beta remained bound the whole time in order to prevent him from attempting suicide during the periods he wasn’t subjected to torment. Gull staggered his torture sessions – sometimes giving Beta as much as thirty-six hours between sessions. At other times, Beta received less than an hour between separate sessions.

Although Gull’s Enforcer unit numbers had grown to thirty men, only six of them were delegated specifically as torture specialists. In Beta’s case, all six were given the opportunity to practice their skills as Gull looked on approvingly. Pliers, vice grips, nutcrackers, and even a small hammer were used by the assistants to break every bone in each of Beta’s hands one by one. Gull applauded their inventiveness in their choice of tools and methods of inflicting the greatest amount of pain while causing the least amount of potentially life-threatening trauma.

Hamilton “Ham” Hudson, one of Gull’s torture assistants, approached him between sessions on Beta one morning to offer a suggestion for a new punishment. Ham was a short, skinny rat-faced teen with the face of a choirboy. “I was thinking we could suspend the subject from the ceiling and apply a harness to his ball sac and hang weights from it,” he suggested.

“Interesting idea, Ham,” Gull said. “How would you suspend the prisoner from the ceiling?”

Grinning, Ham produced a webbing harness from a backpack. “It’s a parachute harness,” he explained. “Strap this on the subject and we could leave him hanging from the ceiling for days with no real serious side-effects.”

Gull took the parachute harness from his assistant and turned it over in his hands, examining it as he thought. Finally, he grinned and nodded. “Okay, give it a shot,” he said. “How long will you need to get everything prepared?”

“If I get right to work on this and a couple other ideas I have, I can be ready by tomorrow,” Ham said.

“Good – I’ll give the orders to let the prisoner rest for the rest of the day,” Gull said. “If you need any assistance, feel free to draft as many of the worker slaves as you need.”

The next morning, Ham proudly led Gull into the gymnasium. He had had a team of slaves remove one of the basketball nets and hung the parachute harness from the hand-cranked winches that had been used to raise and lower the net. Several equipment carts stood near the harness. Gull watched silently as Beta was brought in and strapped into the harness. Ham checked the straps and then ordered the harness lowered so that Beta ended up sitting on the floor. Then, he buckled leather bonds around each of Beta’s ankles and thighs. Gull watched in mild confusion as Ham produced four webbing straps and hooked them to the ankle and thigh restraints. The other end of the four straps was hooked to D-rings on the parachute harness.

Stepping back, Ham ordered the slaves to start raising the harness. As the slaves cranked the winch handles that raised the prisoner, Gull began smiling in understanding. The webbing straps between Beta’s legs and the parachute harness kept him in a sitting position with his legs stretched out in front of him. When Beta was suspended at chest height, Ham ordered the slaves to stop cranking the winches.

Gull watched as Ham took a small leather strap from one of the carts and buckled it tightly around Beta’s scrotum. He attached long nylon straps to small D-rings on either side of the leather strap. Several small weights were attached to the free end of the thin nylon straps. Since the weights were still lying on the floor, there wasn’t any strain on Beta’s scrotum yet. Once the weights were in place, Ham took a short, thick metal rod from the table. Velcro straps dangled from a wide, rectangular plastic base plate. Gull easily recognized the metal rod as an improvised dildo and nodded in satisfaction as Ham forced the rod into Beta’s ass, ignoring the cries of discomfort from the prisoner.

“The dildo is a nice touch,” Gull called out as Ham secured the Velcro straps around Beta’s waist.

“It’s kind of crude, sir,” Ham replied modestly. “But, I think you’ll agree it will get the job done.”

Taking a long, thin metal rod from the cart, Ham got one of the other Enforcers to assist him as he inserted it into Beta’s dick. About six inches of the rod protruded from the mushroom head when Ham was finished.

“Now, comes the real surprise,” Ham said proudly, lifting a hand cranked field phone from the bottom shelf of one of the carts. He uncoiled two lengths of wire and attached them to the end of the makeshift dildo before stepping back and ordering the slaves to raise the prisoner. Beta’s groans increased when he was lifted high enough to raise the weights off the floor. Ham waited until the weights were about a foot and a half off the floor before he ordered the slaves to stop cranking the winches.

Ham turned to Gull. “Would you like the honors, sir?” He asked, waving his hand in the direction of the field phone. “Right now, the prisoner only has ten pounds of weights attached to his balls,” Ham explained as Gull stepped up to the cart. “But, we can always increase the amount of weight.”

Nodding in admiration for the work Ham had done, Gull gave the handle on the field phone one complete turn. The result was instantaneous – Beta shrieked and jerked as the electrical charge from the phone’s generator jolted him. His involuntary jerking made the weights swing like a pendulum increasing the pressure on his balls.

“Excellent job,” Gull said.

“Thank you, sir,” the rat-faced Ham beamed. “With the field phone, you get a certain amount of control of the charge delivered to the subject,” he explained proudly. “For instance, you can give the handle several rapid cranks, or pause between each crank.”

“Ingenious,” Gull said. “And the metal rod in his dick?”

“The wires to the generator can be attached to that if we get tired of shocking his ass,” Ham said. “I thought a little change of pace for us would be appreciated.” He held up another set of wires attached to evil-looking alligator clamps. “And, we can use these and attach the clamps to his nipples, ear lobes, the head of his dick – pretty much anywhere on his body,” Ham added proudly.

“You did fantastic work, Ham,” Gull praised. “I’ll make sure you come to The Leader’s attention.”

Beta’s tortured shrieks mixed with the sadistic laughter of Gull’s assistants, echoing through the cavernous gymnasium. The Enforcers took their turns operating the crank on the field phone, sending painful electrical charges through their victim. As usual, Gull found himself aroused by the cries of pain and humiliation from his victim. Gull took notice of one of the slaves standing silently by the wall at the end of the gym. The slave had a tight, compact build and slight, almost effeminate features – just the kind of young man that Gull found most appealing. He strode over to the line of slaves.

The first thing Gull noticed when he stood directly in front of the slave were his liquid brown, puppy dog eyes. Then, he took in the bow-shaped mouth and smooth, unblemished skin. Glancing down the slave’s naked body, Gull was pleased to see the young man quickly place his hands behind his back. He had clearly learned that no slave to the Brotherhood was permitted to hide his genitals. Like all slaves, this one had been castrated. Gull briefly wondered whether the slave’s circumcised dick had always been small, or whether his castration had caused that much shrinkage – either way, it didn’t really matter much to him. The other thing Gull noticed was that the slave’s scalp was covered with golden fuzz rather than shaved smooth. Smiling, Gull placed his hand on the back of the slave’s head and led him from the gymnasium.

In his office, Gull slowly stripped out of his robes, enjoying the look of nervousness in the slave’s big brown eyes. Free of his robes, Gull slowly circled the slave standing in the middle of the office. Finished his examination, Gull went to the sideboard and filled a basin with water and placed it on a table in front of the slave.

“Your head isn’t shaved smooth, slave,” Gull said in an amiable tone.

“I – I’m s-sorry, sir,” the slave said softly, his voice trembling in fear.

“Relax, I’m in a good mood today,” Gull said. “If I wanted you punished, you’d already be screaming in pain.” The slave flinched in fear when Gull reached out and stroked his head. “I bet you cried when your head was shaved, didn’t you? You were probably so proud of your pretty blond hair.” The slave dropped his eyes, wondering how Gull knew so much about him. He didn’t remember the Enforcer being present when he was processed as a slave. “Do you know what that basin of water is for, slave?”

“Y-you’re gonna shave my head,” the slave whimpered.

“Oh no! I’m not going to do that,” Gull said, smiling at the look of hope that sprang up in the slave’s brown eyes. “You’re the one who’s going to shave your own head. I’m going to watch.”

Gull produced a can of shaving crème and several surgical prep razors and sprawled in his overstuffed wing chair, his legs spread wide watching as the slave timidly coated the golden fuzz on his head with white foam. The Enforcer slowly rubbed his hand over his groin, enjoying the look of humiliation and fear on the slave’s face as he lifted a razor from the table and began shaving his own head smooth again. His already erect cock twitched as a crystal clear drop of precum appeared at the tip of the mushroom head.

“You did a good job,” Gull said kindly when the slave had finished. “Now, lather up again and shave again.”

Tears filled the slave’s eyes as he obeyed Gull’s orders and spread more lather over his already smooth scalp. When he had finished scraping the foam away for the second time, Gull pointed at a spot between his legs. The slave shyly moved to the indicated spot and sank to his knees. He knew what the Enforcer expected of him. He looked up at Gull and waited for his orders.

“You know what to do,” Gull encouraged.

The slave leaned forward, his mouth opening wide. Gull sighed with pleasure as the slave’s warm, wet mouth engulfed his hard cock. Gull languidly reached up and began to lightly rub his right nipple, a broad smile stretching across his face. Suddenly, the slave’s gentle fingers were timidly reaching up to fondle Gull’s nipples. Moaning in pleasure, Gull moved his hand out of the way and enjoyed the feel of the slave’s fingers kneading his nipples.

Gull let his head loll back and delighted in how good the slave was at using his mouth. His breathing increased as the excitement built in his balls. His dick twitched once and then again with more intensity as his balls prepared to empty their load. Instead of slowing down, the slave increased his efforts and even kept his lips locked tightly around Gull’s cock when it exploded over and over in his mouth.

Gull sighed in pleasure. “You’re good,” he said softly as he patted the slave’s head lightly. “You’re very good.” He stroked the slave’s cheek, letting his hand linger there. “And, so pretty. I’m sure you always used to hear what a pretty-faced boy you were with those delicate features and those big, brown puppy dog eyes. What Tribe did we take you from?”

“I – I wasn’t with a Tribe, sir.”

“Awww, you were s Stray,” Gull teased. “Such a good puppy shouldn’t stay a Stray. It’s about time you had a collar and found yourself a home. I think I’ll keep you.”

When Gull returned to the gymnasium later that afternoon, the slave by his side was wearing a diaper and a collar around his neck. The wires from the field phone were now attached to the metal rod protruding from Beta’s cock. At Gull’s return, the Enforcers stopped turning the crank on the phone and turned to look expectantly at their boss.

“Look what I found,” Gull called cheerfully. “I found a stray puppy who needed a collar. In fact, that’s just what I named him – Pup.” He strode across the gym, the newly renamed Pup walking obediently to heel. “I know I don’t have to tell anyone here, but make sure the word gets out – anyone who mistreats my Pup will end up a guest in the torture chamber downstairs.”

Gull examined Beta’s balls. During his absence, more weight had been added. The prisoner had twenty pounds of weight suspended from his sac, which was clearly stretched slightly. All the jerking had caused serious bruising, leaving the tortured sac black and blue already. Gull gave the weights a swing, causing Beta’s constant groaning to increase.

“Ohhhh, that seems like it hurts,” Gull said in mock sympathy. He turned to his Enforcers. “Doesn’t it look like that really hurts, guys?” Gull turned to face his assistants, who all nodded and giggled like a pack of hyenas as they eagerly voiced their assent.

“I guess we could take the weights off his balls,” Gull said. “That would relieve the pressure, I suppose. But, I bet Beta’s balls would still hurt like hell.”

Rat-faced Ham nodded in agreement. “Yeah, even with the pressure off his balls, they’re bound to ache like crazy.”

“Well, I guess the only way to remove the pain is to lop off those sore balls,” Gull shrugged. Suddenly, he was all business as he pointed to a tall, acne-scarred Enforcer. “Tie his balls off like I showed you. We’re gonna play a game and the winner gets to cut those bruised balls off.”

Twenty minutes later, Beta’s stretched and bruised scrotum had been spray painted fluorescent orange. Gull handed each of his Enforcers two darts each and explained that whoever managed to get his darts to stick in each of Beta’s balls in a single round won the right to use the hedge clippers to lop the prisoner’s balls off. To add a little more excitement to the game, Gull had one of the slaves pull the weights to one side and swing them from side to side like a pendulum.

One by one, the red-robed Enforcers took their mark, aimed and threw their darts. On the first round, only Ham managed to get one of his darts to stick in Beta’s left ball. His other dart missed entirely. Laughing, Ham retrieved his dart and hurried back to take his place in line for his next turn.

It took the maniacally laughing Enforcers nine rounds before the pock-faced Enforcer managed to sink each of his darts into Beta’s ravaged balls. His success was met with cheers and backslapping from his companions. Gull ceremoniously handed over the large-bladed shears to the pock-faced teen, who was grinning self-consciously at his success.

“Go get ‘em, Lou!” Ham shouted to the pock-faced Enforcer. “You can do it with one blow.”

Taking the hedge clippers from Gull, Lou experimentally opened and closed them several times. The blades made a crisp, clean cutting sound as Lou worked them. In the echoing confines of the cavernous gym, the sound made by the blades had an ominous quality. The sound of the clippers permeated Beta’s pain-fogged mind, bringing him back to clarity for the first time in hours.

“Nunnngh,” Beta’s ruined mouth tried to form the words he needed in order to beg for his balls to be spared. He jerked and tried to kick his legs as the grinning Lou approached with the hedge clippers opened wide.

Despite Beta’s frantic struggles, Lou was able to take his place behind the prisoner and slide the open blades of the clippers between the two sets of wire wraps spaced about an inch apart on Beta’s scrotum. Lou took a deep breath and brought the hedge clipper blades together with a powerful thrust. The sound of Beta’s balls hitting the gym floor with a meaty thunk was drowned out by the piercing animal scream that escaped from his cracked lips.

“Good job, Lou,” Gull called out. “Now, get him down and back to the chamber. Strap him down on the exam table. See to it that he gets some painkillers and food and water for the next couple of days. He needs to get some of his strength back.”

Three days later, Gull watched as The Brotherhood filed into the high school football stadium just before dusk. There was an atmosphere of festivity among the Brothers. The atmosphere was aided by the scent of huge sides of beef, dozens and dozens of chicken, and even whole pigs roasting over open fires in the field outside the stadium. The Brothers eyed the huge tarp suspended between two poles sunk into the ground at center field and wondered what was hidden behind it. Gull watched the Brothers filing into the stadium for a bit longer before turning and seeking out The Leader who was waiting in the locker room to make his entrance.

“You’re sure he’s not able to talk?” The Leader asked as Gull entered.

“He can make some sounds, but there’s no way he’ll make any comprehensible sounds,” Gull assured his boss.

“How’d you manage that?” The Leader asked. “Did you cut his tongue out?”

“Nothing quite that drastic,” Gull answered. “I didn’t want to weaken him too much with that kind of blood loss.” Gull shook his head modestly. “All we had to do was force his mouth open and apply a white-hot branding iron to his tongue.”

“Effective,” The Leader said, impressed with Gull’s ingenuity. “And, the other…?”

“All set up and waiting for your signal, Leader,” Gull assured him.

“Excellent, excellent,” The Leader sighed happily. “Let’s get this show underway, then.”

A hush fell over the Brotherhood as The Leader, his long, carefully brushed auburn locks flowing behind him, strode across the football field. By the time he reached the twenty-yard line, one of the Brothers had begun the chant of ‘Lea-DER, Lea-DER!’ The single voice quickly became the unified voice of the entire Brotherhood chanting “Lea-DER!’ and stomping their feet. Climbing onto the platform that had been erected for this event, The Leader stood in the center of the platform smiling and nodding his head in appreciation to the crowd.

Smiling and nodding, The Leader allowed the chanting to continue for a full five minutes before raising his hands high above his head to signal for silence. The chanting continued for another couple of minutes before it finally died out.

“My Brothers,” The Leader called out, his voice easily carrying across the stands. “We are gathered here in lamentation and in celebration. We are here to lament the loss of faith of one of our Brothers.”

“No!” The assembled Brothers called out.

“It is sadly true,” The Leader called out. “He even tried to lead other Brothers astray, urging them to do harm to me and deny their faith at the same time!”

“Death to the traitor!” Someone screamed. The cry quickly became a chant.

The Leader brought order to the Brotherhood. “Remember, my Brothers, the Phoenix is a symbol of redemption and renewal. We are the Followers of the Phoenix – we would be untrue to our faith and to the Phoenix if we did not do everything in our power to redeem our fallen Brother.” The Leader paused, watching as the Brothers murmured among themselves, nodding their heads at the apparent sense of The Leader’s words. “You all know that redemption is not possible without atonement and atonement can be achieved only through sacrifice and pain. The Fallen One has experienced physical punishment at the hands of Gull and still he refuses to admit his blasphemy and seek redemption.”

“Who is the Fallen One?” Someone from the back of the stadium shouted.

The Leader sighed theatrically. “That is, I am afraid, the most painful part of all,” The Leader replied. “The Fallen One is none other than Beta. Yes, Beta – my right hand man.”

Stunned silence fell over the Brothers in the stands. The Leader nodded to Gull, who took his cue and strode out to center field to drop the tarp to expose Beta strapped to a stake atop the pyre mound. Gull knew that Beta’s injuries weren’t apparent at a distance. His bruises were carefully covered in makeup. From a distance, it even looked like he still had his hair. Gull had personally painted Beta’s head with blue paint to simulate his dyed buzzcut. Beta’s mutilated groin was covered in a thick, white diaper. Gull knew that none of the Brothers could tell that Beta’s diaper were thoroughly soaked in kerosene.

Gull made a show of pleading with Beta to beg forgiveness and atone for his sins. To the Brothers in the stands, he looked convincing as he gestured. When Gull fell to his knees, some of the Brothers felt their eyes fill with tears at his apparent torment. Though none of the Brothers could hear Gull’s words, they each imagined the impassioned plea he must be making.

Climbing to his feet, Gull turned away from Beta, shaking his head sadly and wiping tears from his eyes. Seeing that gesture, many of the Brothers in the stands began openly weeping over Gull’s pain. Gull returned to stand by The Leader’s platform, apparently beside himself at his failure to convince Beta to return to the fold. The Leader bent down to comfort his follower.

“Nice touch, wiping your eyes and pretending to cry,” The Leader whispered.

“I wasn’t pretending,” Gull whispered back with a conspiratorial grin. “Those gasoline fumes made my eyes water.”

“Is everything ready?” The Leader asked.

“Yes, it is,” Gull confirmed. “I checked when I dropped to my knees.”

Nodding, as if reassuring Gull that he had done his best, The Leader rose to his feet and faced The Brotherhood again. “You’ve seen it for yourselves,” The Leader cried out. “Even the sight of Gull on his knees begging him to return to the fold has had no effect on Beta.” The Leader turned his face to the sky and cried out. “What is to be done with this Fallen One?”

“Burn him!” The Brothers cried back.

The Leader squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head from side to side as if he was in pain. “No, no … I cannot forget Beta’s loyalty,” he cried. “Oh, Great Phoenix … why must such a burden be laid on my shoulders? Will you not take this bitter task from me?” One of the Enforcers grabbed a torch and began moving towards Beta. The Leader spun, his hand flying up. “Stop! Don’t go any further on penalty of death, I command it!”

The Enforcer with the torch looked around in confusion and then, lowering the torch, he slowly returned to his original position by the chain link fence in front of the stands.

The Leader turned back to face the Brothers in the stands, his hands grabbing for the collar of his golden robes. Suddenly, he screamed out as if in great pain and tore his robes open, exposing his bare chest. “I cannot do it,” he cried. “I cannot order the execution of one of the first apostles of the Phoenix! Even though he has fallen, who am I to say that the Great Phoenix did not ordain it? Only the Phoenix can pass this judgement! Brothers, I beg your forgiveness for my weakness.” The Leader pointed to Gull. “Go! Take some of your men and turn our wayward Brother loose. His fate rests with the Phoenix, none here shall harm him.”

Gull reached up to grab The Leader’s hands and kissed them fervently, thanking The Leader for sparing Beta. The Brothers leapt to their feet cheering and screaming The Leader’s praises. Leaning down, The Leader winked at Gull and smirked. If only his dad, ol’ Howie Jefferson, could see how he had his followers eating out of the palm of his hand. He hoped the old bastard was roasting in the deepest recesses of Hell.

Kissing The Leader’s hand one more time, Gull shouted to his Enforcers to join him. He led the way across the field as the Brothers in the stands cheered The Leader’s compassion. Gull and his followers were about halfway to the stake when Beta let loose with an unearthly scream that brought the cheering to a dead halt.

Suddenly, the diaper covering Beta’s crotch burst into flames and moments later, white-hot flames shot up out of the ground around the pyre. Gull and his Enforcers fell to the ground seemingly stunned. For several long, stunned moments the Brotherhood remained in awed silence.

“It’s divine judgement!” Someone in the stands cried.

“The Phoenix has passed judgement!” Someone else responded excitedly. “It’s just like The Leader said! The Phoenix has passed judgement!” Everyone in the crowd seemed to be babbling all at the same time. Suddenly, one of the Brothers stood and slowly made his way out of the stands and made his way onto the field where he knelt in reverence in front of The Leader’s platform.

“You are truly the anointed of The Phoenix, Leader,” the Brother said. Then, there was another Brother and another. Even some of the slaves were pushing their way onto the field and falling to their knees in awe. And then, the dam burst and the stands emptied as the entire Brotherhood flooded onto the field to drop to their knees around the platform as they praised The Leader and asked for his personal blessing.

Backing away from the crowd, Gull found Ham and pulled him out of earshot. “You did a magnificent job,” Gull said in admiration. “How’d you do it?”

“It was easy,” Ham said proudly. “I went through the science lab supply room and found some magnesium – man, you wouldn’t believe how hot that shit burns.”

Gull rubbed his face, and smiled. “I think I would,” he grinned. “When the pyre went up, it felt like a wall of heat hit me.”

“Oh that, well I added all the rest of the magnesium I found to the base of the pyre to give it a kick,” Ham explained.

“So, how’d you set off Beta’s diaper like you did? That was a great touch.”

“I attached the wires from the field phone to a strip of magnesium,” Ham explained. “Then, I cranked like hell from the other side of the field and whoosh!” Ham grinned back. “With all the kerosene in that diaper, it just needed a good spark to light it up. I had another set of wires leading to the stuff under the pyre and had to switch them over – that’s why there was a delay in the second charge going off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gull said. “I think the delay actually added to the effect. Now, did anyone else help you work this out?”

“No, sir,” Ham shook his head emphatically. “I did just like you said and handled everything by myself. I even used green wires and made sure to pull them back before coming out here. No one else knows a thing.”

“Good,” Gull said. “Keep it that way and you’ll have a special place in The Brotherhood, I guarantee it. On the other hand, breathe a word to anyone else, and I’ll personally make you suffer beyond your darkest imagination.”

Ham’s rat-face drained of color as he assured his boss that he’d never breathe a word to anyone else.

Gull found The Leader in his suite a couple of hours later. “Shouldn’t you be down at the celebration, Leader?”

“No, my presence there would just put a damper on things,” The Leader said. “Let them cut loose and have a good time tonight.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be down there?” Gull asked.

“Did you see them fall to their knees and worship me tonight?” The Leader asked. “If I showed up down there now, they’d all stop celebrating and fall on their knees again.”

“Good point,” Gull admitted.

“Let them relax and have a good time tonight,” The Leader said, thoughtfully. “They’ll probably need tomorrow and the next day to recover.”

“And then?”

“And then, we renew our training schedule,” The Leader said calmly. “We’ll use this town as a base for now. I want to increase our numbers to at least a thousand.”

“And then we march on The City,” Gull said.

“And then we march on The City,” The Leader confirmed.

To be continued…