8. Game Room

Friday, September 19. 10:30 hours.

At the door of the hotel room, a young man with a helpful appearance dressed in a light blue tunic appeared; he was slender and good-looking, with a short, well-groomed black beard, just like his eyes. He had a graceful mane that floated in rhythm when he walked or turned his head; he carried a large bag that looked heavy, and smiled amiably.

—Good morning, elí. My name is Yusuf, I have been sent by the Very High Kamar Abumón to assist you with whatever you need, especially to manage and process everything related to your inheritance and nationality change. I am at your service.

Jorge considered the possibility that he might be a slave, but dismissed it immediately; he was undoubtedly some kind of mid-level official, a judgment that was completely correct.

—Good morning —he said from the door—. Is it true that everyone speaks Spanish perfectly in this country? —he couldn't help but exclaim with a smile.

—Thank you for the compliment, elí. Actually, I have never left Ketirandia, but in the diplomatic school where I trained, it was essential to handle several languages; in my case, Spanish was one of those I learned, and the truth is that I use it quite often in the business dealings we conduct.

They shook hands, and Jorge invited him to sit in the place that Kamar had occupied on previous occasions. He had had breakfast a couple of hours ago, and the room service had already left everything in impeccable condition. Álex remained naked and curled up at the foot of the bed, asleep; that room had the door closed. Jorge was showered and in a state of almost complete euphoria after the previous night. Yusuf took out a laptop and turned it on. "It's neither Windows nor Linux," —Jorge observed, as he could see the screen because Yusuf had placed it so that both had an appropriate angle for it.

—Well, I understand there are three types of issues we need to address, elí. On one hand, there's the processing of your Ketirian citizenship, which will entail renouncing your current Spanish nationality; we also need to take care of closing all the matters and interests you currently have in Spain, of course applying the criteria you wish, and finally, we will process the inheritance of the High Benassur.

—Can’t I keep my Spanish nationality?

—There is no double nationality treaty with Spain or any other country. Surely you know cases of citizens with two or even more nationalities, for example, Spanish and from a Latin American country; but this is not applicable in our case.

—I even know of those who have two nationalities, for instance, Spanish and American, and they use the passport that suits them best, and as far as I know, they do so without applying any double nationality agreement.

—Ah, I see what you mean. In some cases, states do not actively require citizens to renounce their other nationality, or they do not rigorously verify compliance with the renunciation; this allows some people to maintain both nationalities de facto. In Spain, although there is no double nationality treaty with a country, the application of the law regarding the renunciation of the other citizenship is not strict, and that’s why cases like the ones you know occur; but in Ketirandia, we are indeed very scrupulous about that. But don't worry, elí, you are going to receive a diplomatic-level passport, so you will not only be able to travel to any country but generally without the need for a visa and with much simpler or nonexistent procedures for your luggage.

Jorge recalled what his friend Miguel Ángel had told him about the advantages of having a diplomatic passport.

—I’m going to need to notify some people, starting with my friend the consul, and of course, family and friends; there aren’t many of either, to be honest, but I don’t want them to be alarmed unnecessarily.

The reality is that when they received the news that Jorge did not plan to return, none of them took the slightest interest in knowing anything more; if anything, some niece thought it would be almost impossible to inherit Jorge’s small Madrid apartment when he died, but since she didn’t trust much in that, the reality is that in a short time, Jorge and his memory would begin to fade rapidly from the minds of those who had known him, almost as if he had already died. As for Miguel Ángel, the consul, he would later have a phone conversation with Jorge that served to quiet his conscience and tell himself that he had acted like a good friend. The following year he would retire, return to Spain, and from time to time would try to contact Jorge unsuccessfully to find out how the story had ended, but with little effort and interest, until he completely forgot about him.

—Look, elí, with this notarial declaration you authorize our embassy to manage on your behalf anything you may need. We have opened an account in our Central Bank in your name, and to it, we would transfer what is obtained from the sale of your assets, if you wish to sell any.

“What if I surrender everything I have and then lose it, there’s no inheritance or anything like that, and it’s all a setup to take away my last euro,” —Jorge thought alarmingly.

—I don’t feel comfortable giving an absolute management power for you to sell everything and then have the money deposited in a bank I’ve never worked with, I say this sincerely.

—No, elí, that’s not exactly it. To begin with, our intention is not for you to sell your assets if you do not wish to, but rather that in case you wish to do so, you won’t have to make unwanted trips and then file tax declarations and the like; but you can perfectly maintain your possessions as you have until now, real estate, money in banks, and the rest of your assets; the only thing is that now your tax situation will change in Spain because you will become a foreign national, but that’s not a problem. On the other hand, the personnel you empower will only be able to carry out operations that you promote and authorize, in no way will they have the capacity to initiate operations by themselves. And finally, although we have opened an account in your name at a Ketirian bank, this does not mean any obligation to use it; you can work with banks in Spain or any country, although this may possibly incur having to pay taxes, but you are sovereign in this as in everything. In any case, the account in your name is open with a welcome balance provided by the Ketirian state worth one talent, which as you surely already know is equivalent to one thousand doubloons; at the current exchange rate, just over eighty thousand euros.

These explanations eventually overcame Jorge’s suspicion, and after a few minutes of examining documents and signing them, everything was conveniently resolved, so he carefully kept copies of the authorizations, bank receipts, and a notarized copy of the will that made him the heir of Benassur.

—Next week everything will be ready, elí. In a small ceremony, we will present you with the new passport, and you will thus be formally a citizen of the country.

—On Monday?

—On Sunday, elí, the day after tomorrow. In Ketirandia, this is the first day of the week.

Jorge vaguely recalled that in his early childhood he had learned that same way of numbering the days of the week starting from Sunday, although soon afterwards, Monday became the day considered by everyone as the first day of the week.

—Enjoy the weekend; you can ask the service staff about activities you might like. We have a free entry cinema with the latest international premieres; and the hotel features pools, a gym, massage spa… You can also request toys to enjoy with your slave, either in the room or in the fun room, whichever you prefer.

“I need to investigate that” —Jorge thought, feeling an increasing erection.

—Very well, Mr. Yusuf, I’m reassured then. One last question: I told Mr. Kamar that it would be very useful for me to have someone to ask about my many doubts regarding my new life, someone trustworthy who could explain everything to me; do you think that would be possible?

—you have that person before you, elí. Please do not call me “sir,” for I am a servant at your service.

They headed towards the door while Jorge continued talking.

—How can I reach you if necessary?

—I understand that the Very High Kamar Abumón provided you with a phone; if you need to call me, just dial the number zero; I promise I will always be available and will come immediately at any hour of the day or night, at this moment this is my only task.

—I do not have a charger for the phone and I fear it might run out; can I get one through the hotel staff?

Yusuf couldn’t help but smile and tried not to speak condescendingly to one who was now his master.

—Our phones do not need to be charged.

—Never? That goes against the laws of physics…

—You are right, of course, elí. They have a large charging capacity that gives them a weeks-long autonomy; but the point is that they recharge inductively from points regularly distributed not only in buildings but even in outdoor antennas, these would be the “chargers.”

—Amazing! Such a patent would make anyone rich.

—Actually, it is a technology invented by Tesla, we just applied it.

And he left with a smile.

Friday, September 19. 13:10 hours.

Jorge was glad to be alone. He ordered a sumptuous meal: cold and hot appetizers, grilled salmon with cream boiled potatoes, fruit salad, and ice cream cake. He finished with a coffee with milk and a glass of brandy. He thought a little with remorse about Álex, but he felt it was more practical for him to fast, so he simply had them provide him with water. He ordered him to completely silence any moans, saw with satisfaction that he trembled in fear at the foot of the huge bed, and lay down intending to take a short nap that extended to more than two hours.

Friday, September 19. 17:40 hours.

—Room service? Please, I need to consult something. I have been told about some “fun rooms,” and I wanted information about that.

—Of course, elí —the voice on the other end of the phone replied helpfully—. If you wish to have some intimacy, exercise, and play with your slave, there are fully equipped rooms with everything you need. Do you wish to make use of one of them at this moment?

Jorge didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

—Yes, yes, I’ve never used one before; I would like to try.

—They are rooms equipped for the use of slaves. They have sex toys, cages, and discipline devices, as well as a cleaning station for the slave, all in perfect hygiene condition. There is also a small buffet and comfortable beds. If you wish, you can also request the presence of cleaning personnel for punishment and discipline; would you like us to send someone, elí?

Jorge thought rapidly while desire, curiosity, his old morals, and shame struggled within him.

—Yes, I think it will be ideal if someone helps me, mostly to guide me; I suppose they can leave us alone afterwards.

—Naturally, elí, you can be alone with your slave at any time you wish. So if you agree, what we will do is send the vilicus to your room to accompany you to the fun room to explain whatever you wish and to dismiss you when you see fit.

—Who? —Jorge asked in perplexity.

—Excuse me, elí, the person I was mentioning, in charge of cleaning, discipline, and obedience. Do not worry, it will be someone appropriate.

—Oh, right, yes, yes, very well then, I’ll wait here.

Jorge felt his heart pounding heavily; he was very nervous. He approached Álex.

—Stand up, slave.

The Russian obeyed, nodding humbly. He remained naked.

—Put on a bathrobe. Hotel staff will come now, and we’re going to another place; behave well and also obey what the hotel staff tells you, understood?

—Yes, Master, as you order, Master.

After about twenty minutes, which felt very long to Jorge, a hotel employee appeared in his room looking somewhat flustered.

—Sorry for the delay, elí, as we currently do not have any vilicus available who speaks Spanish—. Jorge began to regret this request and thought he could try going to that place, which seemed so tempting, alone; the employee continued speaking—. But one is already flying over from Alfar who speaks it well and will be at your service immediately.

—And when will he arrive?

—We estimate not before nine in the evening, elí. You can certainly use the room at your leisure in the meantime, or wait for his arrival. Perhaps you could have dinner calmly, and after doing so, it is guaranteed he will already be at your service.

“That will surely be the best,” —Jorge thought—.

—Okay, I’m going to take a walk, or better yet, swim for a while; then I’ll have dinner, and if that person has arrived by then, we’ll go to the fun room.

The employee involuntarily flinched, which did not go unnoticed by Jorge.

—Did I say something inappropriate? —he wanted to know.

—No, elí. It’s just that it’s not a person; our vilicus are state slaves, at the disposal of any elí.

“So I’m going to meet a real slave,” —he thought while his curiosity grew along with a certain fear—. “Let’s hope I don’t mess it up,” —that was his concern.

—I’ll follow your advice. I’m going to put on my swimsuit; where is the pool?

—On the twelfth floor, elí, it’s on the terrace. Towels are available right there if you wish.

—Perfect, I’ll head up later. Ah, one more thing. Can they feed my slave while I’m at it? However, I would like there to be no solid residues left.

—Would you like it to be by way of parenteral nutrition then? Or just water?

—How long does the first one take?

—About half an hour at most, forty minutes if you want an extra-large portion. By the time you come down from the pool, we will have done it, and we won’t disturb him in any way.

Jorge knew that Álex would obey the hotel staff.

—Do it that way then, extra-large.

He put on his swimsuit and took the elevator to the terrace. A pool that looked like it had come out of a television series or a luxury home décor magazine occupied a good part of the floor. It was completely deserted, except for a uniformed waitress by a drinks cart; there was also a stack of impeccably white towels at hand. He left the bathrobe he was wearing on a sun lounger and checked that the water temperature was perfect, just like everything in that hotel. He let time pass, and when a good while had passed after sunset, he lazily dried off, returned to the room, and dined with appetite. Álex remained at the foot of the bed, though a mark between his shoulder and neck indicated he had been fed with food and soma.

Friday, September 19. 22:40 hours.

The sound of the doorbell was very melodious, three notes from a vibraphone that formed a minor chord with a moderate but perfectly audible volume. When Jorge opened the door, he found that the hotel employee with whom he had spoken last time was now accompanied by a tall man dressed in a brown tunic cinched at the waist and sandals; his skull was completely shaved, and he seemed to avert his gaze, keeping it low. Upon seeing him, the idea of a monk was almost immediately evoked.

—Elí, this is the vilicus you requested. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask —he said while smiling and gracefully bowing his head as a farewell.

—I am at your service, Master —the other man hurried to say as he knelt before Jorge and softly kissed his feet, or it would be better to say he kissed the slippers he was wearing at that moment.

Jorge turned red as a tomato, and from his position, he noticed that the clean nape of the stranger displayed a tattoo with a capital letter K enclosed in a circle.

—Get up —he managed to say when he realized the kiss would never end unless he put a stop to it—. Let’s go to the fun room, shall we? Do you know where it is?

—Yes, Master, of course, Master, we have been assigned the main room on the floor, Master. If you allow me to go ahead, I can guide you, Master; order your domestic slave to follow us, Master —the man said, speaking with a correction that did not hide a marked accent that Jorge did not identify.

Jorge ordered Álex, wearing only a bathrobe, to follow them as they walked down the hallway and made a couple of turns. Finally, the improvised guide stopped in front of a red door larger than the others, bearing the distinguishing mark of a drawing of three black flames.

—Master, you need to insert your key.

Jorge rightly assumed he was referring to the card for his room; he inserted it into a slot next to a doorknob very similar to the one in his room. A small green LED and a faint click indicated that the locking mechanism was released; the tattooed slave returned the card to Jorge and opened the door, adopting the manner of one who knows he must do so before the master gets annoyed, although he made sure to offer the way by pressing himself as close to the wall as possible and at the same time keeping the door open for Jorge to enter comfortably; after him came Álex, and finally, the three of them were inside the room; they were finally in the famous fun room.

The room was quite large, measuring a good fifty square meters, and although for the most part it was clear, several separate areas could be glimpsed behind partitions that did not reach the ceiling, which, by the way, was higher than in the room and would be about four meters or even a bit more. A special covering padded the walls, making the room completely soundproof. As soon as they entered, the room lit up; undoubtedly some kind of sensor took care of that; a great variety of posts, crosses, chains, and other elements appeared in view that seemed very promising and suggestive. With absolute naturalness and total absence of any shame, the vilicus removed his tunic and the shoes he was wearing and stood completely naked before Jorge, except for a tiny loincloth held by just a thread that was impossible to discern. While he was undressing, Jorge managed to sit in an armchair that was in the middle of the room on a platform. It was black leather, very comfortable, and could turn in any direction. As soon as he sat down, he received once again the homage of the slave he had just met:

—I am your slave, my Master —he said, kissing his feet again. Álex, for his part, remained standing, with the bathrobe on and his gaze low and completely vacant.

—Enough, slave, I want to talk to you.

—Yes, Master, he said while remaining kneeling with his gaze down, awaiting orders.

—Do you have a name, slave?

—Yes, Master —he replied with a slight smile of satisfaction—. My name is Konto.

—And to whom do you belong?

—I serve you, Master, command and I obey.

—But I have been told you are a state slave or something like that, is that not true?

—It is true, Master, forgive me if I didn’t answer correctly. I am a public slave, any master can claim my services. I have been ordered to serve you today or until you dismiss me.

—Who ordered you that?

—My foreman, Master. I do not know his name, Master.

—How old are you? How long have you been a slave?

—I am thirty-four years old, Master. I was born a slave.

Jorge had the impression that this slave only answered direct questions, and that it would be challenging to hold a conversation from which to extract all the information he needed, so he began to explore options; after all, he thought he was with two slaves, that he was the master, and that whatever he did, no one would be able to reproach him.

—Slave, can you talk to me more freely, asking me questions if necessary? It would be easier for me that way.

—Yes, Master. I have been instructed to converse with the masters if a free form of conversation is required.

From the way Konto expressed himself, it was evident that he was a person with some training, apart from knowing Spanish, which was not his mother tongue.

—Are all slaves in Ketirandia like you? Instructed?

—No, Master. I am a vilicus, and that grants me the immense honor of dealing directly with the masters. I have received very special training for this, which is why I have a name and know how to speak Spanish, Master.

—Is there any order of mine that you would not accept, slave?

—I will obey you in everything, Master.

—In everything? And if I tell you to kill yourself, for example, or to kill someone, whoever it may be?

—I would obey you without hesitation, Master —Konto said with astonishing certainty.

—Why?

Konto didn’t think for a moment about the answer. —Because I am your slave, my Master—. “So simple,” Jorge thought. He was beginning to realize what it meant to be a master and wanted to start enjoying it.

—Give me a display of your body and muscles completely naked, slave.

—Yes, Master.

As if he had known beforehand the order he was about to receive, Konto immediately removed the tiny loincloth and began to showcase all his muscles, flexing every part of his body. Jorge did not need to direct him to turn, to separate his buttocks revealing his anal sphincter, his armpits, the inside of his mouth, his penis, while also showing off his great flexibility, defined abs, and very strong arms and legs. In reality, Konto was not very attractive from Jorge's point of view; his harsh face and perhaps too tall body, with many scars, diminished his charm considerably, although undoubtedly his physique was excellent, and perhaps fifteen years younger, he would have indeed been a beauty to his liking.

He also noticed several peculiarities; he had thick rings in his nipples that seemed to be made of steel, and he lacked testicles, although no genital scar was visible, which made him think that he might be one of those cases where they naturally remain inside the body unless they are operated on to return them to their anatomical position. There was also no trace of hair, not even eyebrows, which indeed gave him an appearance similar to that of a mannequin in a shop window.

—Enough, slave. Why don’t you have testicles?

Konto always replied with his gaze on the ground. —They were removed from me as a child, Master.

—Are all slaves castrated in Ketirandia?

—No, Master. I hope my lack is not an inconvenience for you, my Master —he replied sadly.

Jorge changed to another topic that interested him.

—What can I do here to have fun?

—Whatever you wish, Master.

—Come on, slave, I have my domestic slave here. I don’t know the local customs. I’ve told you to speak to me more freely; you’re not helping me, slave.

Despite the fact that this phrase was relatively innocent, the effect on Konto was enormous, as he became so frightened that he trembled.

—Forgive me, my Master, I am the worst of slaves, I deserve your punishment, my Master. In this room, you can have sexual fun with your domestic slave; I can prepare and clean if you need it.

—I already do that in my room alone with him; I don’t see the difference.

—You are right, Master. You can also enjoy having him whipped, or apply any punishment. You can mark him, put shackles on him, enjoy his screams if that pleases you. I can also cut off any part of his body if you wish, or make him work his muscles, or we can fight, to the death if you order it, Master. We can serve you sexually, or have sex under your orders between us two. Everything that comes to mind that may give you pleasure, Master.

—What is your specialty, slave, what are you good at?

—I skillfully apply punishments, Master. I am often used for that.

—I would like to see how you whip my slave. Prepare a session.

—Yes, Master.

Konto headed towards Álex, swiftly removed the bathrobe without hesitation, and secured each wrist with a ring hanging from a chain; Álex let him do it but trembled with fear. Quickly, he tightened each chain so that the unfortunate one was left hanging with his toes barely two centimeters off the floor; Álex tried to tense his muscles, which made him rise slightly, but the pain and effort made him give in and drop back down, floating again just above the wooden floor.

—What do you wish to whip him with, Master?

—Show me the options.

—Yes, Master —Konto replied while running to fetch the implements he was going to show—. This is the braided whip, very commonly used. As you see, it is made of leather, flexible, and very thin. Depending on how it is used, it can leave permanent marks or not, tear the skin causing it to bleed or only cause pain.

—Does the pain depend on whether it leaves marks or bleeds?

—Not exactly, Master. If it causes bleeding, it always causes damage, but much pain can be caused without breaking the skin more than at the surface. This can be achieved by making the whip wrap around the slave’s body and at the precise moment pulling hard, that produces a very intense rubbing, but generally the skin doesn’t break, although if continued for hours, it ends up having wounds, Master.

—How do you know this? Maybe there are slaves who scream a lot even if the pain isn’t that great.

—Certainly, Master, but every vilicus has had to try each discipline instrument before using it, so one knows well how to use it.

—Have you been whipped with this whip?

—Yes, Master, with this and all the others. Every five years there’s a maintenance check where all punishments are applied to us; my next one will be in a few months, Master. And I am looking forward to receiving it.

—Do you like being whipped? Would you like me to whip you?

Konto knelt and kissed Jorge’s feet.

—I am not worthy of that honor, Master. If you want me whipped, order your domestic slave to do it, Master.

Jorge was impressed but wanted to check this offer for himself.

—I am going to whip you, slave. It won’t be necessary to chain you up, just a few test lashes. Give me the whip and lie face down, slave.

—Yes, Master, thank you, Master.

The slave lay down at Jorge’s feet, with arms spread and legs apart, subtly revealing his penis between them; previously, he had lovingly placed the whip in the hands of the master. Jorge stood up and grabbed the whip, which was lighter than he had thought. He stepped back a few steps to establish a good distance, almost two meters; he tried to familiarize himself with it, waving it, but he undoubtedly handled it very awkwardly. The tip was heavier and thicker than the rest, and he focused on trying to direct it against any part of the anatomy of the slave lying on the floor: an easy target. After two or three timid attempts, he finally managed to strike one leg of Koldo.

—One, Master, thank you, Master! —the slave was heard saying in a tone that almost seemed jubilant.

Jorge exerted all his strength and managed to hit both cheeks of the buttocks. Immediately he noticed that the flesh had broken, and blood was coming out, which he hadn’t expected.

—Two, Master, thank you, Master!

One more against the back, which was marked but not bleeding.

—Three, Master, thank you, Master!

—Stand up, slave —Jorge said while returning the whip and feeling a strong erection, which filled the slave with joy and excitement when he saw it.

—Master, Master, thank you very much, Master, I had never been whipped by a master.

—Well, slave, I am satisfied; now I understand this instrument better. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to teach me anything else right now, if anything it will be later. How long can you whip Álex without him losing consciousness?

—Do you wish him to bleed, Master?

—Yes. I want a mark to remain but not bleeding from every lash forever, just one in each area: chest, back, and buttocks. And for him to be whipped for as long as possible.

—Master, we have plenty of time. As you have ordered me to speak freely, I would recommend that you whip him for an hour throughout his body, without breaking his skin, and at the end, I would deliver those three lashes you have mentioned, Master. In the meantime, I would thoroughly explore his body, striking the sensitive areas with more care, that is, nipples and testicles, and with more force on the chest, back, buttocks, and legs. Do you want me to start in any specific area, Master? Should I whip him on the face as well, Master?

—Start with the chest, slave. Do not strike his face, but I want him to feel intense pain.

—Yes, Master.

Álex was perfectly aware of all the instructions.

—Master, has your slave previously been professionally whipped?

—No.

—He is going to scream a lot; the first time is special. And it’s possible that I might need to take a break, not for me but for him, so he does not faint, although if he does, I have means to revive him and continue; adrenaline can even be injected if necessary.

—Proceed but do it at once, slave.

—Forgive me, Master, you will be obeyed, I am your slave.