6. Sunrut

Thursday, 18th September. 4:10 p.m.

On the side table were perfectly arranged all kinds of sweets and pastries to complement the tea, which with its wonderful fragrance filled the environment.

"What variety of tea is this that has so much aroma?" Jorge wanted to know.

"It's just normal black tea, but we prepare it with cinnamon and a little ginger, and that gives it a very strong and spicy character, in my opinion unbeatable. It's very simple, they should copy the recipe everywhere," Kamar replied, taking his cup and taking a sip, even though the freshly poured liquid was almost bubbling.

"Doesn't it burn?"

"Yes, it does burn, but I like it that way!" laughed the ketiri.

Almost at the same time, the very tall Kamar Abumón entered with the service staff and the cart, the dishes and other utensils, and once the essentials were arranged, the dignitary offered to serve the tea himself, which was possibly a great honor, Jorge thought.

"So, are you firm in the idea of leaving for Nairobi tomorrow? Can't I convince you otherwise?"

"You don't have to convince me of anything. I've changed my mind and I want to accept Benassur's inheritance and therefore be part of this country. I confess that I hadn't examined the dossier you left me with yesterday as thoroughly as it deserved, and now that I'm doing it, I've decided that I should take advantage of this very rare opportunity."

"Bravo! From the very beginning I thought you would want to be one of us," Kamar said.

"I confess that I have also been quite disturbed by much of what is said in the documents; I think I'm going to need help to get up to speed and not make mistakes, especially considering that the inheritance not only entails a great honor but also carries a lot of responsibility as it includes production of materials and goods so strategic for the country."

"Don't worry about the latter, your industries and manufacturing operate on their own; in fact, the death of the high Benassur did not bring about any noticeable change in their activities, there is very qualified staff that keeps everything moving forward."

"And so I don't have to make strategic decisions? Do I never have to choose between different business lines, appoint high-ranking officials, authorize or not relevant changes in the factories?"

"Of course, you have to do all that and more; but that's what the technicians are for: for everything. Decisions are always made according to a scientific method, prioritizing efficiency and rationality and leaving out personal choices. You will own everything, but that doesn't mean you have to be involved in the daily operations of the business."

"You take a weight off my shoulders."

"However, you are quite right to assume that you will need time to adapt, and that you will likely have many doubts. But rest assured that everything will be solved in due time. If you agree, we can discuss this during our flight."

"Flight? I thought we were going for a walk around the city."

"Perhaps I didn't make it clear; yes, I invite you to a tour of the city, but flying over it in a helicopter, I assure you it will be a beautiful experience, things have a different charm from the air."

Jorge, who had never flown in this way, accepted with a little fear pretending to be the man of the world he was not. They went down to the lobby and from there crossed to a large inner courtyard where the aircraft that would transport them was waiting, an ultralight helicopter with room for three or four more people plus the pilot; it was a small aircraft with a design that seemed very advanced. They flew at a low altitude, and Kamar turned out to be an entertaining and friendly tour guide.

"The city of Sunrut is very ancient, its origin is mythical, it is said to have been founded by an expedition from what is now Yemen and was led by none other than the Queen of Sheba; the truth is that we have ruins dated back at least to the 6th century BC, and it is quite possible that Phoenicians, Greeks, and Romans settled here. As you can see, our enclave consists of the city with its port and surroundings, and has a very modest size."

"How many inhabitants live in Sunrut?"

"According to the latest census, there are barely two thousand people. Keep in mind that Sunrut, although it has an area of several square kilometers, actually has few active points: the customs post, the hotel, the airport, and the port, where people are mainly needed; the rest of the infrastructures are facilities and housing for the workers."

"Are the workers slaves?" Jorge inquired with intrigue.

"No, all the employees of the hotel and the other facilities you saw are free citizens. There are some slaves in Sunrut, but they are not in plain sight. Gardeners, dockworkers, service personnel, and other subordinates receive a salary for their work," Kamar explained didactically.

"But are there not many slaves in Ketirandia?"

Kamar smiled upon hearing the question.

"There are not many slaves in Sunrut," was his answer.

In comparison to the other African landscapes that Jorge had seen in the previous weeks, the vegetation he observed from the air looked more like a large garden than part of the wild nature. Rows of palm trees gracefully mingled with groups of acacias and other tall trees that alternated with very dense floral bushes. The port was not large, but it allowed the docking of merchant ships of great draft. A swarm of workers busied themselves unloading and loading several huge containers from large cranes that moved along rails.

"With the railroad currently blocked by the Somali guerrilla, our port is now a strategic point for exporting goods, especially to Kenya, with which we have fairly good commercial and diplomatic relations. For us, it doesn't matter so much, because we mainly trade and move goods from the archipelago."

They viewed the airport from a certain distance, as for obvious reasons they could not fly directly over it. There was also an opportunity to rise above the customs building, and Jorge could see perfectly the parking lot with the Rover parked where they had left it. The path they had taken was perfectly visible, and the path that led into Somalia could also be discerned; Sunrut was a wedge embedded between the two countries that seemed insignificant. Jorge had gained confidence and felt comfortable asking Kamar anything that came to mind without considering if it was prudent or appropriate, possibly because although he knew he was dealing with a high-ranking official, he was unaware of his status within the country, much more relevant than he had thought. This open way of conversing was not at all usual for the ketiri's interlocutors, who were genuinely delighted with Jorge's conversation, which contrasted with the very measured speech of officials and even acquaintances, who carefully calculated every word they exchanged with such a high dignitary.

"And have Kenya and Somalia never claimed this enclave?"

"They haven't had the time," Kamar said laughing. "Consider that these are very recent countries, both were born just over sixty years ago. Previously, European countries used to try to take everything for themselves, the English, Portuguese, Italians, Germans were all here... We were always an independent country, and we made sure to be respected. By the time Kenya and Somalia became independent, we were already much more established and organized, so they content themselves with knowing that the other country will never possess this port, and both strive to maintain the balance of power and territories as they are."

"I apologize if I say something inconvenient, but although I see some black people, most of them don't seem to be, you yourself are white, what is the explanation?"

"Ah, the thing is simple. Aside from the fact that some of the citizens come from distant places, as will be your case, think that the core of the country is not in Africa, but rather in a fairly undefined geographic point, between Asia and Africa in any case; and it is certain that we had settlers coming from Asia Minor and Greece for centuries; we feel heirs of what is called the Old World: Africa, Asia, and Europe. In any case, we are proud of our racial mix, skin color means nothing special in Ketirandia."

Thursday, September 18. 7:20 p.m.

Kamar wanted to accompany Jorge back to his suite; from time to time he was invaded by a feeling of unease thinking that he had made a crazy decision, but he tried to drown those thoughts with others more comforting, the most immediate imagine that same night he planned to spend it fucking Álex; the falling of the evening made him calculate that surely he would be waiting for him, and just imagining it made his penis hard. They rode the elevator to the fourth floor, where the suite was. Jorge hurried to open it with the card that served as an electronic key. Inside, Álex was waiting, just as he had supposed. He was dressed in the same clothes, a tight red T-shirt and jeans cut almost at the crotch; as soon as the two men entered, he dropped to his knees.

"I am your slave, my Master," he said as he kissed Jorge's feet.

"Retreat to a corner, slave," was Jorge's immediate reaction, noticing the new buzz cut of Álex. He didn't want to interact with him in front of Kamar, he would do it when he left, hopefully soon.

"Yes, Master."

Álex moved to a corner, almost out of both their sight, and stood there and with his eyes on the ground, completely silent.

"How long have you known your slave, Mr. Redondo?" asked Kamar with feigned indifference.

"Uh... not long," Jorge replied, thinking quickly about how to get out of the situation.

"Of course not. You met yesterday, did you think I didn't know?"

Jorge turned pale and paralyzed, unable to answer, because he knew he was completely exposed.

"What you probably don't know is that your slave, Alexander Sokolov, is a spy for Putin's Russia, actually a mercenary, used to selling information to different governments. Despite his youth, he has worked for several countries, although now he works for his own country. Don't worry, Mr. Redondo; the ownership document you showed us has been validated, its veracity has passed our filter, so in some way he has sincerely delivered himself to you, from our point of view everything is correct, except possibly the date of the contract, but that doesn't change the fundamental. So you can keep him and use him as you intended."

"And if I renounce him?"

"You can do that. In that case, he will no longer belong to you, and therefore you will not be able to inherit from Benassur, as you won't be a master, you won't own any slaves. However, you can leave without any obstacle or inconvenience."

Jorge understood that Kamar already knew all this when they were flying, and possibly from the beginning, and yet he had not punished him for it, but quite the opposite. At least this was good.

"And what would happen to Alexander then?"

"He would be judged according to our laws, which are very strict; according to them, he would be executed without a doubt. Yes, Mr. Redondo, because in Ketirandia the death penalty is in force, although it cannot be applied to our nationals, but it can be applied to foreigners who may endanger our country."

"It was a hypothetical question. I will keep him, and if there is no legal impediment, I would like to act as I promised, inherit Benassur."

"There is no impediment. Have fun with your slave, he is saving your life. He's yours, use him as you wish. And I will prepare all the necessary documentation. I won't bother you anymore today, in fact, I think we won't be able to see each other for some time, other matters require my attention. But I will send someone trustworthy tomorrow, he will be your assistant and guide for everything you need, you will see that he will make everything easier for you. For now, I leave you, I'm sure you will have a fun night with your slave now that everything is clearer for both of you. By the way, every time you feed or give your slave something to drink, it's interesting that you use veterinary products and not your own food."

"Because that way the soma will make him obedient again?"

"That is a good reason; but also because it is the most correct behavior; it is not forbidden to do otherwise but perhaps you are interested in starting with the usual and once you are sure of everything, start making exceptions."

"Perfect, I will do that. But out of curiosity, what would happen if I stop giving him soma? Would he end up not obeying?"

"In reality, that couldn't happen, he would simply struggle more, but he would always obey. Don't fear a possible rebellion: it's impossible. Once the soma acts at a cerebral level for more than forty-eight hours, the imprint of obedience is indelible. Very soon he will be your slave irreversibly, unless he asks to be given the antidote in the next few hours, and meanwhile, the soma he has injected and taken from the food will keep him properly submissive, as it should be."

After bidding farewell to Kamar with sincere relief and gratitude, Jorge closed the door and prepared to spend a session of absolute pleasure at the expense of his slave. He was very curious to see what had happened to him both physically and mentally.

Thursday, September 18. 7:50 p.m.

"Come, slave," Jorge commanded.

"Yes, Master," said Alex as he ran to kneel in front of his Master.

Jorge sat on a nearby chair and began to touch his erection over his pants.

"Undress immediately, slave," commanded Jorge.

"Yes, Master."

Alex quickly removed all his clothes.

"Stand up, slave. Put your hands behind your head, the elbows wide open. Feet slightly apart." Alex obeyed quickly. "You will do this every time I snap my fingers."

"Yes, Master."

"Let's see. Kneel, slave!"

Alex immediately fell to his knees in front of his Master. Jorge snapped his fingers and Alex stood up with his hands on his head at lightning speed. Always without daring to look at his Master, but with his gaze low. Jorge felt a delicious thrill in his testicles. He then looked closely at his slave for the first time that day. Alex's body shone in a special way because it had been rubbed with a moisturizing product that gave him a very good appearance, and there was no trace of the hair that had previously covered his testicles, chest, and other parts: some might say, none. He examined with satisfaction his armpits, and had him even show him his anal sphincter, now absolutely clear. His face had returned to its previous appearance, with no signs of swelling on the lips, and even the shaving of his face was very precise; all these novelties, plus the very short hair, made the slave represent Jorge's ideal of beauty. He grabbed the slave's testicles and squeezed them at will, feeling the painful spasms he tried not to visualize, but undoubtedly experienced. The penis was definitely small, but on the other hand, the testicles were quite fat and fun to play with. Without letting go, he gave the next order.

"Kiss me passionately, slave."

"Yes, Master, thank you, Master," Alex replied, leaning and partially opening his mouth for his Master's tongue to invade if desired.

Jorge squeezed his testicles painfully, but he concentrated on responding to the kiss as sensually and pleasantly as possible, despite a strong repugnance trying to break through his inner self. After a long and wet makeout session, Jorge ordered him to open his mouth, spit into it, and made him swallow, task which Alex obediently completed.

"Thank you, Master," as always.

At that moment, he remembered that Alex had miserably deceived him. He sat in front of him.

"Kneel, slave."

"Yes, Master," he replied as he almost immediately obeyed.

"I now order you to speak to me with total honesty, even if by doing so you say something that displeases me, slave."

"Yes, Master."

"Are you a spy? What were your intentions when entering the country, slave?"

"I spy for the Russian government, Master. I wanted to take photos that could reveal important data about how the ketiri's electric interference system works."

"How were you going to take those photos? With the Nikon camera you showed me?"

"No, Master, that was a distraction in case they suspected me. I have an analog miniature device shaped like a lip balm stick; it allows recording images in very high definition. I knew they might suspect me, so I would place the device inside your toiletry bag so that you would be the one to take it out of the country; that way, if something went wrong, I would be out of suspicion, Master. I apologize for that, my Master."

"Don't worry, slave, I'm going to take a good revenge for that. Where is that disguised camera now?"

"In the bathroom, Master."

"Is there any other device I don't know about?"

"No, Master, that's all."

"Bring it, slave."

"Yes, Master."

Alex stood up, picked up the microfilm device camouflaged as lip balm and gave it to his Master, while resuming his kneeling position.

"Destroy it, slave. Use your hands and brute force to crush it, reduce it to pieces. You have one minute, slave."

Alex took the small cylinder and crushed it with his hands, although he only deformed it slightly. He quickly put it on the floor and crushed it with his knuckles with blows that were necessarily very painful for him. The cylinder began to crack, and at one point it fractured.

"Continue, slave, reduce it to dust."

Alex used his nails, his teeth, his heels. One hand bled, and he made several small cuts in various places. The mini camera and its wrapping had undoubtedly been thoroughly destroyed. Jorge had him collect all the pieces and give them to him; he then went to the toilet and threw all the shards into it, then flushing the toilet. He returned to his kneeling slave.

"You deserve punishment, slave."

"Yes, Master, I know. However, I want to ask you a favor before it's too late."

"How do you say that, slave?" Jorge asked quite astonished.

"My Master, I am your slave. But respect my sexuality, and above all, don't let the soma take complete control of me. I beg you, if you order it now, I can be given the antidote. If you do this, Master, and let me leave the country with you, I swear that Russia will not forget it, nor will I, Master. Tonight, I will sincerely offer you a sexual show so that you can give yourself pleasure, Master. I know you are good, Master. Please, don't dishonor me, don't touch me intimately like yesterday, Master. I beg you, I implore you."

Jorge understood that the battle of the soma was still