Al got up early, he tried to go to the toilet at night whenever possible, while the mistress was sleeping. He needed permission to go to the bathroom, but he didn't have to wake her up to ask for permission. Besides the permission itself, masters usually spent much time to find out why he needed in the toilet, what would he do there and how. He went to the bathroom.
The bomb exploded later when a slave of Melinda came and reported that on the deck was found blooded Amir at night. The guards had already been looking for the robber who’d stolen his wallet.
At that moment Al was doing his morning exercises. He would not have done that in purpose not to have this attractive body, but Aletta forced him.
“Oh, God, I’ll be there right now! You finish your exercises, if it seems to me you're just sitting there, I'll make you do it all over again,” the woman locked Al in the room and hurried to the men.
Al obediently was doing exercises.
Aletta didn't come back for breakfast. He took a book, he rarely managed to read, only in those moments when everybody forgot about him. Al had a very good imagination because he succeeded to read till the end very few books. He could have started one, and he could have been interrupted at any time, and he could have never seen the book again. Over thirty years of slavery and the crushed will left a stamp on the man, the one that the masters’d been achieving. He was alive, but he had no emotional opinion. Because he, usually, was not asked, and when asked, demanded to match with the masters’ opinion. A perfect animal for desire satisfaction, with the sleeping personality. It was impossible to say anything about his character. Like if it never existed. He had no desires that required satisfaction. There was nothing Aletta could do to give him a little joy. Come to think of it; it was his job to bring joy to the masters.
For this time, it was a gift edition for the ship "Stronger than death". The Albireo wrote more often for homosexuals, or maybe such books were more popular in Firokami. A son of a rich Frican* businessman returned home from the University and fell in love with a zombie slave.
[1 Some countries lose or got in centuries some letters in their names. In our books, when we could identify a country, we removed the first one or double one. Of course, this is Africe, which lose its letter.]
Al peeked in the end. The end was not clear; the conversation of heroes who hadn’t yet appeared in the beginning. "Love, it's always stronger. Both then life, and death", the book ended. This gave hope for a good end, and Albireo, as Al’d heard, were famous because they were writing till the happy ending, even if that happy ending was after life, and no matter how many lives it would take for the characters to have that happy ending. However, Al was rarely able to read those happy endings, that’s why he was inventing them himself. Al went back to the story, reading fast.
He read down exactly till the moment when the desperated father decided not to interfere with the relations of the son with the zombie slave so that he would understand nonsense of the feelings to the dead by himself. And Aletta entered the room. Al was sitting cross-legged on the floor and reading. Aletta smiled sweetly. The slave closed the book, put it back. Aletta sat on the chair. Put a bag on a table.
“It’s crazy! What we have come to! Attack a master. Probably someone's brazen slave. I can imagine what they'll do to him when they find him. What do you think we should do to such slaves?” asked Aletta.
“Punish, mistress,” replied Al.
“Yes, sure,” she nodded tiredly, pointed to the package. “I’ve brought you breakfast. Eat.”
Al got up, walked over to the chair, sat on the floor and opened the package. The leftovers were mixed, soup, the second course, juice. It wasn’t the first Al’s time when he ate leftovers, but for some reason, it now occurred to him that the day before he’d owned the boy from the sky of Firokami, and today was eating leftovers of the cheap ageing girl. Al put his hand into the package and ate a piece of mess; it was impossible to refuse, otherwise, he would never have anything else. The slave was patiently waiting until he got old and ceased to be interesting for the masters. No one would spend money on his rejuvenation, so, in the worst case, he had to wait for ten years, hardly more. Young bodies would attract the mistress, and she would throw him out of her life. Then he would leave to the sea, and no one would stop him. Aletta stroked Al's buttocks with her shoe.
“Get on your all fours and eat.”
The slave obeyed. Dusty heel touched the sphincter.
“No, lie down and eat,” Aletta ordered. The slave obeyed again. Aletta stepped on him, dropped her heel into the after. Al chokingly uttered a cry, stiffened, the heel was exposing abrasions, unhealed since the day before, and giving new ones. Aletta laughed hoarsely and began to move her feet.
“Please, mistress, it hurts,” begged Al.
“I know. But it amuses me. You're funny when in pain, it’s so touching, my heart melts.”
Al breathed out a wounded roar, he covered his head with his hands, frantically squeezing. It would be better to be a zombie in a far state Frica.
“Then you may choose whether to dishabituate your bowels to work or make you a bosom for the masters. Gene came up with the idea today.”
“I don't know what it is, mistress, could you tell me.”
Happy Aletta leaned toward to Al.
“We’ll give you an enema after each meal, a month later, the bowels won’t want to work,” the heel got out of the slave to step on his balls, Al gasped and tightened again.
“And the bosom’s gonna be right here, between your balls, but you must thank Gene, he was against to cut them off.”
“A mistress wants to give me up and to give to masters?” asked Al.
“No. You will die in my captivity. Who's going to give you up?”
“Why would mistress ask slave, you’ve already chosen, haven’t you?”
“I want you to choose yourself.” Aletta laughed and tapped on the balls with the heel.
Al doubted, if he chose something, mistress could say, that she was joking and choose the opposite.
“Dishabituate my bowels, my mistress, I'll ask for the toilet more rarely, and my butt will become a clean bosom for masters,” Al cautiously said.
“Good. Eat.” Aletta got back in the chair, watching Al.
The slave was thinking of Dora's words, that he would die at her captivity. She occasionally repeated so, but Al hoped she was, as often happened, wasting the words. Al ate the slop, thanked mistress for breakfast. Aletta smiled and pulled out a huge vibrator, she used it rarely, it didn’t fit in Al, and she did small cuts on the sphincter. Aletta stroked cleavage between the buttocks of Al with the glans of the vibrator.
“Recognize your friend?”
“Please, mistress, what are you punishing me for?” Al begged.
“Is not a punishment, it's a reward,” saucily said Aletta. “You'll be cumming till dinner.”
The award is periodically matched the punishment; there was no logic in the actions of masters, a bunch of useless ageing boys and girls, who tried to satisfy the wishes, they had never had in an attempt to hide their real desires. Al annoyedly groaned, not keeping his temper. Sometimes the beast woke up, unable to tolerate bullying and tried to escape, the mistress knew about it and always severely punished for such manifestations, driving off the beast deeper.
“Please, for me, the reward is to see you, don't spend your mercy on me,” desperately asked the beast, resigned.
Aletta laughed; she had managed to get scared of the beast.
“Get your ass up!” the lady raised her voice.
Al obeyed. Aletta pulled out her blade and began to incise the sphincter slowly. The slave screamed when the blade touched the delicate skin. Aletta smeared a vibrator and Al’s ass thickly with grease, the slave jerked, trying to move away. The mistress squeezed his balls.
“If you twitch, I'll rip your balls off.”
The slave froze, hid his face in his hands. Aletta slowly injected the vibrator. Al loudly shouted, frantically, trying to leave the body with a cry. The pain of red-hot lava poured in consciousness.
“Why would you pretend to die every time something enters your precious ass?”
Al was shaking, bathed in cold sweat; a sharp pain made it impossible to accept, tears were flowing involuntarily out of eyes. Aletta entered the vibrator to the end, turned it on, held her hand over the erect penis.
“Good girl. I won’t even put a ring on,” Aletta sat in the chair, opened the laptop.
Al didn't move, trying to relax, the pain wouldn’t let, he squeezed, making it even more hurtful. The slave clutched his hair, clenching his fists. The body was shaking with sobs. The pain became unbearable; the torture was endless. Al urinated on oneself. Aletta smiled, looking at him, but didn’t distract from talking.
“Mistress, I beg you, it’s enough,” the slave was whimpering.
“Till dinner. Unless you capture my imagination and offer me something else. Everyone's running around Amir right now, and I'm trying to find on the Internet our new guy who's gonna be joining us soon.”
“I can punish someone for mistress.”
Aletta turned.
“Nice. You will punish the new slave in public, not just fuck him, but punish him, I need his humiliation. And try your best, if I don't like it, if you feel sorry for him, we'll come here and what's happening to you now will seem like a child's play.”
Aletta approached, slowly pulled the vibrator out. Al flinched and again wetted himself.
“Go to the bathroom and clean up. You can rest for two hours; he won’t show up before lunch anyway.”
* Some countries lose or got in centuries some letters in their names. In our books, when we could identify a country, we removed the first one or double one. Of course, this is Africe, which lose its letter.
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