11. Alfar Road

Monday, September 22. 8:10 AM.

Jorge woke up feeling as if he had just lived a dream; in fact, he searched for his brand new diplomatic passport to ensure that his memories were not false and that what had occurred was true. He also reviewed the copy of the will: everything turned out to be joyously authentic. The room was so beautiful… he stood up, letting his feet sink into the thick carpet, and took a few steps to reach the console in front of the bed, on which rested an artistic ivory figure representing a dancer in balance; if it were authentic, it must have cost a fortune. He felt comfortable, almost at home. The sun filtered through the large window, tinting the room orange and making the beautiful brocades on the walls shine. The decorative style oscillated between the elaborate and the minimalist, creating a very clear space but adorned with luxury details everywhere. He searched the background music for a tune to his liking; a jazz orchestra played soft melodies that seemed written to soothe the soul. Álex had knelt as soon as he sensed that his Master was awake; naked and with his hands behind his back, he stared at the floor awaiting any command, not daring to make a sound. Jorge, also naked, brought his flaccid member closer to the slave's mouth, who, without the need for words, began to lick and suck it with absolute dedication. Using his tongue, he sought sensitive areas to apply himself to them with strength and delicacy, and through the sense of taste, he looked for any dirt he could clean and swallow. With Jorge's penis now erect, he decided to pull it out of the slave's mouth and turn around; the slave, finding his face in front of his Master's butt, began to lick it eagerly and then penetrate it with his tongue, just as he knew his Master liked it, without using his hands. He savored the bitter secretions found in his Master's anal sphincter and once again became aware of who he was and what he was doing.

—Thank you, Master, I am your slave.

Jorge felt great pleasure when Álex ate his ass because he knew it humiliated him while he experienced a delicious massage in such a sensitive place. He knew that many tops did not allow their asses to be eaten, on the contrary, they ate the bottom's ass before fucking him as part of the sexual ritual; however, he, being totally active, had always enjoyed getting his ass eaten, something that in his view lowered and humiliated the one who ate it, thus exalting the one who experienced the pleasure of feeling a tongue humbly entering and exiting his ass. For it to be perfect, he needed another slave to suck his cock while getting his ass eaten, something that required the involvement of two slaves; and he told himself that not much time should pass before he experienced something like that. The wet anal massage awakened in Jorge the urgent need to evacuate his belly, undoubtedly full of remnants of the exquisite meals and dinners of the past. He let out a fart that hardly made a sound, as his anus was dilated, but which filled the room with stench; and Álex, who did not stop applying his tongue, also noticed that at the same time his mouth was saturated with the foul and unmistakable taste of the feces that were accumulating in the intestines, waiting to come out.

—Thank you, Master, I am your slave —he said sincerely.

Jorge had never been fond of scatological practices, the mere idea or mention of which actually repulsed him. Feeling that the evacuation was already imminent, he entered the bathroom and sat on the toilet while Álex gave him a blowjob; the sound of the shit hitting the water merged with that of the slave's mouth diligently at work. Jorge had noticed that if he ejaculated just as his anal sphincter dilated expelling shit, the orgasm was even more intense; he achieved his objective. He finished completely emptying his insides a little later and then ordered:

—Clean with your tongue, you slave!

He emphasized the last word because he knew that doing so made Álex feel the urgent need to fulfill the order; this happened as well on this occasion. It was the first time he made Álex eat shit, who until then had cleaned his butt using wipes but not with his hands or, much less, with his tongue.

—Yes Master, thank you Master, I am your slave my Master, order and I obey, your wishes are commands for me, Master.

And he began to lick and swallow the shit stuck to Jorge's ass, which was not little; he had a hard time holding back the urge to vomit, but he managed to, although there were some attempts at retching he could not avoid. The Master thought that his slave was truly part of the same shit he was eating and felt disgust. When he finished, he ordered him to wash up using the toilet water; he showered for a long time and alone, convinced that slaves were less than animals, less than trash. After leaving the shower, he requested a service sheet for the slave and ordered that he be thoroughly cleaned and that all body hair be shaved, including head and eyebrows, as he had seen in Kondo, although the difference was that Álex's hair would grow back.

Monday, September 22. 11:00 AM.

Jorge wondered what his life would be like going forward and what specific steps would be most convenient when Yusuf arrived to clear his doubts.

—Good morning, elí. Allow me to congratulate you wholeheartedly on the granting of your citizenship, it is a truly rare honor in Ketiris. I apologize if I use this term instead of “Ketirandia”; I confess that although “Ketirandia,” “Ketyrland,” and similar names are the international names of the country, they strike us as jarring, in fact, I always think of “Disneyland” when I hear them; they seem unserious, and even funny to me. Among us, we always say “Ketiris,” what do you think, elí?

—I much prefer Ketiris to Ketirandia and I fully understand that those international conventions sound strange and invented; I will use the original name going forward, and I appreciate you warning me.

—At your service always, elí.

They sat at the work table, and the employee extracted a series of papers from the portfolio.

—We have some tasks ahead. First of all, I inform you that the sale of your assets and properties in Spain is already underway, according to your instructions; the corresponding funds will be transferred to your account, and our managers will carry out the tax liquidation next year, as mandated by law.

—Perfect, I take it that will happen and that I can therefore forget about it.

—It will be so, I assure you, elí. And the next thing is that you transfer to your estate, that is, to your main house in Alfar.

—In the archipelago?

—Yes, elí. There resides the Council of Government, and it is where the main estates of most of the country's notables are located.

—I understand that having legally inherited all of Benassur's assets, it is now something I own, and therefore I could, for example, stay in this hotel for a while; I do not say for free, as the courtesy I have enjoyed until now no longer makes sense to prolong, but with the funds in my account I could comfortably pay for my stay, could I not?

Yusuf's expression showed clear astonishment and alarm.

—Well... of course, elí, it could be as you say; but what is planned is your assuming possession, in fact, a grand celebration is being prepared in your honor. You are now one of the most important people in our country, owner of very valuable resources, and I am sure you will enjoy fully in your domains. All your employees are eagerly awaiting your arrival; naturally, you will be free to dismiss them if you wish, although they are learning the essentials of Spanish at a rapid pace.

—Do I have employees? Are they slaves?

—I mean salaried employees, elí. On one hand, there are some personal advisors in key places, like your main house and, of course, many others who perform purely technical tasks in the mines and other industries you own. You also have many slaves, of course, although those marked with the brand of Benassur Gurión have already been sacrificed.

This information intrigued and alarmed Jorge in equal measure.

—How were they sacrificed? And what is that brand you mention?

—It is an ancient and deeply rooted law. Each elí, each master, can mark those slaves whom they consider special for some reason; this demonstration of interest is seen as a great honor for the slave, who receives their mark with gratitude; their life becomes irrevocably linked to that of their master, such that they lose it if their master dies before them.

—What kind of mark is it? A tattoo? I saw that the vilicus who served me recently had a symbol tattooed on the back of his neck, but I thought he was a state slave.

—He indeed was, elí; those slaves do not have a specific owner; they are distinguished because their mark is always a letter K, the initial of our homeland; but like the brand of fidelity, which is what marks a slave to their master, it is stamped with a hot iron and always in the same place, the back of the neck, so that their public servitude is well evident as any elí can use their services.

“So it was not just a simple tattoo,” Jorge thought.

—And where do the other slaves get marked? —Jorge wanted to know with morbid curiosity.

—Wherever their master decides, whether on the chest, the genital area, the buttocks, the back, the skull… wherever they prefer, even on the face. Wherever it is, it will be a great honor for the slave to carry it. And each elí's mark has a unique design chosen by them.

—I would like to know more about slaves, if you don’t mind, as I do not want to make any mistakes or do something improper or illegal.

—Of course, elí, this is the moment to talk about it if you wish.

—What happens to slaves during trips outside the country? Are there no legal issues due to traveling to a country where slavery is not recognized? Do slaves not try to escape or even report their masters?

—I could tell you that a slave would never do that, even if only for the effect of the soma that helps with their control, apart from the training of so many years; but the fundamental reason why this could never happen is that it is illegal for a slave to leave Ketiris, it is the only property that an elí cannot take with them on their travels abroad. Naturally, they can travel in the company of employees who assist them or hire them at their destination, but logically a servant is a citizen, while a slave has no rights.

—Understood. I would like to buy other slaves, is there any inconvenience? And how would the purchasing process work? How to choose them?

—they can be bought in any market; every city usually has one, although exceptionally in Sunrut there is none. Slaves usually have a fixed price, established by the State; this applies to the slaves we call "brutes" or "of strength," that is, slaves for use in mining, agricultural, industrial exploitations, etc. Generally, these slaves are acquired based on their characteristics, like age, weight, strength, etc.; this is information that accompanies each slave. It is not usual for an elí as important as you to make these purchases; instead, they are usually delegated to some employee entrusted with it. There are also slaves called "personal," suitable for the direct use of their masters; these are individuals with especially suitable physiques who have received specific training and conditioning; their price is also set by the State and is for sale; depending on the case, sometimes the elí selects them themselves or delegates to someone they trust who knows their tastes and needs well. Finally, there are "select" slaves, sold at semi-annual auctions that only elís holding the High title can access, which are very few. I sincerely do not know what your situation is in this regard; the person from whom you inherited the fortune, Benassur Gurión, certainly held the High title, but it is an individual honor, not inheritable.

—I understand. In any case, what are the prices of a "brute" slave and a "personal" one? And what is the state of my checking account right now? We haven’t talked about that yet...

—A brute slave costs little; at this moment I believe it is about twenty doubloons; this is a figure that sometimes varies; last year it was more than thirty, meaning sometimes it goes up or down depending on production. And a personal slave costs exactly what five hundred brutes, meaning their current price is ten talents, that is, ten thousand doubloons.

Jorge quickly made the conversion and concluded that a "brute" slave cost one thousand six hundred euros and a personal one eight hundred thousand euros. It was to be expected that "select" ones would reach astronomical figures…

—As for your personal fortune, here you can check the balance of your account at the Central Bank —Yusuf said while handing Jorge a printed report.

Even though he had already known more or less what his inherited fortune was, the amount still seemed fabulous to him, especially when it appeared under his name and with bank certification.

—Is this mine? —he asked astonished.

—Of course, elí. And it refers only to cash, your personal fortune is vastly greater because the total of properties, businesses, and other assets is several times that amount. You are very rich, Mr. Rojo —Yusuf assured him.

It was more than eighty-four million talents; they even took the trouble to provide the equivalent in euros: more than six thousand seven hundred million euros, a true extravagance. And to top it all off, Yusuf assured him that his total fortune was much greater; madness.

—Alright, let’s go to that main house you mentioned. How would we make the trip? I suppose by plane; I hope you inform me of the flight options, schedules, and so forth.

—It would indeed be by plane. There are no regular flights to the archipelago, so it is necessary to travel by private flight.

—Do I have a private airplane?

—No, elí. You will have to rent one, but do not worry, I will take care of everything if you authorize me to incur expenses in your name. You just need to sign this document which allows me to do so —he said, extending another document—; but don't worry, each expense must be later approved by you for the bank to validate the payment.

—I trust you, Yusuf —Jorge said as he signed—. And when could we leave? Can I take Álex with me?

—If you wish, I can request that we move to Alfar this very afternoon. The flight lasts less than an hour; you will be able to sleep in your estate, and tomorrow your official welcome will be held. As for the slave, he can travel in the cargo hold or in the cabin, whichever you prefer.

—Well —Jorge replied while hesitating over which option to take— I think it will be better for him to remain in the cabin. I do not have another slave, at least not with me.

—Very true, elí.

—By the way, I have a curiosity that I don't know if you could clarify for me, Yusuf.

—I will do my best, elí.

—In which category would my slave Álex be included? I mean the three you mentioned: brute, personal, and select.

—I would have to examine him, elí. And it would only be my impression, just an opinion.

Jorge called Álex, and he presented himself before them. He was naked, with an anal plug and a cock cage. He still had patches on his open sores, although the rest of the whip marks were beginning to swell down.

—Obey whatever this man tells you and let yourself be examined —Jorge ordered.

—Yes, Master.

Yusuf looked at him with an expert eye, made him trot around the room for a while, and perform some gymnastic exercises to test his strength, endurance, and flexibility.

—He would be a good strength slave, a brute. I am not sure he would make a good personal slave, although for that it would also be necessary to assess his performance in giving sexual pleasure; I imagine he must be good, since you have chosen him, so if you decide to sell him, he will likely be classified as a personal slave; but I’m not sure.

—Can I ask you a personal question, Yusuf? I won’t mind if you don’t want to answer.

—Of course, elí; and I will answer sincerely and without reservations.

—Are you homosexual?

—In behavior, yes, elí. It is what corresponds to all of us. I have always lived surrounded by other men; I find their company natural; I understand them and they understand me; I have very good friends and enjoy being with them. Sometimes I have thought about whether I would enjoy being intimate with a woman. I know they are different from us; they intrigue me in many aspects, and I like to look at them, even though I have barely seen a few, but the naked slaves I have been able to see are very exciting to me. So I really don’t know if I could find pleasure in heterosexual relationships; I think maybe I could.

—Are heterosexual relations prohibited?

—Not entirely, elí, but as they are unnatural, they are strictly regulated. If a man and a woman wish to live together as a couple, a special permit is granted so they can do so, but both are sterilized beforehand to ensure their children cannot inherit that anomalous tendency; they are also assigned a special work destination and are subjected to monitoring of activities. Personally, I would never want to go that far; I would lose my civil servant position and it would be socially frowned upon: it wouldn’t be worth it, to be honest. And with my current bedmates, I can relieve sexual tension perfectly; between friends, sex is always pleasurable and fun, without complications.

—Is marriage between men legal then?

—Of course, elí, for centuries; but in my case, I don’t think I will ever get married; I’m fine as I am.

—And wouldn’t you like to buy a slave to see if it brings you pleasure?

—No, elí, I don’t have permission for that. I am a free citizen, but without the right to possess animals; that is a privilege I have sometimes dreamed of, but I imagine I will never achieve. So I cannot own slaves… nor slave women.

—Who pays your salary?

—You, elí —Yusuf replied while smiling—. I was assigned to your entourage of employees by the decision of the Very High Abumón from today, although that assignment is provisional until you ratify it.

—Wow, so you are my employee —Jorge said, smiling in turn—. And what is your salary? Are you satisfied with it?

—My salary corresponds to my administrative category, which is the highest: forty doubloons a week. It is a good salary.

That was four thousand two hundred euros every week! Much more than Jorge had ever earned. Definitely, Yusuf was someone he wanted to have by his side and fortunately, he could afford it; well, that and anything else; it was time to stop thinking in economic terms; for him, weighing things according to their cost was over.

They ate together in the hotel room. Yusuf briefly left to give the necessary instructions, and in the afternoon a luxurious electric vehicle with tinted windows took them both to the foot of the plane waiting to fly to the island of Alfar. Jorge did not want to worry about any detail, confident that his small luggage would already be in the hold of the ship; he also checked with satisfaction that Álex, covered with a modest brown tunic, was waiting on board; he did not want to know what his means of transport had been.

The plane was white, with some black and golden details. A friendly flight attendant took care of helping them with the takeoff and landing maneuvers; Jorge also greeted the pilot, who, like the flight attendant, spoke French and confirmed that they treated him with the reverential deference of someone in the presence of an important character. The flight was short, just about forty minutes, and during it, all they could see was an unmoving sea that disappeared as soon as they crossed above the clouds. They landed after a short maneuver, and the plane came to a stop; shortly after, the door opened and a staircase was quickly wheeled up; it smelled of sandalwood, hibiscus, and other plants unknown to Jorge. A large bright sign read "Aeryphar Bisinia." Another vehicle, which could be said to be a twin of the one that had taken them from the hotel, was waiting at the foot. He was already in his new home.