The One-Way Voyage (day 50)

DAY FIFTY

Enter the Dragon

In the week that followed, I hardly saw Master at all. Suresh took over my daily care. It was Suresh who came for me first thing in the morning and took me away before Master was even out of bed. It was Suresh who washed me, Suresh who fed me, and Suresh who took me to the bathroom. Master was busy catching up on his work, Suresh explained.

I didn't like it. When Master washed me or fed me, he was attentive to me and my feelings. When Suresh took me into the shower, it was about as romantic as a car wash, although I admit the sight of his naked body made up for a lot.

He genuinely enjoyed smacking my ass. Suresh was a strict disciplinarian, and I gave him plenty of opportunities to assert his authority. Rule Six said that slaves don't get to use pronouns, but Master had been lax about that on the boat. I often called myself "I" and Master "you," and Master usually let it slide. Suresh was strict. If I said "I" instead of "the slave," that was two smacks on the butt, one on each cheek. If I called him anything but "Master Suresh," that was two smacks on the butt. If I failed to reply to his every command with "Yes, Master Suresh," that was two smacks on the butt.

After the two smacks, I was expected to say "Thank you, Master Suresh," or else I got two more.

Suresh never dressed in anything other than a sarong and sandals. The sarong changed every day, but it was always made from a fabric with colorful prints. He was always naked above the waist, and for the sake of that sight I could forgive much, to be honest.

He also worked me hard. I needed to exercise more, he said, to make up for the boat chores I was no longer doing. Every morning was weightlifting, followed by the treadmill. The treadmill in Master's house was fitted with electrodes that Suresh attached to my scrotum, similar to the shock box Master used on the boat. I had to run on the treadmill for sixty minutes at a minimum speed of six miles per hour. If I slowed down, the electrodes reminded me to pick up the pace.

Lunch was a protein shake, then came another round of exercise in the afternoon.

I wouldn't see Master again until dinnertime, the high point of my day. I would sit at his feet and he would feed me; afterward Suresh would take me away again to wash me and present me to Master in his bedroom, so I could be fucked and then put to bed.

Trouble was, even when I was with Master, he seemed distant. Because he was so busy, Suresh explained when I asked about it.

Suresh also explained the house rules to me. The second floor of the north wing was Master's personal quarters, and I was confined to this space. Only Master, Suresh, and I were permitted there. The first floor was used for entertaining guests and where Master kept his office. A staff of eight servants took care of the house and cooked our meals, and Suresh waved his hot stick very close to my dick as he warned me that I was never, ever to allow myself to be seen by any of them.

Three afternoons per week I was excused from the exercise regimen. The staff cleaned our rooms at those times, so I was to stay outside and out of sight. Master's bedroom had doors that opened onto a spacious second-floor patio, where Suresh would chain my balls to the stone floor, and there I would wait until the cleaning was done. The chain was long enough that I could pace, or lie in one of the two lounge chairs and sun myself. The patio had chest-high, solid stone walls; I liked to lean on them and look out over the spacious green behind the house. When I did this, the gardeners could see me, but only my head and shoulders. Suresh said that was okay.

After I asked several times, and got smacked on the ass exactly twice as many times, Suresh gave in and explained to me exactly where we were. This island was part of an archipelago called the Drake Islands. The people of the Drake Islands were 80% a mixture of Maori and Polynesians; the rest were South Asian people, like him. The Polynesians had a long tradition of elaborate and beautiful tattoos, Suresh told me, although I did not yet understand why he emphasized this.

The Drake Islands were an independent nation, though a small one, with a population of about 20,000, not even as big as Mason City. There were seventeen islands in the Drakes, and this particular island, the smallest, was entirely owned by Master. It was called Misfortune Island in English, because 200 years ago, some big British sailing ship ran aground here, and the crew were stuck for five months before rescue came. The native people called it Takutonga. The island was five square miles, and its only inhabitants were Master, his staff, who took care of the house, the grounds, and the dock, plus Suresh and me. The rest of the island was forest.

It boggled my mind to think that Master owned an entire island. If I owned an island, I wouldn't bother with anywhere else. I wouldn't let myself be called away to meetings in Melbourne or San Francisco. I'd just live on my island and enjoy the good life; maybe get a slave of my own. I wondered if Suresh would be available.

This morning, a week after we arrived, Master said his goodbyes. He gripped Suresh's bare shoulders and said, "You're in charge until I get back. I expect everything to be the same as I left it." To me, he said, "Master Suresh will take care of my slave. The slave should obey his commands as if they came from me. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

Master kissed my forehead, tousled my hair, and said goodbye. I watched him descend the stairs and felt hollow inside. I wondered how far it was to Melbourne.

He had hardly left before Suresh showered me and gave me two tablets to swallow.

"What are these?" I asked.

He smacked my ass twice before answering, "Ibuprofen. For the pain."

"What pain?"

I got smacked twice more. This time, Suresh didn't answer the question, but the look on his face made me want to take the pills.

The training room also held a large table covered with black carpeting. Suresh had me lie on my back on this table, then chained my wrists and ankles to the four corners, so I was held spread-eagled. He heated a pot of wax, then climbed onto the table and knelt beside me, methodically applying strips of hot wax to my public hair, waiting for them to cool, then pulling them off. He kept at this for most of an hour. It didn't hurt as much as I'd expected, but it was still pretty bad. Suresh put a gag in my mouth, a rubber rod with straps that buckled behind my head. He tightened the straps so that the rod was practically cutting into the corners of my mouth and told me to bite down on it. That helped.

After he finished stripping off my pubic hair, he waxed my thighs and my balls, then turned me over and attended to my ass. After he was finished, he examined his work with a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers, plucking out whatever remained before applying a soothing cream.

He released me and led me to Master's study, where he made me sit in a chair and restrained me once again. I was used to restraints by now, but Suresh was locking me in with a thoroughness I'd never before experienced, which made me nervous. My knees were locked to the sides of the chair seat, forcing my legs open wide. My ankles were secured to the back legs of the chair. My arms were locked to the arms of the chair, wrists in front and elbows behind. Even the leather collar around my neck Suresh secured to the back of the chair, and my hips as well. The rubber rod was still clenched in my mouth.

I was completely unable to move, and frantically wondering why.

Suresh left me that way and went downstairs. When he returned, he was accompanied by an older Polynesian man, whom he introduced to me as Kono.

Kono was quite the sight. He wore a green T-shirt and jean shorts, and every visible part of his body was tattooed. Colorful, intricate designs decorated his arms and legs. Even his face bore tattoo lines on his forehead, down his nose, and around his mouth. He was carrying a heavy metal case, which he set on the floor in front of my chair.

I recalled Suresh telling me how important tattoos were in Polynesian culture. I sat immobile as Kono looked me over with a detached, professional air. He and Suresh spoke for a few minutes in a language I didn't understand, but I felt sure I was the topic of the conversation and whatever they were saying would do me no good.

Suresh knelt before me, reached for my dick, and stroked it. Whatever he was attempting, I wanted no part of it. I willed my dick to stay soft, but Suresh knew how to work a dick as well as Master did, and he knelt and sucked on it too, just to make sure. Between his sucking and the simple fact that no one had jerked me off in a week, I was quickly rock hard.

This provoked a comment from Kono and laughter from both of them, as Suresh took a leather cord and wrapped it around the base of my penis, knotting it tightly. He stroked some more and my dick was now as big as I'd ever seen it. The tip was turning purple.

Suresh stood behind me while Kono put on glasses, opened his case, and took out an electric tattoo needle. My stomach sank as I finally understood what was about to happen. Kono plugged in the needle, turned it on, and knelt close. He took my tortured dick in his hand and examined it for a moment, before bringing in the needle and poking it into the tip of my cock.

I yelled as well as I could with the rod in my mouth. It was painful, to be sure, but it was as much the shock of watching someone stick a needle into my cock's most sensitive spot as it was the actual pain, which wasn't even as bad as Master's pain training. Maybe that was the point.

Suresh embraced me from behind the chair, wrapping his brown, muscular arms snug around my chest, while Kono poked the needle into my dick, over and over again. Suresh brought his mouth close to my ear and whispered, "Bite hard on the rod and close your eyes. It will help." His tight embrace comforted me some. "Take a deep breath. Hold it, now let it out slowly. Now take another one."

I followed his instructions. It didn't make the pain any less, but it did calm me a little. I turned my head left and fixed my gaze toward the far wall, where an abstract sculpture in white marble sat on a small table of dark wood.

My eyes wouldn't stay there. I couldn't resist peeking at Kono's work, and to my shock and revulsion, I saw that he was drawing a pair of big, wide eyes on the tip of my dick. Below them he began drawinga nose, incorporating my piss slit into the design.

I made more noise and thrashed around as best I could, but I couldn't move enough to interrupt Kono, who held my dick firmly with one hand as he kept sticking the needle into it with the other. After a while, he lifted my dick and began drawing on the underside, which was even more painful. I yelled again. Suresh tightened his hold on me and whispered shushing sounds into my ear. "It's best if you look somewhere else."

Advice can be sound, but still hard to follow. We went on like this for more than an hour. When Kono was finished with the tip, he began drawing a series of bright green scales along the top of my dick, almost as far back as the little strap that was forcing my cock to stay hard. Then Kono lifted it and colored the underside in a bright orange, though I couldn't see the details of the design.

When at last he was finished, Kono put away his needle and his colored inks and rubbed antiseptic on my dick with a wad of cotton. Only after that was done did Suresh remove the leather cord and allow my poor, terrified cock to shrivel, which it did as if it wanted to withdraw inside my body and hide. Since it couldn't, it just rested on top of my balls looking small and silly. The design Kono had carefully inked into it had shrunken into an indistinct green-gray, but the face on the tip was plain to see, its goofy eyes peering out into the room, making my penis look like a little cartoon snake.

I shrunk back into the chair to wallow in my pain and humiliation, as Kono said his goodbyes and left. Suresh brought some cotton gauze and wrapped it around my penis, securing it with tape. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked. All I could do was make angry noises in reply.

Suresh laughed. "I think it best for both of us if I keep that gag in your mouth a while longer."

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