The Prince Trains a Slave, Part 6

Konrad had done his usual fantastic job – Simon’s hair was neatly trimmed to one length all over his head. His hair was about 2 inches long and styled so that it was just barely off his ears. The highlights were natural and subtle adding depth to the natural light brown of his hair without being obviously artificial. Running my fingers through Simon’s silky hair, I couldn’t help but notice how similar his new style was to the style worn by Brigitta and Konrad.

“Maybe I should have let you bleach his hair as white as yours,” I teased. “He’s pretty much got the exact same style.”

Konrad merely grinned and ran a hand self-consciously over his hair. He was clearly glad to have his hair back and while I far preferred him with his white blonde locks, I had to privately admit that there had been something very exotically appealing about him when his head had been shaved.

“I didn’t think you wanted the highlights to be too dramatic,” Konrad explained walking around Simon. “But, I have to admit that Simon would probably look great with his hair frosted. It’s not a good look for everyone, but I think it would work for him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, trying to picture how that would look on Simon. “Maybe the next time I’ll let you try that. But, for now – I’ve promised all of you an excellent dinner.”

The Castle had an incredible restaurant on the first sublevel below the dance club. Intimate private dining rooms surrounded the main public eating area. All of the waiters wore tight white Speedos, starched white collars and black bow ties, and white cuffs. From the neck down, the waiters were totally hairless, while their medium length hair was impeccably groomed. Konrad confided in me that each of the waiters received a trim once a week to keep their haircuts looking perfectly fresh and neat. As soon as I was recognized, we were led to one of the best private dining rooms. Within minutes of being seated, one of the waiters appeared with a bottle of chilled wine.

As we ate, I told the others about the two new slaves and quickly outlined my plans for their training. Konrad’s eyes twinkled when I told him to expect to have John brought up to the salon to have his wavy mop buzzed off.

“Is there perhaps some ink that needs to be applied to these slaves?” Brigitta asked eagerly, leaning over the table.

“Oh, in John’s case – most definitely,” I grinned. “Nothing too fancy and elaborate, though.”

“Oh no! Of course not,” Brigitta laughed. “He is after all a club slave – his tattoos should all be very simple.” She leaned back to think for a bit. “I think perhaps the word SLAVE across his belly – between his navel and dick.”

“I like the sound of that,” Konrad said.

“Me, too,” I agreed. “Plan on doing that for sure. What else do you have in mind?”

“How about barbed wire or chain bands around his biceps?” Simon suggested.

“Another good suggestion,” I said. “Let’s start with that on him – after he’s had a few cycles of time disorientation.”

*****

Disrupting the sense of time for the two slaves wasn’t really all that difficult since the only lighting either got was artificial. Their meals were always lightly drugged with just enough sedation to keep them docile and sleepy. For the first two actual days, the televisions and speakers in each room remained silent to make it harder for either of the new slaves to determine the passage of time.

Since Simon and I had to return to St. Michael’s during the week, I decided that the slaves should experience the passage of ten days time. By keeping them slightly drugged and controlling their photoperiods by turning the lights off and on as necessary. I made sure that they were ordered to shave as soon as they were awakened, while still too groggy to tell just how much their beards had grown – or in their cases – not grown while they slept.

By the time I returned the following weekend, each slave was unsure of just how much or how little time had passed. The time disorientation and limited human contact was wearing Malcolm down nicely. He craved human contact and social interaction.

Examining the monitors, I didn't have to ask Yoshi how it was going with John. The walls of his cell were covered in spattered food from the numerous times he’d thrown his meals against the walls. Yoshi reported that it had been necessary to shock John several times to keep him under control and keep him sedated.

“Don’t worry, Yoshi,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. “I fully expected John to fight every step of the way. You’ve done a good job with him so far.”

“So what happens next, sir?” Yoshi asked.

“Next, John spends the entire next two weeks asleep,” I said, smiling at the monitor. “That should disorient him even more.” I leaned closer to the screen. “He looks a little dopey, when was he last drugged?”

“About three hours ago, sir,” Yoshi replied.

“Okay, get Sam up here,” I said. “Tell him that it’s time to sedate John and keep him under.” I spun around in the swivel chair and faced Yoshi and pulled a small wrench and handcuff key from my pocket with a broad grin. “I seem to have forgotten to tell you – Malcolm’s blood tests are back.” Yoshi’s head jerked up, his dark eyes expectant. “Come over here,” I said. “Let’s get you out of that chastity belt.”

Yoshi did his best not to run to stand before me. I leaned forward, unlocked the handcuff, and undid the hex screws to remove the cock cuff. Yoshi sighed in delight at having his cock free from its confinement.

“Thank you, sir,” he gushed.

“Now, run back to your room and get dressed in a white jockstrap,” I said. “You can call Sam from your quarters.” I smiled. “Remember, the sooner you finish your tasks and get back here, the sooner you’ll have Malcolm down on his knees in front of you.”

I was surprised when Yoshi returned nearly fifteen minutes later. He had clearly taken the time to clean up a bit. I smiled indulgently as he returned in his fresh white jockstrap, his hair freshly brushed, and stylish. He informed me that Sam was on his way from the clinic and should arriving in just a few moments. Yoshi was so excited that I was almost tempted to take him to Malcolm right away – but waiting was good for a slave’s nature.

As it was, Yoshi didn’t have long to wait – Sam and two jock strap clad slaves arrived about five minutes later with a gurney. I led them immediately to John’s cell, telling Sam to have the sedative ready to administer immediately. As we entered the room, John leapt from his bed and lowered himself on wobbly legs into a crouch as if he planned to attack whoever approached him first. Extending my arm, I showed John the stun gun in my hand and pushed the trigger button, letting the blue-white electrical sparks dance between the electrodes.

“It’s your call, John,” I said calmly. “You can behave yourself and save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain, or you can do it the hard way. You know, I’ll zap your balls.”

John stared angrily at the stun gun in my hand and then at me. I actually thought that he was going to give up and submit to us. Instead, he lunged straight at me, trying to turn the stun gun against me. Even if I hadn’t had backup to help me, it wouldn’t have been a fair fight – John was sluggish and tired. I easily broke his grasp on my wrist and shoved the stun gun right against his balls before pressing the trigger.

The electrical shock threw the slave off his feet and left him writhing on the floor, moaning in agony. The two slaves accompanying Sam moved quickly to grab John and drag him out to the hall to the gurney. They moved effortlessly and had John strapped down in a matter of seconds. Sam was getting ready to inject the sedative when I stopped him.

“Hold off on the sedative,” I said quietly, pulling him away from the gurney. “I want you three to make a little detour first.” I looked over at John strapped down and moaning in pain. “Take him down to the dungeon salon. I think he should be awake when his head is shaved.”

Sam turned and stared at John’s shoulder length wavy mane and smiled. “You’re right – he’d be pissed off to wake up without his precious mane. But, to be strapped into a chair and awake when it’s stripped off of him will really show him his place.”

“Do you think the three of you can handle him without the stun gun?” I asked.

Oh, I’m positive we can get him strapped into the chair with no problem,” Sam grinned. “If those two can’t overpower that punk, they deserve to be sent down to the cleaning staff swabbing out overflowing toilets.”

I glanced over at the two muscular slaves and didn’t have any doubt that not only could they handle John, I was positive they’d enjoy it. “Okay, do it. I’ll contact Konrad and Brigitta and let them know that there’s a slight change in plans.”

“Good work you two,” I told the slaves. “Sam, after you get this slave down to the clinic, take these two up to the staff canteen. Get them whatever food they want and any three personal items they want – put it on my account. I’ll see to your reward later.”

Before entering Malcolm’s room, I stopped at one of the call boxes in the hall and called up to the salon to let Konrad know of the change of plans. I told him that there wasn’t any hurry to get down there since I planned to take a little time with Malcolm before heading down to the dungeon salon.

Malcolm nervously climbed to his feet as Yoshi and I entered the room. He ran trembling fingers through his chin length auburn hair trying to bring some order to its disheveled state.

“Long time no see,” I said in a friendly voice.

“Yes, yes – it has been a while,” Malcolm agreed, his voice trembling as he looked nervously from Yoshi to me.

“I thought you could use a couple of weeks to get used to your new surroundings,” I said. “You know, to give you a chance to relax and accept your new life.” Malcolm didn’t reply – he just looked at me with frightened eyes. I smiled broadly. “It’s time to start training you for your new life, Malcolm. Are you ready?”

“Wh-what do I have to do?” Malcolm asked in a quavering voice.

“Nothing you haven’t done before,” I replied. I stepped aside and made room for Yoshi. “All you have to do is go over to Yoshi and get on your knees and do what comes naturally for you.” I turned to Yoshi. “He’s all yours.”

“I can make him do anything, sir?” Yoshi asked.

“Within reason.”

Yoshi nodded. “I think he should be naked, sir.”

“Then tell him that,” I said, stepping back and leaning against the wall.

“Strip out of your clothes, slave,” Yoshi said directly to Malcolm, who looked at me with pleading eyes.

“You heard the man,” I said, my voice firm.

Malcolm’s lower lip trembled and his eyes grew wet as he looked from me to Yoshi and back again. For a few long moments, nothing happened. Then, Malcolm reached up with trembling hands and removed his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. He paused again and then slid his tight shorts down to stand naked in front of us. He lowered his head in shame and slowly covered his crotch with his shaking hands.

Yoshi snapped his fingers sharply. “Never cover yourself,” Yoshi said firmly. The British slave gave a little know of his head and moved his hands back to his sides. “That’s good. Now, come over here.”

Malcolm moved across the room as if in a trance and without being told again, knelt in front of Yoshi. Swallowing hard, Malcolm reached up and pulled Yoshi’s white jockstrap down to release his already erect cock. Yoshi’s beautiful, heavily veined dick was already dripping precum generously. Malcolm leaned forward; his pink tongue extended and started licking the crystal fluid from the mushroom head of Yoshi’s dick.

I moved over to Malcolm’s bed and eased down onto it, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees as I watched the scene unfold before me. Malcolm’s head moved tentatively at first as he lapped at the sweet fluid. Then, he opened his mouth wide and slid it over Yoshi’s cock. Yoshi sighed deeply as his dick was engulfed by Malcolm’s hot, wet mouth.

Watching, I could see that Malcolm obviously did have quite a bit of experience giving head. I had to admit that he was pretty good, but at the same time, he could be better with improved techniques. But, that was what the training period was all about. Malcolm would be taught new techniques to increase the pleasure he gave to others.

It didn’t take long before Yoshi shot his load into Malcolm’s mouth. While I knew that it had been quite a while since the Japanese slave had been given sexual release, I was disappointed that Malcolm hadn’t controlled the situation better. He should have backed off just enough to heighten Yoshi’s excitement and make him last longer. I made a mental note to make sure his training included learning to make his subject last longer before orgasm. A quick orgasm was the sign of a lazy slave.

“Not bad, not bad,” I said, standing up. “You need to learn to be even better. But, all in all, you didn’t do too badly.” I turned to Yoshi. “What did you think?”

Yoshi pulled his jockstrap up and tucked his package into the pouch. “Well, it certainly felt good, sir,” Yoshi grinned. “But, that was probably more because it’s been so long since my last orgasm, to be honest.”

“Somehow, I thought you’d say that,” I laughed. “Okay, on your feet Malcolm – it’s time to go.” Malcolm scrambled to his feet and started for his clothes. “Leave them where they are,” I said firmly. “You need to get used to not wearing clothes.”

Despite seeing several other slaves totally naked, Malcolm was clearly ill at ease walking along the underground corridors of The Castle. He kept his head bowed so people couldn’t see his face as we headed to the dungeon salon. I decided not to say anything – his posture could easily be fixed with the proper slave collar. Hell, I’d even seen a cervical collar in black up in the leather shop – I nodded to myself as we went along the corridors. A cervical collar was the perfect first collar for Malcolm. That would teach him to keep his head raised and his eyes lowered as a sign of respect.

We had just come to the bottom of the wide stone stairs onto the dungeon proper level when we met Konrad and Brigitta. They both greeted Yoshi and I warmly while looking over Malcolm with interest. From the way Brigitta examined the frightened slave, I could tell that she was sizing him up as a candidate for his inking and piercing skills. Konrad opened the door to the dungeon salon and waved the rest of us inside.

Malcolm gasped at the sight of John strapped totally naked into the old-fashioned barber chair. Once he got over his shock at the sight of the other slave, Malcolm took in the rest of the room and gulped. The floors were polished slate, while the walls were all smooth stone. Recessed lighting illuminated the room, while torches in wall sconces added to the dungeon atmosphere of the room.

“Well,” Konrad called cheerfully, rubbing his hands together as he circled the chair. “It’s not hard to tell who’s going first.” He looked up at me with a grin. “So, what’s it going to be?”

“Take it all off,” I said. “He’s a new slave in training.”

“Like fuck I’m going to be bald!” John snarled.

“Like you have any say in the matter,” Brigitta sneered, pushing her face close to John’s. She reached out and took his right nipple between her fingers and gave it a savage twist. “What are you going to do to stop Konrad, little boy?”

John leaned his head as far forward as he could and spat in Brigitta’s face. “Keep your hands off me, bitch!” He snarled.

Brigitta calmly reached up and wiped the spittle from her face and stared at her open hand in wonder for several hushed moments. Regaining her composure, she raised her hand as if to slap the slave in the chair.

“Brigitta!” I snapped. She turned and stared in anger at me for a moment. I returned her stare measure for measure until she relented and slowly lowered her hand. I want over and laid my hands on her shoulders. “Never act out of anger,” I whispered into her ear. “He is going to be punished and you are going to participate in that punishment. You have my word.” Brigitta blinked a couple of times and then nodded in agreement. “Now, why don’t you go over to the sink and wash your face.”

“You can’t….” John started to say.

I grabbed him by the throat and squeezed just enough to let him know I was serious but not enough to cut off his wind. “Shut up,” I said evenly. “It’s time for you to understand something. I can do anything I want with you and you will do it or suffer the consequences. By the time I’m done with you, you will do everything and anything you’re told to do – even if it means dancing on your toes while dressed in a pink tutu.”

“Like hell I will,” John snarled, but his voice was noticeably lacking in conviction.

I released his throat and moved my hand around his genitals. “The last time anyone said that to me, they lost everything between their legs,” I said my voice low and even. John tried to compose his face into a mask of defiance, but there was a flash of fear in his eyes as he searched mine trying to decide whether I was being honest with him. I nodded my head slowly in confirmation. “Believe it – and believe that you are not far from sharing that fate.”

I gave his package a squeeze and twist before letting go and walking over to Konrad. I took him to the far corner of the room and told him what I wanted sent down to us. The young barber grinned when he heard what I wanted and hurried to the house phone to place the orders. While he was doing that, I went over to Brigitta.

“Calm and composed now?” I asked.

“I am sorry about before,” she replied.

“Don’t be – your reaction was natural,” I told her. “But, it’s not a good idea to let a slave see you react in immediate anger. Keep the anger inside you and come up with an appropriate punishment. Now, are you ready to help in his punishment?”

“What have you planned already?” Brigitta asked full of curiosity.

“Oh, you’ll see,” I promised. “But, your part is right up your alley. Are you set up to do tongue piercings here?”

Brigitta smiled. “But, of course. Each salon facility is always totally equipped to do whichever piercings are necessary.”

“Then get your stuff ready – I want three studs in his tongue,” I said. “As soon as the other things arrive here, you get to do your magic on him.” Brigitta’s lupine smile matched my own.

Within twenty minutes everything I had ordered arrived. The slave who delivered everything was openly curious, staring inquisitively at the naked slave in the barber chair. He delayed as long as he dared before handing me the receipt to show he had delivered everything on time.

I took the receipt form from him and made a show of studying it while he continued to stare at John in the chair. “There’s something wrong here,” I said.

The slave spun around, his naturally big brown eyes growing even larger in fear of being punished. I looked the slave over – he was small and slender with short, dark brown hair and a fringe that fell slightly over his brow. “I got everything on the list I was given, sir, and got down here as fast as I could,” the little slave stammered.

“Oh that part’s okay,” I said. “The thing is that there isn’t a blank on here to indicate that I wanted you to stick around in case I require additional things delivered. Keeping you here would be far more efficient than sending for another delivery slave.” I pretended to study the receipt again and shrugged. “Look, you just wait here while I call down to your dispatcher and let him know that I’m holding you over.”

“Yes, sir!” The little slave grinned.

“What’s your name?”

“Mackenzie, sir.”

“Okay Mackenzie, make yourself comfortable,” I said as I went to the phone to clear his delay with the dispatcher. By the time I got off the phone, Brigitta had already started – she had placed a thick leather strap around John’s forehead and the headrest of the chair to keep the slave from moving. She had placed a clamp on his nose to force him to open his mouth before grabbing his tongue with needle nose vice grip pliers. Konrad was holding the pliers, keeping John’s tongue pulled as far out of his mouth as possible.

I picked up the phone again and called my suite, suggesting that Simon hurry down to the dungeon salon. Turning around, I studied the reactions of the two slaves watching the events. Mackenzie was showing a bulge in his tight white shorts as he watched what was happening to John with interest. Malcolm, on the other hand, was staring at the scene with a look of horror in his eyes. His face had gone pale as he watched John’s pathetic struggles while his tongue was being pierced. I knew what was going through Malcolm’s mind – what was happening to John was going to happen to him when it was his turn to occupy the chair. Just then, the door opened and Simon poked his head into the room.

“Is he the new slave that’s been such a problem?” Simon whispered when he slipped up next to me. He was dressed in navy blue shorts and a white polo shirt, looking cute enough to devour right there on the post.

“He’s the one,” I confirmed. “He spit in Brigitta’s face earlier. You’re just in time to see him punished.”

I was taken aback by the flash of anger that crossed Simon’s face. “Make him pay for that,” Simon hissed angrily.

“Chill out, Simon,” I said soothingly. “You know I’m not going to let him get away with something like that.”

“It is finished,” Brigitta said, stepping away from the chair and turning to me.

“Step one is finished,” I corrected picking up the box Mackenzie had delivered. Konrad smoothly moved up to the side of the chair holding a chrome tray. I placed the box on the tray and faced John, who had clamped his jaws closed again and was staring back at me with a mixture of defiance and fear. “You’re having some problems adjusting to your new situation, John,” I said coldly. “You think that you’re still someone of status. You’re not. You have absolutely no status at all other than that which we bestow on you here. You are a slave – get used to that fact.”

“I ain’t no one’s slave,” John murmured through clenched teeth.

I opened the box and removed a soft plastic mouth guard similar to the ones worn by athletes like boxers and football players. This one was designed to cover both the upper and lower teeth. “You’re going to learn that every one of your actions has consequences. When you do something good, you are rewarded. However, when you misbehave – as you did by spitting on Brigitta – then you will be punished.”

I opened the jar of cayenne paste and began spreading it over the upper and lower sides of the mouth guard. Without looking at either of the guard slaves, I ordered them to get John’s mouth open. I was impressed with how they managed to get his mouth open – one of them pinched his nostrils closed and the other grabbed both of John’s nipples and twisted them violently. Their efforts worked – John’s mouth opened in a piercing scream and I was able to slide the mouth guard into place with no problem at all.

“Now, get his mouth closed,” I ordered. Tears flowed uncontrollably from John’s eyes as the cayenne paste burned the inside of his mouth and he frantically tried to spit the offending plastic from his mouth. The guard slaves forced John’s mouth closed. I stepped aside to let Brigitta apply Super Glue to John’s lips and press them together as Konrad applied two large binder clips to John’s lips to keep them closed and allow the glue to bond his lips together.

Turning to look at Sam, Malcolm and Mackenzie, I was amused by their very different reactions. Mackenzie watched John struggle with open amazement and a little amusement on his smooth face. Malcolm, on the other hand, sat slumped in his chair with silent tears streaming down his face. I was almost tempted to go over to comfort him and explain that John’s fate wasn’t going to be his. But, I thought the fear he was experiencing and the eventual relief he’d experience later when he discovered that he was only going to receive a haircut was a good object lesson for him. Sam, standing off to one side of the chairs was nodding his agreement with the punishment that John was receiving.

When John’s struggles died down from exhaustion, I gave Konrad the sign that he could begin his work. Konrad’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he came up close to me and whispered, “Have you seen how excited Mackenzie is?”

I smiled. “Even those tight shorts can’t keep that pecker of his contained,” I chuckled.

“Would you mind if I let him buzz John’s pubes off?” Konrad asked. “He’s been a good boy so far and I think it would be a nice reward.”

I glanced from Konrad over to Mackenzie. The little delivery slave’s erection was clearly outlined under his tight white shorts. They already had a significant wet spot all around the head of his dick. “Is that all there is to it – rewarding a cute, little slave for being a good delivery boy?” I asked slyly.

Konrad blushed and looked away. “Well, I have been thinking it would be nice to have an apprentice,” he admitted. “Someone who could sweep up and make sure that everything is clean.”

“And the fact that he’s so damned cute has absolutely no impact on your decision?” I asked.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt,” Konrad grinned sheepishly.

“This is your patch,” I said. “It’s your decision.”

“Thanks,” Konrad whispered before going over to Mackenzie.

I watched as he leaned down over the little slave and whispered to him. Mackenzie went bolt upright with excitement as he heard Konrad’s offer. I was sure his facial muscles would be sore later from the way he was grinning so broadly. Mackenzie took the Wahl clippers from Konrad in trembling fingers and went to work removing the massive curling bush from John’s groin. The whole time he was working, Mackenzie’s grin spread from ear to ear. Even as excited and inexperienced as he was, Mackenzie did a very good job of reducing John’s badge of manhood to stubble.

I leaned over to Simon. “What do you think of Mackenzie?” I whispered.

“I think Konrad is sweet on him,” Simon said. “I can’t blame him, either. He’s cute.”

“As cute as you?” I teased.

Simon pretended to study the little slave before turning to me with a grin. “Almost, but not quite,” he giggled.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Konrad says he’d like to have an apprentice like Mackenzie.” I pulled Simon closer to me and played with his silky hair. “And, I think you wouldn’t mind having a little playmate around,” I said, giving Simon a knowing look. I placed my index finger against Simon’s lips before he could protest. “I’ll make arrangements to have him transferred over to me by the end of the day.”

Simon’s grin as he hugged me with all his might was worth whatever cash it would cost to buy Mackenzie from The Castle. I turned my attention back to the chair to see that Konrad had already finished shaving John’s entire crotch – much to the slave’s evident dismay. He was already taking the straight razor to John’s hairy chest – that’s the last time John will ever see any hair on his torso, I thought smugly to myself.

Wiping the last of the lather from John’s chest, Konrad put the straight razor on the counter and picked up his heavy Oster clippers. He held them up in front of John’s face and turned them on, filling the room with the ominous, no-nonsense buzzing. “Say good-bye to all that wavy hair,” Konrad teased.

John shook his head, trying to protest as Konrad placed the clippers against his forehead and pushed them straight back. Sheets of wavy light brown hair fell away from the hungry blades of the clippers. Some of the shorn locks slid onto John’s bare shoulders while the rest tumbled to his lap and the floor. I turned my attention to Mackenzie, who was watching John’s shearing with open delight.

It didn’t take long for Konrad to reduce John’s flowing, shoulder-length wavy mane to stubble. The slave bound in the chair was covered with clumps and piles of his shorn hair. I studied his face. Tears were trickling down his cheeks as Konrad covered his head in white lather. There was dejection in John’s eyes, but there was still a hint of defiance in them as well.

“Remove his eyebrows as well,” I called across the room. Malcolm hissed in surprise, his head snapping around to look at me in frightful wonder. Mackenzie just grinned at John as if had been expecting the order from me. Konrad just nodded and slathered the shaving crème over each of the slave’s eyebrows before going to work with his straight razor. He started with John’s eyebrows first and then continued over the rest of the slave’s head.

I continued to study John’s face, as his head was rendered totally smooth. The defiance was still there, but the fear that I really could do anything to him that I wanted was beginning to overpower that remaining flicker of defiance. He’d break – it would take some work, but at the very moment I knew that the slave would eventually break as he realized and eventually came to understand that he was helpless.

As Konrad wiped the last traces of white lather from John’s head, I turned to Sam. “Shoot him up,” I ordered.

Sam produced a hypodermic needle of sedative and going to the barber chair, swabbed John’s arm with an alcohol wipe before jabbing the needle into a vein. Before I could even ask how long it would take for the sedative to have effect, John’s eyes glazed and his head began to loll from side to side. He began blinking, trying to keep his eyes open, but the blinking became slower and slower until his eyes stayed closed and his head fell back against the headrest.

“Let’s get him out of the chair and onto the gurney,” Sam called to the two guard slaves. They jumped to their task and quickly had John’s sleeping body out of the chair and strapped onto the gurney. Sam bent over the slave’s sleeping form, checking his breathing and pulse. “He’s fine,” he announced. “We can keep him out for as long as you want.”

“Good job,” I told him. “Get him down to the clinic and I’ll be down there tomorrow. Keep him sedated though.”

“As you wish,” Sam said. He opened the door to the salon and directed the gurney out of the room.

I stood and turned to Malcolm who was trembling in terror. “Okay,” I called cheerfully. “It’s your turn to get in the chair.”

Licking his lips, Malcolm slowly turned his head in my direction, his eyes wide and round in fear as he ran shaking fingers through his mane of thick, auburn hair. His quivering lips tried to form words, but nothing came out.

“Mackenzie,” I called, “help guide Malcolm to the chair.” I turned back to Malcolm. “You really don’t want to disobey my orders do you?” I asked. “You’ve seen what happens to slaves who misbehave,” I added. Crying softly, Malcolm rose on tottering legs and allowed Mackenzie to guide him over to the chair. I watched as he climbed into it like it was an electric chair. “I think Malcolm is going to behave, Konrad. The straps won’t be necessary. You will behave, won’t you Malcolm.”

“Y-ye-yes,” Malcolm managed to squeak, his voice quavering and cracking.

“Good boy,” I praised him. “You can begin, Konrad.”

Malcolm closed his eyes, fully expecting the clippers to ravage his mane like they had John’s. He clearly didn’t expect to feel Konrad pull a comb through his hair and begin snipping it off with scissors. Konrad worked quickly and efficiently, reducing the bulk and length of Malcolm’s hair. He and I had agreed earlier on a very neat classic taper style for Malcolm that was reminiscent of a British schoolboy’s style from the past. The sides and back were neatly tapered with the longer top carefully blended into the shorter hair. Konrad worked gel through Malcolm’s hair before creating a high right-hand part and combing the slave’s hair back off of his face.

“Well, what do you think?” Konrad asked when he was finished.

I studied the slave in the chair. With his fresh haircut, Malcolm looked even more innocent than he did before. “Konrad, what can I say? It’s perfect – you are a true artist,” I said. I walked over to the chair and gently brushed away some of the tears on Malcolm’s cheek. “I know you were frightened to get into the chair,” I said quietly. “I know you thought that you’d receive the same treatment as John.” Malcolm looked up at me with frightened, puppy dog eyes. “I want you to remember something – it’s very important. Slaves who behave are treated well and rewarded. Slaves who misbehave are punished. So far you have behaved and been a good slave.”

I turned the chair to face the mirror so Malcolm could see his new haircut for the first time. He blinked in surprise at how good he looked with the new style and then turned to face me. “Th-tha-thank you,” he stammered.

“For what?”

“For – for not shaving me bald,” he said. “A-an-and not doing that other stuff.”

“You didn’t do anything to make that necessary,” I said. “I want you to know that you will be totally smooth from the neck down – but, most of the slaves here are kept smooth.” Malcolm bobbed his head to indicate that he understood. I patted his cheek reassuringly. “Now, Konrad is going to make you smooth and then bring you to me when he’s finished. Behave as well and you have for me. I’d really hate to punish you, but believe me, I will.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said.

I took Konrad to the side and told him to bring Mackenzie up to the staff canteen along with Malcolm when you’re done. Take your time, I have to go down to the clinic and make a couple of other stops before I get up there,” I said.

“About Mackenzie….” Konrad began.

“We’ll talk about that later,” I said.

*****

In the clinic, I found Claude examining John, clucking and shaking his head. “This one is going to have a terrible case of chapped lips,” Claude said as I came up to the side of the gurney.

“Yeah, well that’s going to be the least of his worries,” I said. “He spat in Brigitta’s face.”

“So Sam informed me,” Claude said grimly. “You should have called me – instead of Super Glue, I would have suggested surgical staples. They would have hurt more being applied.” He prodded large square bruises on John’s lips. “What did you do here?”

“Oh, we used binder clips to keep his lips together as the glue set,” I said.

“Next time, pad the clips with gauze – that will prevent such bruising,” Claude advised. “Still, there’s no permanent harm and I am sure it was humiliatingly effective.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, what is to be done with this slave while he is here?”

“First, I want him circumcised,” I said.

Claude examined John’s limp penis. “Nice size on him even when flaccid,” Claude observed. He pulled the foreskin back. “Nice mushroom head – it will look very nice always exposed. How tight a circumcision do you want?”

“As tight as you can make it,” I said. “I don’t want him to even have a hint that he ever had a foreskin.”

Claude pursed his lips and nodded as he considered the task. “Yes, yes I can do that without giving him any discomfort when he has an erection later – unless, of course, you want him to be uncomfortable when erect.”

“No, no that’s not necessary,” I said. “We can always go back and take more off later if that becomes necessary, right?” Claude nodded as I continued. “I want him totally denuded of all body hair – except for his head. Can you do that here?”

“Of course – it will take several laser treatments, but that is possible and done quite frequently here,” Claude explained. “What about his face?”

“His face?”

“Yes – do you want him to be able to grow a beard or not?”

“I see – yes, do his face,” I said. “Let’s remove any notions that he’s a man because he can grow a beard and body hair. He’s not a man anymore and needs to be reminded of that fact.”

“If that is the case, why not just castrate him?”

“No, not yet, but it might be necessary in the future,” I said. “But, let’s have just one of his testicles removed. That might send just the right message.”

Claude’s smile broadened. “I like the way you think, my friend. And, I understand you want him kept sedated the whole time?”

“Yes I do,” I said. “Brigitta will be in to tattoo him and pierce his nipples and give him a Prince Albert. I want his head kept shaved smooth the whole time, too. That way he won’t know how long he was out.”

Claude chuckled. “What a surprise he will have when he awakes.”

My next stop was the Slave Registration office. I had expected everything to run pretty smoothly – either Mackenzie was available for transfer or he wasn’t. Instead of dealing with a slave, however, I found myself on the opposite side of the counter from a female salaried employee who had a bored-with-it-all expression and an attitude to match. She started out being uncooperative and things quickly went downhill from there. At first, she refused to even check on Mackenzie’s status since I didn’t have the proper paperwork necessary to process the request and she wasn’t all that interested in providing me with the proper request forms.

At first, I found the situation slightly amusing and put up with her attitude. But, I quickly grew tired of the game she was playing. I leaned over the counter and rapped sharply on the countertop to get her full attention.

“Now, pay very close attention to what I’m going to say,” I said, my voice low and even. I had learned that keeping my voice low carried more menace than shouting. Shouting implied a total loss of control of the situation, while a low, even voice implied just the opposite. “After all is said and done, I will get the information I am requesting. You can either cooperate and earn my gratitude, or you can continue to be a pain in the ass in which case, you will end up pissing me off. And, I really don’t think you want to do that.”

The clerk was just about to respond with a sarcastic reply when the office manager entered. He stopped short when he saw me and hurried over to my side fawning. “How are you sir?” He gushed, bowing and offering me his hand. “What can we do to help you? There isn’t any problem, I hope?”

“No, not really,” I smiled. “I came to check on the status of a slave and didn’t think to get the proper paperwork for that. The clerk here was just trying to explain the procedures to me.”

“Henri, he doesn’t….” the clerk began.

“Need any forms,” Henri interrupted. He turned to me. “Mr. Masters, if you’ll just tell me which slave you are requesting status information on.”

Hearing my name, the clerk blanched and became the very model of efficiency as she pulled up the information I had asked for on her computer screen. Within minutes I knew that Mackenzie was directly owned by The Castle and not indebted to any of the members. His purchase price was ten thousand American dollars. Within moments, I had written a check and the transfer papers were officially filed, with appropriate copies going to the Delivery Office where Mackenzie had been assigned.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard the staccato clack of heels running after me. Turning, I found the clerk following me with a look of fear on her face. “Please forgive me for being rude,” she gushed as she reached me. “I had no idea who you were – I thought – I mean you look so young….”

“I look so young because I am,” I said with a smile. “I just turned eighteen last month.”

“It’s just that it’s been a very difficult day and I’ve had to miss almost two weeks of work which means my pay will be almost nothing and….”

“And, you can’t afford to lose your job,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. We all have bad days now and then. What’s your name?”

“Irma Holtz,” she said.

“Well, Irma – it sounds like you’ve been having problems,” I said. “What’s the matter?”

“I need this job to help my cousin,” Irma explained. “He … he….”

“Is he a slave here or indentured?” I asked.

“He’s indentured,” Irma said. “But, he keeps getting fined for mistakes he makes. I try to make up the difference so that he can pay his debt off in time otherwise….”

“Otherwise he defaults on his indenture and becomes a slave,” I finished. “Don’t worry – your job is safe. I got what I wanted and you are the one who helped me. As far as I’m concerned, you were extremely helpful and I’ll make sure your supervisor hears that.” Irma’s face instantly relaxed and she began pumping my hand in gratitude. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

“Ingo – Ingo Fassbinder,” she said. “He works in the restaurant – he’s not a bad person, he’s just careless sometimes.”

“Look, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see if I can put in a good word for him and for you,” I promised. I leaned conspiratorially close. “Just remember to always smile and be helpful in the office – even to the young ones like me.”

“I know him,” Simon said, after Irma had hurried back to the office.

“Who?”

“That Ingo Fassbinder,” Simon said. He explained that Konrad had taken him up to the cabaret a couple of times when I had been busy preparing for how to deal with Malcolm and John, or working late with Alexi. Simon said that Ingo was a nice enough young guy who worked as one of the indentured waiters in the private seating areas of the cabaret.

“So, what’s the problem?” I asked.

“Lots of little things,” Simon giggled. “He drops trays of food and drinks, forgets to charge for drinks – stuff like that.”

“Stuff like that that makes his debt increase,” I said shaking my head. “Do you know how he ended up indentured to the restaurant manager?”

“Not really, but I think Konrad does,” Simon said. He looked up at me as we walked along. “So, are you going to do something to help him out?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I might – it all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On whether it amuses me or not,” I smiled down at Simon. “It might be amusing to annoy that fat German who runs the restaurant.” I shrugged. “Then again, it might not.”

Walking into the staff canteen caused more than a few heads to turn in my direction – more than a few shifted nervously in their chairs. Generally, only those who were indentured or slaves used the canteen. For the slaves, canteen privileges were used as a reward for outstanding service. Occasionally, one of the younger guests would visit the canteen – more as a way of showing off that they were free and the other customers weren’t. But, it was very rare for someone like me to show up just to relax with his indentured servants and slaves.

I was a semi-regular of the canteen. I like it because the atmosphere was far less formal than the cabaret or restaurant. Simon and I could get pizza in the canteen and even fantastic bacon cheeseburgers loaded with thick onion slices, lettuce, and tomatoes. I made a point of smiling and congratulating those slaves nearest me as Simon and I made our way to the table in the back alcove where Konrad was standing and waving in our direction.

As I approached the table, Mackenzie quickly came to his feet, tapping Malcolm’s shoulder urging him to rise as well. The British slave’s ears burned bright red as he hesitantly rose. Konrad brought Malcolm to the canteen totally naked, and now that every hair from his neck down had been removed, Malcolm was even more embarrassed by his naked state.

“Looking pretty good, Malcolm,” I said. “Put your hands behind your head and stand up straight – let me see you.” I tried to suppress my grin as Malcolm slowly raised his arms, exposing his hairless pits. He looked good hairless. His flaccid dick was a bit shrunken from fear, but he still looked good and appealing. “Turn around so I can see everything,” I ordered. This time, Malcolm didn’t hesitate and did a quick pirouette. He heaved a sigh of relief when I motioned for him to resume his seat.

“Don’t worry, Malcolm, you’ll get used to being totally or partially naked in no time,” Simon assured him.

“Yeah,” Mackenzie piped up. “It’s embarrassing at first, but before you know it, you’ll be parading up and down the corridors naked without giving it another thought.”

“I hope so,” Malcolm muttered.

When the waiter appeared, I allowed the three slaves to have a half-pint of their favorite beer or ale, while Konrad and I each had a pint. The waiter looked at the three slaves with respect – permitting a slave to have beer or ale was one of the highest rewards they could receive.

I ignored Konrad’s questioning glances as we waited for our pizza to arrive. Once it arrived, I concentrated only on conversing with the slaves, explaining to Malcolm that every good slave should have good conversational skills, adding that there was nothing quite as disappointing as a boring slave. As we were finishing our meal, I casually asked Konrad to join us in the Leather Shop, claiming that I wanted his advice as I got Malcolm kitted out.

In the Leather Shop, we found a young woman behind the counter. Her wine red hair had been cropped boyishly short. Her trim, curvaceous figure was encased in skintight black leather pants, white pirate shirt and black leather lace-up vest. High-heeled boots completed her ensemble. She grinned at seeing Malcolm totally naked and clearly extremely humiliated at having a female see him naked and hairless.

“Oh wow – this one is cute,” she said in a breathy voice. She came out from behind the counter and after asking permission, ran a reddish purple nail along his naked chest. “I like the way he blushes,” she grinned, letting her hand drop to his penis. “Oh, and I do like his slender little prick – it’s just perfect for him.” She turned to me. “Please tell me that he’s straight – or at least bi.”

“I’m afraid not,” I said with a little shake of my head.

“All the really cute ones are gay,” she pouted. Suddenly she stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Leia – how can I help you today?”

“I want to get Malcolm kitted out,” I said. “Nothing fancy – just a few basics.”

“Hmmm, collar and cuffs – that type of thing?” Leia asked.

“Precisely,” I agreed. “He needs a posture collar – as you can see he’s a bit shy and keeps his head lowered.”

“There’s something cute about that, I have to admit,” Leia said. “But, it does keep one from seeing that cute face of his.” She tapped her chin with a well-manicured nail and then spun on her heel. “We have just the thing – a new training collar. It’ll keep his chin raised at just the right angle.” She hurried to the back of the shop and returned with a wide, thick black leather collar that she immediately buckled around Malcolm’s neck. It did force him to raise his chin. “This model also has an accessory strap that hangs down to the middle of his back that you can use to secure his hands behind his back. See? His wrist cuffs attach here and here.”

“Let’s get the strap as well and padded wrist and ankle cuffs,” I said.

“How about a harness?”

“No, I think a harness can wait,” I said.

Leia hurried to get the wrist and ankle cuffs and returned moments later. I had Simon apply the cuffs as Leia tallied up the costs. “Is that going to be all?” She asked.

“Yes, yes that’s it for today,” I replied. Suddenly, I slapped my hand to my forehead in mock surprise. “Oh, I almost forgot – Konrad here is going to need to get a collar for his new apprentice.”

“What?” Konrad exclaimed, spinning around to look at me in amazement.

“I bought Mackenzie just before coming to the canteen,” I explained. “You said you needed an apprentice – of course, if you changed your mind and don’t want him, I can always find other uses for him.”

Konrad just stood there blinking in stunned surprise – then, he practically leaped forward and wrapped his arms around me in a breath-taking hug. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he exclaimed.

“Train him well, that’s how,” I said.

Mackenzie glanced from Konrad to me and back again, not quite sure that he’d heard us correctly. Simon slapped him on the back welcoming him to our slave family. Eventually he realized his new circumstances and began grinning. His grin broadened when Konrad finally chose a chrome collar for his new apprentice. Once the collar was locked in place, Konrad handed me the key.

Back in our suite, I explained that Mackenzie could share Yoshi’s slave quarters next to our suite for the time being. Yoshi politely bowed to Mackenzie and offered to help him get his few possessions moved from his old quarters. Other arrangements could be made later – I was already thinking about London. Once we had things set up there, the apprentice could have a room next to Konrad’s quarters. Turning to Malcolm, I informed him that whenever Simon and I were at The Castle, he’d be staying in our suite. He’d sleep on a padded mat at the foot of our bed and be prepared to be used by either of us at any time. During the week, Yoshi was going to make sure that Malcolm learned his new lessons well.

When Simon took Malcolm into the bedroom to show him where he’d be sleeping, Yoshi turned to me and asked if I had any idea where Malcolm would be assigned. I told the Japanese slave to relax and feel free to take a seat as we talked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “With his past experience, looks, and background, I think he’d be idea as an escort slave.”

As Konrad, Yoshi, and I chatted about Malcolm’s training, the phone rang. Yoshi was on his feet in an instant, answering the phone and bringing it to me. Claude was on the other end, asking it I wanted to be present the following morning when he removed one of John’s testicles and circumcised him. I decided that was something that Malcolm should see and asked Claude not to start until we arrived.

The following morning I took Simon and Malcolm down to the medical clinic level. Right after we arrived, Konrad and Mackenzie arrived. Brigitta was already in the clinic chatting with Sam. Malcolm turned several shades paler when he saw John strapped to the gurney.

“W-wh-what’s going to happen to him?” Malcolm stammered.

“John needs to learn that he is now a slave,” I said firmly. “He no longer owns anything – he has nothing that a Master doesn’t let him have. Even his own body isn’t his anymore,” I explained. “In order to teach John this important lesson, he’s going to undergo some basic modifications.”

“Mod-modifications?” Malcolm almost choked on the word.

“Exactly,” I nodded. “John’s going to lose his foreskin today and one of his testicles. Before he’s permitted to wake up, John will receive laser treatments to permanently remove all of his body and facial hair. He’ll wake up to discover that his nipples have been pierced and ringed, that he’ll have a Prince Albert, and that he’s been tattooed.”

Malcolm swallowed hard. “You’re not really serious?”

“Watch and see,” I said.

As we were speaking, Sam raised the stirrups and lifted each of John’s legs into them before he spread them apart as wide as they would go. Since John had been shaved the day before, Sam was able to skip that step. He lifted John’s flaccid penis and taped it to his belly before applying a liberal coating of antiseptic solution to John’s scrotum.

Next to me, Malcolm had tears running down his face as he watched Sam prepare John for the impending surgery. “Ma-may-maybe if you explained again what the punishment could be, John would start to cooperate,” Malcolm stammered.

I placed my arm around the sensitive slave’s shoulders and pulled him close to me. “John had every chance to avoid this,” I said. “He chose to be uncooperative. Now, he needs to learn that his actions have serious consequences here. He didn’t learn that before he came here. His family name, influence, and money always bought him out of trouble until his family had to take drastic measures to avoid horrible scandal.”

“Maybe he just needs more time,” Malcolm persisted.

“No – he’s had too much time in the past,” I said, my voice hard. “John has had too many second chances – he expects them now. Well, the time for second chances is over. His actions here will bring consequences down on him and he’s going to learn that lesson.”

Claude stepped up to the table. “Do you have a choice as to which testicle I remove?” He asked. “Which would you like? Left or right?”

“Malcolm?” I asked. “Pick left or right.”

“Please no,” Malcolm whimpered. “Please don’t make me decide.” He looked up at me with pleading eyes. I returned his stare impassively. Finally, he gulped and blinked. “Left,” he whispered.

“That’s the one I chose, too,” I said nodding at Claude. “Take the left one.”

Claude bobbed his head once and called for a scalpel. Sam slapped the blade into Claude’s waiting hand and readied the surgical sponges to lap up the blood. Claude stretched out John’s scrotum and made a single slice down the left side. Without being told, Sam patted the blood clear, moving quickly out of the way as Claude manipulated the testicle from the sac. Malcolm stared in wonder at the bluish-gray orb in Claude’s hand and gasped when Claude took the surgical scissors from Sam and deftly snipped through the cords attaching it to John’s body.

“That’s that,” Claude announced, dropping the testicle into a small pan. He went to work suturing the blood vessels and closing the incision and moments later was finished. “There – that didn’t take long now, did it?” He looked over at Malcolm, who was quietly crying, and smiled benignly. “He’ll get along just fine with one testicle – his body won’t even know that one is missing, I assure you.”

“Don’t feel too bad, Malcolm,” Mackenzie offered. “I know quite a few slaves who had one ball removed as punishment. Most of them learned their lessons and are good slaves now.”

While Mackenzie was trying to console Malcolm, Claude was already working on preparing John for his circumcision. He had pulled the sleeping slave’s foreskin tight and held a surgical marker in his hand. He looked up at me curiously.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer it to be uncomfortably tight?” Claude asked. “I can make sure that all of his future erections are slightly painful.”

“No, no I don’t think that’s required just yet,” I said, giving Malcolm’s shoulders a squeeze. “Let’s just go for a smooth appearance.”

Claude shrugged indifferently. “You’re in charge,” he said.

I pulled Malcolm in front of me and wrapped my arms around him, reassuringly rubbing his chest with one hand and the nape of his neck with the other. “Just watch and learn,” I whispered. “You’re going to be a good slave, aren’t you? None of this will ever be necessary for you.”

“I swear it won’t,” Malcolm muttered shakily.

“Good boy,” I said, stroking his thick auburn hair. “Maybe you’ll set a good example for John here. If he’s smart, he’ll learn from you and avoid further punishments.”

Claude removed the excised foreskin and began suturing the incision. “When this is healed, it will be beautiful,” he said as he worked. “There are those who prefer the uncut penis – not I. A good circumcision makes the penis a work of art. This slave will have a masterpiece between his legs – if he behaves and is permitted to keep everything left between his legs,” Claude chuckled.

“And if he doesn’t, there are plenty of buyers for a nullified slave out there,” Sam said. “Especially an American boy like him.”

Malcolm was still shaken when we returned to the suite where I found Alexi waiting for us. Eric was sitting on the floor dressed only in moccasins and white shorts. His wig had been left in their suite, exposing his bald tattooed head. Seeing Eric, Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks and stared openly.

“I see you’re admiring Eric’s tattoo,” Alexi said affably. “Perhaps one day you, too, will earn such a grand mark of ownership.”

I couldn’t help laughing at Malcolm’s discomfort – he clearly didn’t want to risk offending Alexi, and at the same time he was terrified of agreeing and finding himself whisked away for a head shave and tattoo.

“Don’t worry, Malcolm, a tattoo like that is only for very special privately owned slaves,” I laughed. “It’s the highest slave mark of honor a slave could earn. You’re not even close to that category yet.”

Alexi stood and circled Malcolm, examining him carefully. “So, this is the new British slave,” he said. “He shows promise, and he certainly looks much better with a good haircut and his body hair removed."” Alexi turned to me, ignoring Malcolm. “I understand you bought a new slave yesterday.”

“I did,” I admitted. “One of the slaves from Deliveries.”

“Cute?”

“Very,” I said. “He came to the dungeon barbershop while John was being punished and was fascinated. Konrad was very taken with him and mentioned that he’d like an apprentice. And, Simon here thinks Mackenzie is cute, too.”

Alexi laughed. “So you decided to spoil two for the price of one.” Just then, the door opened and Yoshi entered pushing a cart with coffee and snacks. “I hope you don’t mind that I sent Yoshi for some refreshments.”

“Not at all,” I said. “That’s what he’s here for.”

“Let’s go down to the conference room and talk,” Alexi said. He looked over at Simon. “Feel free to bring Simon along.”

Yoshi stepped up and bowed. “If you won’t be needing me, sir, I’ll use the time to work with Malcolm.”

“Good idea,” I said. “He won’t go wrong taking lessons from you.”

Simon and I followed Alexi and Eric up to the conference room on the next level. A slave was standing by one wall, a serving cart by his side. As Alexi and I took our seats, Simon and Eric both took their positions on the floor next to our chairs without being told. Glancing over at Malcolm, I stroked Simon’s head for setting such a good example of slave behavior. As soon as we were seated, the slave placed table settings in front of us and poured coffee for Alexi and me from a silver carafe. Replacing the carafe on the cart, the slave uncovered a tray of pastries and offered them to us.

“I’m most impressed with the way you’ve handled these two slaves,” Alexi said, sipping his coffee. “Quite frankly, I thought the American was a waste of our resources. I wasn’t consulted when the deal was made for him. He’s headstrong – ones like that are usually trouble. But, you seem to have come up with a way to bring him into line.”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “He’s certainly going to get a shock when he finally wakes. I’m hoping that that will be enough of a jolt to make him more manageable. He’s already scared – but too damn stuck on his former importance because of his family name and connections. I doubt he’ll ever really be a good sex slave.”

“What about a dungeon slave?” Alexi asked. “There are plenty of Masters who would eagerly pay to have such a headstrong slave strapped to a whipping post.”

“That’s true,” I said. “And, I think that’s probably where he’ll wind up.” I took a butter cookie and fed it to Simon, who kissed my fingers in thanks for the treat. “Either there, or as a drudge slave. But, that’s not as good a return on what The Castle paid for him.”

“No, no it’s not,” Alexi agreed. He regarded me quizzically. “What else would you suggest?”

“Well, if John doesn’t work out,” I said thoughtfully. “I’d recommend having him nullified and putting him up for private auction.”

“Why?”

“We’ll more than make back our investment in him,” I said. “In fact, if the figures I saw were correct….”

“They were.”

“Then, we should be able to turn a handsome profit on him in a private auction as a nullified slave,” I said. “Right off the top of my head I can think of three Arab markets where he’d fetch at least twice what The Castle paid.”

“Go on,” Alexi encouraged.

“Then there are certain Asian markets in Singapore, Hong Kong, and Kyoto where John would bring The Castle a profit as is he right now,” I said. “With modifications, he’ll fetch a much higher price.”

“And why is that?”

I finally had to laugh out loud. “Is this my final exam or something?” I asked.

Alexi bowed his head, that Mona Lisa smile on his lips. “You’ve caught me out,” he admitted.

“Okay, John is a perfect example of a wealthy, over-privileged, white American,” I said. “One look is all anyone needs to see that – the perfect teeth that had to have cost his family more than a few thousand dollars, flawless skin,” I paused. “Should I go on?”

Alexi raised a hand in submission. “I give in …you’ve learned well.”

“Even though his family name would never be used,” I said. “Because of the attributes I’ve already mentioned and others, it’s clear he comes from that class. That makes him a rarity among certain circles in the slave community. There are special customers who would pay handsomely to add him to their special collections just for the humiliation factor – especially if he’s been modified. They’d go out of their way to remind him several times a day of his circumstances and what he had lost – or more accurately, had taken away from him against his will.”

Alexi stood and extended his hand across the table. “Congratulations – I can’t imagine a more capable head of our London operations.” Alexi looked up to the ceiling and addressed it. “Is there anyone who disagrees?”

“You’ve convinced us, Alexi,” a voice spoke from a hidden speaker in the ceiling. “I always thought that you were a one of a kind prodigy. I stand corrected – you have discovered a protégé almost as talented as you are.”

“Wrong, Misha,” Alexi laughed. “Duncan is every bit my equal.” Alexi waved towards the ceiling. “Duncan, permit me to introduce you to my Uncle Misha – one of the members of the board of directors.”

“Duncan, permit me to apologize for this little subterfuge,” Misha’s voice came from the speaker. “Like most of the other members on the board, I just didn’t think it possible for lightning to strike twice and have another young man of Alexi’s unique talents and abilities come our way.”

I looked up to the ceiling and bowed respectfully. “I’m just glad that I measured up to your expectations,” I said. “I hope I continue to measure up.”

“I look forward to meeting you when I return to Switzerland,” Misha said. “Alexi, your aunt and cousin send their love.”

“Mine back to them,” Alexi said, opening a panel in the table and cutting the connection. He looked over at me with a sly grin and a twinkle in his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?” I tried to look innocent and like I didn’t know what he was saying. “Don’t try to look innocent,” he laughed.

“Okay I,” I admitted. “I suspected we were being listened to.”

“When did you know?”

“I suspected when you brought us to the conference room here,” I said. “We could have had the conversation in my suite. Then, you had me spell out where we could expect the best return on John should he prove resistant to training. That’s when I knew for sure.”

Alexi rubbed his hands together and looked around. “Do you both have suits here?”

“Yes, we do,” I said.

Well then, I suggest we celebrate with dinner,” Alexi said. “Shall we meet in the dining room in say an hour?”

Just under an hour later, Simon and I entered the dining room and were quickly escorted to a table at the back of the room where Alexi and Eric were already seated. Eric was dressed in a Navy three piece suit and had his wig on. As Simon and I crossed the floor, several heads turned admiringly in our direction. I recognized many of the faces in the dining room from Swiss newspaper and television reports.

Taking my seat, I looked out over the room at the slaves waiting tables. Each male was dressed in tight black satin shorts, a batwing collar and black bow tie, starched white cuffs, and soft black slippers. The females wore extremely short black skirts with a starched white apron and black heels. I had to admit that Gerd, the restaurant manager, had good taste in staff.

As I was looking out over the room, I heard the clatter and crash of a tray full of glass hit the floor. Scanning the room, I quickly found the source of the noise. Across the room, a red-faced waiter was alternately bending over to clean up the mess he’d made and standing to take the Teutonic abuse Gerd was hurling at him.

I found myself laughing and shaking my head at the same time. “That has to be Ingo,” I said.

“Who?” Alexi asked.

“Ingo Fassbinder,” I said. I quickly shared the little bit of information that I knew from Irma about her cousin, and how she was fearful that Ingo would end up defaulting on his indenture and becoming a slave.

“She’s right,” Alexi said. “Gerd is well-known for acquiring slaves in that manner. And, within a month or so of this Ingo becoming Gerd’s slave, he’ll be on the auction block and bring the fat slob a nice profit.”

I motioned to a waiter nearby. “I’d like that waiter over there – the sandy haired one who dropped the tray to wait on me,” I said.

The waiter looked across the room and blanched. “I’m sure Sir would prefer someone else,” he suggested politely.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” I replied. “He made me laugh. He might make dinner more adventurous.” The waiter opened his mouth to politely object again and then looked carefully from me to Alexi and back again. Recognition bloomed in his eyes.

The waiter bowed. “As you wish, sir.” I watched as he hurried across the room and spoke quietly to Gerd. The fat German violently shook his head at first. Then, the waiter spoke again and pointed in our direction. Gerd looked in the direction of the waiter’s finger and almost snapped to attention. He hurried over to our table.

“Is there a problem?” I asked before Gerd could say anything.

“Problem? Vy should zere be a problem?” Gerd stammered.

“I don’t know,” I smiled. “I just assumed that there must be a problem since the waiter I requested is still on the other side of the room and you are here. I ask again, is there a problem?”

Gerd gulped and shook his head violently, his jowls flopping as he did. “Nein, no problem,” he assured me. “I chust come to suggest another waiter. Ve have oters more handsome….”

“Yes, I can see you have excellent taste in staff,” I said. “But, that one appeals to me for some reason.”

Gerd mopped his sweating brow as he tried to figure out a way to refuse my request without causing offense. Across the table, Alexi rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin in his hand. He was having trouble keeping a straight face while watching the restaurant manager’s discomfort.

“Bitte,” Gerd began.

“If there’s a problem, tell me why my request can’t be fulfilled,” I said. “If not, please send that waiter over to take my order.”

Gerd mopped his brow again, rolled his eyes and bowed before he hurried across the room with as much dignity as he could muster and ushered Ingo over to our table.

“You’re terrible,” Alexi chuckled.

“I know, I just can’t help it,” I said.

Ingo appeared at the side of the table, snapping to attention, his ticket book held stiffly in front of him. Turning in my chair, I studied the waiter carefully. He was medium height with a good, tight gymnast’s build. His sandy hair was plastered down to his head with heavy grease in a Rudolph Valentio style that really didn’t suit him. His blue eyes darted nervously around each of us at the table.

“You requested me?” Ingo asked with the faintest hint of a German accent.

“I did,” I said. “Relax and tell me what happened over there.”

Ingo’s face darkened in shame. “I dropped a tray full of crystal and a magnum of champagne.”

“I could see and hear that,” I said. “What happened to make you do that?”

“Sometimes, I get nervous and bad things happen,” Ingo said.

“Why do you get nervous?” Alexi asked. Ingo looked around to where Gerd was supervising the cleanup across the room. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it closed again. “Well, you don’t have to be nervous around us,” Alexi said. “Shouting makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” Ingo admitted. “And, then bad things happen and I get more nervous and….”

“And then more bad things happen,” I finished. “Well, like I said – just relax because no one at this table is going to shout at you.”

Ingo visibly relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”

“We’ll start with an appetizer,” Alexi said, ordering snails in garlic butter for all of us.

Ingo bowed and hurried away to place the orders. Once he was gone, Alexi leaned over the table and we discussed the likely outcome of the waiter’s fate. We both agreed that unless Ingo could relax when Gerd bellowed orders, he’d be unlikely to be able to pay off his indenture – even with his cousin’s help.

“Are you thinking of paying off his debt to Gerd?” Alexi finally asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I don’t like Gerd and I do kind of like Irma.”

“What do you like about her?” Alexi asked. “What makes her special?”

“Her loyalty,” I said. “She’s working here and using a good part of her pay to try to offset Ingo’s mistakes. I like people who are loyal – especially to family.”

“Because your family doesn’t have that kind of loyalty?” Alexi asked.

I thought about it. Alexi was right – the only thing my family cared about was how much they had gained from the estate. Their pretense at family loyalty had always been clearly false and strained. Once I turned eighteen, they had stopped even pretending, which suited me just fine. Yes, it was Irma’s loyal attempts to help her cousin that made me like her and I admitted that to Alexi.

“Is she capable at her job?” Alexi asked out of the blue.

“She seems to be, when her mind isn’t occupied with worries about what might happen to Ingo,” I said.

“Then she needs to be transferred to London,” Alexi announced. “You’re going to have to assemble a staff sooner or later. You’re taking some people along with you already – you might as well have someone who understands how the Personnel section works.” Alexi leaned back and toyed with the watch chain dangling from his vest. He glanced up with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Of course, you’ll have to pay off Gerd and take on Ingo’s indenture. He could wind up as your slave, you know.”

“The thought has occurred to me,” I admitted. I looked over at Simon. “What do you think?”

“He’s kind of cute,” Simon said. “I think that if he could be someplace where he could relax that he might stop breaking things and making mistakes.”

Before I could say anything to that, Ingo turned up with a large platter and four servings of escargot. He managed to balance the platter and serve each of us without spilling a single drop of the garlic butter. Simon gave me one of his I-told-you-so glances. Once each of us had our appetizers in front of us, Ingo disappeared as silently as a ghost. We chatted as we ate – mostly about St. Michael’s and how soon the Spring Holiday was approaching. Ingo appeared from nowhere and cleared the empty plates before returning to take our entrée orders.

Ingo managed to make it through every course without any serious mishaps – there was a slight bit of confusion when he placed Alexi’s steak tartar in front of Simon, but considering his earlier accident, that wasn’t such a serious matter. When the last of the plates after dessert had been removed from the table, Alexi ordered brandy all around. The brandy arrived with no mishaps and Alexi asked Ingo to have Gerd deliver the bill to the table.

Ingo had hardly disappeared when Gerd chuffed up to the table ready to apologize for whatever it was that Ingo had done and remind us that he had warned us of his incompetence.

“He was an excellent waiter,” Alexi said, stunning the fat German. He motioned for a waiter to bring Gerd a chair. “Duncan here wants to talk to you.”

Gerd’s piggish eyes regarded me with suspicious curiosity as he eased his bulk into the chair. “You haff had no problems?”

“None at all,” I said. “I understand that Ingo is indentured to you.”

“Correct.”

“How much longer does he have to pay you off?” I asked.

“Four months more,” Gerd said. “But, it iss impossible for him to accomplish.”

“Why?”

“He makes many mistakes vich adds to his debt,” Gerd said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head in mock sadness, setting his jowls to wriggling again. “I am afraid zat he iss bound to become a slave.”

“How did he become indebted to you?” Alexi asked.

“Ach – it vas in Augsburg,” Gerd said, again shaking his jowly head. “He vas forced to borrow money for some family emergency – a very great deal of money vich could not come from a bank. Eventually, he found his vay to me. I explained everything to him und his obligations. He said zat he didn’t care und vas willing to take ze risk.”

“How long ago was that?” I wanted to know.

“Almost four years since,” Gerd replied.

“And, how much did you loan him?”

“Sixty thousands,” Gerd said primly.

“Marks or dollars?” I asked.

“Marks, of course,” Gerd said.

I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out my checkbook. “I’ll pay you eighty thousand marks to buy out his indenture,” I said. “That should be about forty-five thousand dollars, right?”

“Perhaps,” Gerd said slowly. I could read the thoughts behind his greedy eyes. He was trying to calculate the daily exchange rate and how much he had already amassed from working Ingo for no pay.

“Well, we’ll round it out to fifty thousand dollars,” I said writing out the check. “That will give you a little extra for your troubles.”

“Ach, nein, I am afraid zat is not possible,” Gerd said, licking his lips. “I belief zat Ingo will make much more for me at auction.”

“Think it through,” Alexi said coldly. “Do you really think anyone will bid against me if they know of my interest in Ingo?”

“You?” Gerd asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Alexi said reasonably. “My friend, Duncan, wants Ingo and has made a fair offer to buy his indenture. If you insist on going to auction, I’ll be forced to bid on Duncan’s behalf.”

Gerd put a pained expression on his face. “You abuse me,” he complained.

I leaned forward, my voice as cold as Alexi’s had been. “You abuse the system, Gerd,” I said. “You’re a smart man and know how to read people. You realized early on how to make Ingo nervous and force him to make mistakes so that he couldn’t ever have a hope of repaying his debt. That’s not entirely fair, Gerd, and you know it.”

“I swear zat is not ze case,” Gerd protested. “I am not nearly zo devious as you imagine.” He drummed his sausage-like fingers on the table. “Perhaps just anudder funf – ah, five thousand.”

“Perhaps five thousand less,” I countered pushing the check across the table at him.

Gerd groaned. “Ach, I haff no choise,” he complained. “Besides – zere is no telling how much more he vill cost me in damages if I vait.” He snatched up the check. “You haff a deal – but, you must take Ingo mit you immediately.” Gerd pushed away from the table and waddled off with as much dignity as he could muster, while Alexi, Eric, and Simon laughed softly.

“So you’ve added another to your growing collection,” Alexi laughed. “How much time will you give him to make repayment?”

“Five years,” I said. “Salary of ten thousand dollars a year to start. If he relaxes, he’ll get a raise.”

“And what will you have him doing?”

“I think he’ll make a good host,” I said. “He’s good looking, affable – that is when he’s not shivering in his shorts.”

“Get rid of that greasy plastered down look with his hair and he’ll be even better looking,” Eric said, speaking up for the first time.

“Eric’s got a good point,” I said. “He could use some cosmetic improvements.”

Ingo arrived at the table just then wearing only his black satin shorts. The white cuffs and collar had been stripped from him. He was looking frightened. “Gerd yanked my cuffs and collar off and ordered me to report to you,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’ve still got a couple of months to pay my debt. I know I can make it.”

The former waiter looked like he was ready to cry. I wanted to strangle Gerd – he had purposely let Ingo think that he had been sold into slavery because it was impossible for him to pay off his mounting debt.

Alexi smiled grimly. “You know, I’m still a little hungry,” he said. “I could really enjoy a slice of cheesecake.” He looked around brightly. “Will anyone else join me?”

“Good idea,” I said. “Ingo, take that empty chair and sit down and join us.”

Eric looked around mischievously and then leaned over the table conspiratorially. “Which one of the waiters gave you the most trouble?”

“What?” Ingo was totally confused.

“Was there a waiter to make you look bad or bullied you?” Eric asked.

“Oh, ja,” Ingo nodded. He looked around and pointed out a waiter with curly black hair. “That’s the one – Marcel. He is Gerd’s favorite.”

“Well then,” Alexi said, smiling. “Signal him over here.”

Ingo stood and frantically signaled for Marcel to come to the table. He remained standing even after Marcel began moving in our direction.

“Sit down, Ingo,” I said. “It’s time for Marcel to wait on you.” Ingo turned to me curiously. “You’re not a slave – not yet, at any rate. I bought your indenture from Gerd – we’ll talk about the details later. By the way, have you eaten yet?”

“No, we may not take our meals until after our shift is done,” Ingo explained.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Alexi laughed. “Put this Marcel to work – order anything you’d like for dinner.”

Marcel came to the table and looked venomously down at Ingo. “On your feet,” he hissed. “You’re out of uniform.”

Ingo looked around and began to rise when I put my hand on his arm and looked up at Marcel. “Is it your habit to speak to someone else’s servant in such a disrespectful manner?” Marcel’s mouth opened and closed in surprise without managing to get any words out. “What is your status here – are you indentured or a slave?”

“A-a slave, sir,” Marcel replied.

“You’ll take our orders and personally serve us,” I said coldly. “Then, you’ll also report to Gerd that you’ve received twenty demerits.”

Since Ingo seemed nervous to place an order, Alexi ordered for him. When an ashen-faced Marcel had left to place our orders, Ingo turned to us. “Twenty demerits will mean that Marcel will probably get five lashes with the cane,” he informed us. “He’s earned a few demerits already.” When he returned, Marcel was subdued as he served the table, trying his best to pretend to treat Ingo with respect.

Alexi and Eric returned with us to the suite, where I explained to Yoshi that we’d be needing to get Ingo settled in on a cot in Yoshi’s slave quarters. Bowing, Yoshi led Mackenzie, Malcolm, and Ingo from the suite to make the necessary arrangements for his new roommate.

Alexi sat in one of the wing chairs and watched the group leave the suite. “With Konrad, Brigitta, and this Irma, you’ve got the basis for a good core staff for the London operation,” he observed. “One thing I know for sure, though….”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We have got to get you to London as soon as possible or you’ll end up adding at least half the staff here to your growing collection,” he laughed.

The next morning, Irma half strangled me with her hugs of gratitude when I stopped by her office to tell her about Ingo and her impending transfer to London. It took me nearly half an hour to disentangle myself from her arms. She went all teary as she explained that Ingo had indentured himself to Gerd in order to get the money to put her mother in a private nursing home, knowing that he could end up losing his freedom forever. Irma’s mother had helped raise Ingo after his own mother had abandoned her. When his aunt was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Ingo swore that he’d find the money for the best possible care for her one way or another. After she had passed on, Irma sought employment at The Castle as a way to be close to Ingo and to help him pay off his debt.

I finally managed to get away from her grateful hugs while reminding her to start putting her affairs in order for the move which would take place in just a couple of months.

Leaving Irma, I went down to the medical clinic to find that Claude was almost halfway through the first of the laser treatments that would eventually render John totally hairless. John’s cheeks and chin were a sunburned red, which was perfectly normal Claude assured me. He explained that John would need several more treatments on each part of his body to make sure that all hair follicles were destroyed. The French doctor said that Brigitta could tattoo the band around John’s biceps since they were already naturally smooth, but that she would have to wait until the other treatments were complete to ink the other areas of John’s body.

I thought about it and decided that Claude’s proposed schedule suited me just fine. I hadn’t planned to take either Konrad or Brigitta to London during the break in two weeks, and that would give Brigitta something to do while I was away.

Returning to my suite, I thought over the things left for me to do to get ready for the London visit. I wouldn’t be taking Yoshi on that trip – he’d need to stay behind and oversee Malcolm’s training. Mackenzie, on the other hand, would be coming to London. He was already well trained and he’d be a companion for Eric and Simon while Alexi and I were gone or otherwise occupied. Ingo would come with us – I wanted to see just how much help he could be in getting the restaurant set up. If he seemed to know his business, I decided to give him a chance as manager of the public dance club that would be our front.

By the time I reached the suite, I pretty much had everything arranged in my mind. I went straight to the desk and wrote everything down, checking and double-checking my plans to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied that I hadn’t, I leaned back and smiled. I was ready for London.

To be continued….