Start the function – The Academy of Masters and Slaves – CHAPTER 6

The function begins – The Academy of Masters and Slaves – CHAPTER 6

Marc had spent more than an hour trapped in the glass display. Spinning, trapped between three walls. With no room for any movement due to the narrowness of the cubicle, his legs were already tired. To his left was Felipe and to his right the twins, who were in an even worse situation sharing the same space. The body of one of them was pressed against the glass they shared.

His small glass prison was soundproof; he would have spent an hour in the most absolute silence, were it not for the bustling thoughts swirling in his head. Trapped, spinning, Marc could observe the masters moving freely; they enjoyed an abundant buffet of food and drinks, some smoked, chatted freely. He couldn’t hear them, but sometimes he saw them laughing heartily. He deduced that they sometimes talked about him when they pointed at him…

During that time, Marc had to acknowledge that he was terrified. He had been waiting for this day with excitement for years. But only now was he starting to realize his new reality. He was helpless and exposed; nothing he could do or say would save him from what was to come. He loved Álex with all his heart, but he didn’t want their relationship to change. He didn’t want Álex to change; he didn’t want to change. He adored him and wanted to make him happy. But would he be able to? I suppose that’s what the Academy of Masters and Slaves is for, to guide them through that change. That thought calmed him a bit, knowing there would be qualified people to help him.

In one of his routine spins, with his mind submerged in that whirlwind of emotions, Marc observed a door open at the end of the room. He had to wait to complete another turn to discover that two people had entered, a master, tall and sturdy dressed in elegant latex attire, unlike the uniform and smooth suit worn by the rest of his companions. This master wore elegant trousers and military boots, his torso covered in a stylish button-up shirt and his arms covered by a stylish jacket. The latex of that piece was of considerably greater thickness; its burgundy color, its weight, its shine, transmitted an intoxicating power. They were the tutors of his class, his teachers.

The other individual was his slave, evident as he had a tattoo on his forehead, property of master Jorge. A metal collar surrounded his neck, a tiny chastity cage made his penis disappear. And although Marc hadn’t seen it, I’ll tell you, a huge plug filled his ass. As for the rest, he was completely naked, not even gagged. A broad smile adorned his face.

When the glass display stopped spinning, the masters positioned themselves in front of their slaves, and the doors opened. Marc left his spot by stepping down the step and felt the stiffness in his legs from the time he had remained motionless. Álex once again connected a leash to his neck, looking at him with lust. The snap of the carabiner closing joined that of the other slaves who were in the same situation.

The colorful group of individuals forming that class advanced in a disordered line down a hallway. Marc didn’t know where they were headed; he was really nervous. Led by those who were to be his teachers, Marc took note of their bodies. Athletic, beautiful, sexy, they appeared to be in their twenties; past that age, the human body stopped aging. People remained young and with beautiful bodies for the rest of eternity. That raised another question, one of little importance—how old were his teachers? They could be thirty, one hundred, five hundred, or more than a thousand years old. That didn’t matter, since with the end of aging, age was just a number.

This time the path they traveled was much shorter; they turned around a couple of corners and finally arrived at a large wooden door. Upon crossing it, to Marc’s great surprise, they found themselves in a spacious auditorium. The door led to the hallway, which, dividing the seats into two halves, traversed the theater from top to bottom. There were people sitting in the chairs, other academy students, masters. The slaves were kneeling on the floor. Some of the audience members wore the same burgundy latex jacket as their teacher; they must have been the teachers of the other classes.

Marc advanced with his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the ground. The shame he felt being observed in that parade didn’t even begin to compare to what was about to come. The teacher stopped at the front row and indicated that they could sit in those designated seats.

Víctor took the aisle seat, and the twins, his slaves, who had understood the dynamic, knelt on either side. Álex sat next to him and indicated that he should kneel to his right; Marc cautiously obeyed, careful with his movements not to lose his balance. His arms were immobilized, and the hook digging into his ass made the operation difficult. To his left were the three couples he still didn’t recognize, and in the last seat, Marc recognized Eric. He didn’t know why he had sat so far from Víctor and Álex, considering how friendly they seemed, but his thoughts dispersed as he observed the stage.

A formidable wooden cross hung in the center of the stage. His teacher stood before it and arranged a series of gadgets that Marc couldn’t recognize. He also noticed an elegant chair that could rather be considered a throne to his right. To the left, a simple table with an ordinary chair where master Jorge's slave, named so for lack of a better name, sat.

– Those present have already heard this several times, so what I am about to tell is for you, my class, I want you to listen very carefully. – said Jorge as he walked to the front of the stage, directing his gaze toward them and pointing with his index finger at the front row.

Without a doubt, he caught Marc's attention, who, ignoring the sensations of the hand that Álex had just placed on his shoulder, raised his head and focused on Jorge's voice.

– What is about to happen next is very simple; your class has already been formed. IRIS has determined that you are a very compatible group, but it is still to be decided which classes each of you will attend. To decide, I will call the masters one by one. When you hear your name, dear aspiring masters, you will come up here with your slave and hand him over to me. This chair is for you – said Jorge, pointing to the throne – you will witness the interrogation up close and intervene if you see fit. I will tie your companion to this cross and place a series of electrodes that will serve two purposes. The first – he said raising a finger – will allow IRIS to detect if the boy is lying; the second will deliver a painful shock to his body if he lies. – he said indicating a second finger

– Guys, and now I am addressing you, future slaves, the interrogation is for your own good. My slave, who is sitting here, will be jotting down your answers, and afterward we will use that information to decide which classes you should attend. Please, don’t be afraid to answer honestly. I know your tastes are pathetic, but know that you are not alone – he said smiling – We will proceed in alphabetical order; Álex, you will be first.

Upon hearing those words, Marc froze. When Álex stood up, he remained motionless. He didn’t even notice the first tug of the leash. With the second, he knew he had to get up, but paralyzed by fear, he couldn’t. An interrogation? How many things would he have to recount? Álex had to pull hard on the leash to make him react.

He followed him slowly; everyone was watching. His legs buckled while climbing the stairs to the stage. He nearly fell on several occasions, and the discreet laughter coming from the audience did not help his situation. With both feet on the stage, he realized. There was no alternative; he couldn’t escape, and Álex seemed determined. He handed the leash to Jorge and returned to his seat. The best thing was to face it with determination, with bravery; that way, at least the audience wouldn’t laugh at him for being a coward.

Jorge gently guided him to the cross, positioning him with his back to the audience, observing the wooden structure that hung in the air. Giving a slight tug on the chain connecting his collar and the hook in his ass, he said – it seems that your master knows what he’s doing. – The teacher proceeded then. He unfastened the hook from his neck and with rather little delicacy pulled it out of his ass. He then began to free the straps that secured the straitjacket and gradually released his arms. When he was finished, he placed the hook back in its place and with a light touch on his shoulders indicated that he should turn around.

With their faces inches apart, Marc observed Jorge as he placed rather cumbersome wristbands on him. Ten centimeters of leather that tightened around his forearms and left a metal bar in the palm of his hand. From the ends of this bar, two strips of leather extended and connected to a thick metal ring. They were going to interrogate him hanging by his hands, bearing his entire weight on his delicate arms. Jorge proceeded with determined movements, making it clear that he knew what he was doing, maneuvering his arms like a puppet. His teacher was a strong guy, with broad shoulders and defined muscles, even in his neck. He was dark-haired, with black eyes, and smelled very good. A mix of man and latex fused in Marc's nose, provoking a strong desire to embrace him and bury his face in his chest.

He checked the resilience of those new bonds. With one hand, he held his elbow and with the other gave a strong tug on the ring at the end. He smiled back at him with satisfaction and said – I am going to remove the gag so that you can respond to the interrogation, but you shouldn’t say anything unless I ask you… - he warned as he stepped on a pedal on the floor and the cross behind him lowered until it rested on the ground. The relief that Marc felt in regaining the mobility of his jaw was indescribable. He swallowed and breathed freely as Jorge anchored his arms to the cross.

Again defenseless, he watched as Jorge pressed a pedal on the floor and this time the structure traveled the reverse path. Raising more than half a meter above the ground and pulling him along. His arms tensed and he gripped the metal bar within reach of his hands. He noticed that this did not provide any relief and he let go, surrendering to his own weight. He was not aware that he was kicking with his feet until Jorge tied his ankles to the mast of the cross. Although they did not serve as support, they prevented him from separating his body from the cross and greatly limited his movements.

– Is it okay if I place the electrodes on the balls? If not, I’ll have to cut his suit to place them on the nipples – Jorge asked Álex, who remained seated, impassively observing the scene.

Clearly, Marc wanted them on his nipples; in the limited experiences he had had with Álex in the past, they had never tried electrocution. Experiencing it for the first time on his testicles seemed terrifying. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like.

– On the balls is fine – Álex said, who did not share the same fear.

The warm touch of Jorge’s hand stretching his balls relaxed him; he felt relief wash over his body. His arms hurt less, and the hook stopped tearing at his ass, which had suddenly relaxed and opened a lot. The cold of the electrodes tensed him again and brought back all those sensations. However, he felt grateful to his teacher for having offered him those seconds of peace.

– The boy is ready – announced Jorge to the audience, and all the masters present applauded in such a way that Marc could not help but smile. Had it been possible, he would have bowed as a greeting, like actors in the theater.

– Are you ready to write down all his answers? – Jorge asked his slave.

– Yes, master – he responded – all set.

– Good, we will start with some test questions to ensure everything works – he said in a deep voice that filled the entire theater but was directed towards Marc – I am going to ask you what your name is, and you will tell me the truth – he said, looking him in the eyes.

– What is your name?

– My name is Marc – he replied after a few seconds of pause. He hesitated. He knew his name. But what if the electrodes failed? What if IRIS thought he was lying? What would that sensation be like? The electricity coursing through his testicles… Fortunately, everything went well, and the audience erupted into another round of applause, filling him with courage.

– Very good, Marc, now I will ask you again, and you are going to lie. Don’t be scared; it will hurt, but you can take it. We need to know that everything works correctly; afterward, if you always tell the truth, you will never feel it again.

– What is your name?

Marc stayed silent; lying felt like pressing a button that kicks you in the balls—if it’s not your decision, you’re screwed and have to deal with it. But provoking it yourself…

– What is your name?

– Álex – he replied, seeking strength in the name of the boy he loved. Álex smiled, flattered by such a response. He smiled even more when he saw him writhing on the cross.

His entire body tensed; his hands futilely tried to reach his balls. He bent his knees trying to cover himself with his legs, but his feet were trapped in the ankle restraints. Marc threw his head back, closing his eyes, and hit hard against the cross, intensifying his agony. Some audience members burst into uncontrollable laughter; it was humiliating, it was painful.

The shock lasted barely five seconds, five seconds in which Marc writhed. The electricity caused him a sharp pain, like a thousand needles piercing his testicles, invading his bloodstream and spreading through the rest of his body, especially in his abdomen and thighs. When it ended, it took him double that time to relax again and regain his composure. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead; his head hurt from the blow, and his balls burned. It was unfair—why did it have to be him who went first?