*** Author's note. This intro to this chapter is mostly story building. This is so that the powers Raell and future character have makes sense. I am limiting the background information, but if you want more information, message me. Thanks!***
Drake stayed curled up, sobbing softly, for a few more minutes. He was filled with self-pity, wishing to have his old life back, wishing to not have to eat and drink like an animal, wishing he could just wear some clothes. He'd never thought he would miss the everyday things that makes up a person's life. All the things taken for granted, like showers, pillows, and cereal. Even the memory of the apple Mistress Raell had given him a few days ago seemed like years ago.
As the crying started to slow, and the pity began to fade, Drake's thoughts instead turned to rebellion. Sadness faded back into anger. He knew he had to hide it now, as he remembered the incident with the blonde boy. He couldn't vocalize his attitude, but he could show it. When they said fifty pushups, he'd do forty nine. When they said eat like a dog, he'd eat like a dog, then lick his fingers. He'd keep the rebellions too small to notice, but enough to keep him from breaking.
Satisfied that he'd never crumple to the whims of the trainers and Mistress Raell, Drake curled up in the sand, shifting it around so that he was comfortable. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of the meal his missed. "Breakfast" was his last thought before he passed out.
The next morning started weeks of training and conditioning. He'd be woken up by the slaves dumping breakfast in. He'd eat the goo, using his hands whenever he got the chance. Whenever he was caught, he was caned. He often looked like a zebra.
After breakfast, the trainers would march each pen into the main arena training pen, where they were ordered into positions until it became second nature to do the commands. Drake attempted to rebel by not doing the positions right, and found out that the trainers kept track of the small errors, and if a slave was suspected of intentionally screwing up, the slave was posted for a day. Drake acquired a nice tan, if the white stripes where his harness and cuffs blocked the
sun were ignored.
Lunch was given in the training pen. Drake didn't try to use his hands here, as there were too many slaves who might not look the other way like the slaves in his pen did. He wasn't afraid of the punishment (more caning) but since he usually was spotted and caned at breakfast, he wanted to eat at least one meal.
After lunch came conditioning. Drake kept up his routine of not doing the set number of pushups, crunches, or whatever thing the trainers called out. At first this was because he could not do them physically, but as weeks passed he bulked up and could do them easily. Whenever it was discovered that he wasn't doing correct number,
the trainers would tie a rope around his dick and balls, throw it over a ceiling beam, and tie the other end to a weight. Drake could either hold up the weight, or have his junk stretched out. His shoulders and chest bulked out pretty quickly, and the trainers kept adding more weight so he would have to struggle to hold it.
Conditioning was followed by showers, which unlike his first shower as a slave, were done as a group. Slaves lined up on either side of a chain link fence that split the shower room in half, lengthwise, and would walk the full length of the room. The fence "posts" were actually shower heads, which blasted down soapy water, then clean water with a healing lotion added in. Drake asked a fellow slave about it after his first shower, marveling in how his sunburn had vanished.
The sparking clean slaves were then lead to the pits, where they were to relieve themselves. That was the only time the buttplugs ever came out. The pens rotated on cleaning out the pits. Whenever it was his pen's turn, Drake and slaves were forced down into the pit- it was an actual pit- and were given shovels and carts. Some of the slaves were hooked up to the carts, while the rest shoveled the mix of shit, piss, and dirt into the carts, which were pulled to farrow fields, to help the earth regenerate. Fresh dirt was then shoveled in, so that the pits never got much deeper.
Dinner was the same as the other two meals- dog food like goop. Occasionally the trainers would toss in bread and laugh as the slaves fought over it. Drake never participated, knowing he'd just be entertaining the trainers. He would eat with his hands when he could, but found that the trainers were more active in the evenings than the mornings, so he usually was caught and caned.
And so the weeks went by.
Drake learned that each pen had around twenty five slaves, and that each pen spent about a month and half in the training pens. After that, some slaves were given "jobs" around Mistress Raell's property. A slave could end up in the barns pulling a plow and tending to the crops, be put in the main house as a household slave, or be sent to one of the different animal farms Raell had. The leftover slaves were sold at auction.
"Auction? Who the hell still buys slaves nowadays?" He recalls asking.
As it turns out, not only a quite a few humans on Earth bought slaves, but nearly all slaves were sold to "aliens." He learned at the aliens were not really aliens in the sense of green men from Mars. Instead, they were from different dimensions, which were similar to a stack of paper- stacked on top of each other. There were said to be nine different dimensions. Each dimension had its own universe, with its own species. Mistress Raell, a "dragon," was from the first dimension. Then were the "demons" which were known as the black dragons, share similar but fewer powers with the dragons. The next three dimensions contained the "light" dimension, the "shadow" dimension, and the human dimension. The last four dimensions had names Drake couldn't even pronounce.
All the trainers he had met so far were human, Drake learned.
Occasionally he spotted a person walking by with colorful wings, or donkey-like ears, but that was all the contact he had. Mistress Raell did not come back after the night he had been harnessed,and he thought she might not ever come back at all.
Drake groaned as he shifted his position on the sandy floor. The trainers had taken to bursting in at random times of the night to do "pop quiz" training sessions. The slaves would be half asleep, but if they didn't get into the correct position they would be beaten. He'd just fallen asleep when they'd busted in, screaming out order.
God, he was tired.
He thought back on how he'd gotten used to this life. He didn't know what day it was, or how long he'd been here... He measured his days in beatings and events. Every two weeks they upgraded his butt plug to a larger size. Almost once a week Zack, James, and Austin collected a new fuck toy, and would usually put on a show. He was surprised they hadn't picked him yet. He always saw Zack eyeing him. Every month they brought in a new set of slaves and took out the oldest set. Occasionally they were fed slop food instead of the goo- scraps from the huge parties Mistress Raell threw. He could hear the music thumping all the way out here.
Drake figured his group had to be reaching the end of their time here. They were simply drilling now, reinforcing the training so it was automatic. He didn't even have to think about placing his hands behind his back, or how low he had to bow, for it was ingrained in him to do it.
Rebelling was getting more and more difficult, as the training was starting to override his will. He did not fear the whip- he feared turning into one of the mindless drones he saw leaving Zack's barracks, so broken that they couldn't even function without someone telling them what to do.
Drake shifted again, determined to get some sleep. He'd eat using his hands tomorrow, beating or not.
THUD.
Drake shot awake, staring frantically at the gate. Around him, the other slaves did the same.
However, nobody was busting in, and it was still pretty early morning.
THUD.
This time he felt the ground shake slightly. Earthquake? He wondered for a second.
THUD.
This time a blast of air hit him, and he looked around, wondering what the hell was going on.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
