One Year – Part 21

By Taurus

Part 21 – “Severance”

Day 257.

Russell’s phone rang.

“Director Preston,” the caller ID read.

“Good morning, Director,” Russell said with a yawn, and with a hoarse morning voice.

“Russell, if you’re done with your morning routine, please come to the office.”

“But what about James?”

A pause from Preston.

“I’ve assigned someone else to do your job, at least until lunch.”

As requested, Russell went to the director’s office – in reality just an office desk, with an empty area opposite the working space and a window overlooking the sand track.

The furnishings were nice enough, with the chairs being leather, and the shelves being decorated with trinkets among other pleasant installments.

“Good morning, Director.”

“Right, please, sit.”

A plaque on the desk wrote “Director, Daniel Felix Preston”, between Russell and the director.

“So we’re here to talk about your relationship with the slave you’re assigned to.

“I’ve noticed that handlers who get too attached to their slaves can have serious issues when they inevitably have to part.

“I’m worried that you’re too attached to him. It’s not gonna be pretty when he leaves.”

Russell sighed. The worst has come true – no.

Who was he kidding, the worst had come true the moment he made himself handler. He had made his decision, and he will now live with the consequences of all the things he had done.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, and if you’ll excuse me, I have a slave to take care of. He can be, uh, nervous without me around.”

Before long, Daniel saw the familiar shape of Russell in the outdoors compound, who frantically ran in front of the rickshaw-pulling slave, and quickly took over from his temporary substitute.

Is it just him, or is the slave going more smoothly with his handler – or master, rather – in tow?

There was an air of harmony about the track, absent just moments ago.

Having confirmed his hypothesis, Daniel moved to the computer, and started drafting a document.

***

Out on the track, the sun was searing hot and the air was static, quite unlike the air-conditioned haven that was the director’s office, yet Russell enjoyed it more out there nonetheless. This was reflected in his enthused sprint towards the track, towards the call of nature and the endless open sky –

Just kidding. He was concerned deeply for his slave, who was on the leash and under the flogger of someone else.

As he sprinted onto the compound, he saw his temporary substitute giving the slave a lash to speed up, letting out a loud crack. The slave was unfazed and obeyed the command, but Russell ran out on the track and called for a pause and handover back to him.

He could not trust anyone, not when it came to his slave.

James held up his rickshaw bar perpendicular to himself as Russell inspected him; strong, firm muscles all round, and having a good tolerance of physical pain – James barely let out a moan when Russell rubbed on his back where he had been flogged.

As for the front, drool slowly dripped from the bit gag, which meant he was hydrated properly. Moving his gaze downwards, Russell noticed the body hair had grown from barely noticeable to a thin coat, with thicker patches on the chest and abs – neglecting it when he groomed his slave expectedly had that effect. Regardless, it was a look he liked, and the slave did not seem to care much for it.

He gawked at his prized specimen. Usually, he would scrutinise this body in great detail under the laboratorial lights in the cell, which forbade all shadows from appearing. Even the tiniest imperfection, the smallest blemish was easily visible under the unnatural conditions. Now however, the sunlight seemed to saturate his slave with colour and shadow, concealing all but the most easily visible of flaws – of which there were none – and he looked beautiful.

Russell pinched and twisted the slave’s nipples, like turning on the ignition on a car.

“Ready to get back to work again?”

James nodded.

As the slave pulled his master along on his rickshaw, there was a lot of time to be made use of other than for humming tunes. Eventually, Russell had to confront that awful, awful occurrence not far in the future – day 365, when farewell was destined to hit.

This heavenly time would come to an end very soon.

He wondered if the slave that pulled him along shared his sentiment, if he was equally unwilling to say goodbye when the time comes.

To be continued …

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One thought on “One Year – Part 21”

  1. I mean… I, too, will surely be unwilling to say goodbye, to this fantastic story when the end comes…

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