The Slave Palace: Wulf and Locke (Kingdom of Slaves Book 1) Page 4

  He stopped, eyes passing over the crowd and stopping at Wulf.

  Wulf scowled.

  “I can see some of you are afraid and trembling. Or angry and in denial. But I will tell you all, this is quite a freeing process. To learn how to be a slave, to give pleasure on command, or to receive it on command, is not a punishment, it is a reward. You are the lucky ones being rewarded today. Perhaps none of you feel you deserve this, but you are here now and the deal is done.

  “Never forget as you enter this grand establishment. You are now a commodity this country values the most, to be treasured, revered and trained.

  ”And so, without further delay, I welcome you.”

  Wulf rolled his eyes. What an act. The man seemed to think they should be grateful to be here. Chained. Naked. The former existence of each one of them wiped into nothingness.

  He moved forward with the others, ascending the front steps and entering a great, airy hall.

  The floor was tiled white with blue patterns of fleur-de-lis. A sloping ramp led down to the main landing. Surrounding them, grand golden pillars rose every ten feet, holding up a second story balcony on either side of the huge room.

  Wulf saw people walking and standing on those balconies. Some turned to look their way as they entered. Only about half of them appeared to be clothed.

  The area was so huge it reminded Wulf of a mall. In fact, that’s exactly what it was, with staircases at each end in each corner leading up to the second level. And on both levels there were closed doors leading to unknown rooms.

  The ceiling stretched up and up to a high tower made of glass. It let the light in and it came down in shafts of pinks, blues, purples and golds.

  Ornate wrought-iron railings with curlicues and leaf designs decorated the open, upper level. The frames around each door were thick wood carved with images of naked men and women flowing into each other. The walls were painted deep red, and every space held a work of framed art of humans in erotic poses, or groups of humans in erotic tangles.

  It was too much to take in all at once.

  Wulf felt like he’d gone from the twenty-first century back in time to some over-dramatic, ostentatious castle of a despot king.

  Everything was about sex and pleasure. Decadence. Vice. Moral decay.

  Here he stood, naked in the midst of all of it. Caught in the currents of Avilan’s evil, an evil he’d spent five years—most of his adult life since he’d turned eighteen—fighting against. And lost.

  He’d failed everything and everyone he’d ever known. He was not fit to live.

  It made him a bit more content to remember he would not be here for long in this decadent castle, or on this Earth. For he was to be put down. Parcival’s handlers had made sure he knew it.

  After a minute of gawking at their surroundings, the group of slaves was approached by several formal-looking men and women dressed in black slacks and black, long-sleeved shirts. They wore thick leather belts, boots and gloves. On their belts hung arrays of tools. Sex tools, Wulf noted. There were whips of varying sizes, chains, handcuffs, and rows of vials that could be medicine or perfume or lubricating oils.

  Slowly, these trainers came forward and separated the new slaves into groups. Men in one group, women in another.

  One man came toward Wulf. For a moment, Wulf thought he was the man who’d bid on him in the garden auction. But no, this man was younger and far sharper-featured, with a hard gaze.

  “Come with me please.” The man’s voice held no inflection. No emotion.

  With a quick snap, he fastened a leash to Wulf’s collar and led him away from the group.

  On instinct, Wulf pulled back against the chain the man now held. The man jerked it hard, and a sharp shock went through Wulf’s body from his neck to his toes. The pain came hard and fast. His cock throbbed painfully. His balls stung.

  The shock was gone as quickly as it came, but it had completely incapacitated him for a second. He was surprised he did not pass out.

  Calmly, the man said, “That was not even a mid-level setting. I will not ask again.”

  Wulf frowned in disbelief, then followed him beyond the large hall to a set of double doors.

  They walked down more lavish corridors, these painted white with sconces that looked old-fashioned and made blue shadows upon the walls.

  Finally, the man leading Wulf turned into a room. It looked like an office.

  The man led Wulf to a hook in the wall and attached his leash to it. Wulf dared not pull against it for fear of a repeat of that terrible shock.

  The man, content with where he’d left Wulf, took his towel from hi and threw it into a hamper. He then went to a black desk and turned on a computer. He sat, took off his leather gloves, and typed on the keyboard, making little huffing noises under his breath.

  After a couple of minutes, he got up with a tablet in one hand, and with the other took something from his belt.

  Wulf could not see what was in his hand until he held it up, and then he almost sighed in relief. The man held a tape measure. He used it painstakingly to measure every inch of Wulf’s body from neck to ankles, including measuring the length and girth of his flaccid cock. He made notes on the tablet as he went.

  Next, he put on a pair of rubber gloves and walked behind Wulf, touching him on the buttocks.

  Wulf said, “No.”

  The man said, “Do not move, please.”

  “Please?” Wulf snorted. “Are you asking my permission?”

  “No. I’m simply being polite.” The man still had no inflection in his tone. “If it helps you, I am a doctor.”

  “It doesn’t.” But strangely, Wulf’s body relaxed at the knowledge. As if some inner program inside his physical body told him this was acceptable when clearly he had not consented.

  The man pulled Wulf’s buttocks apart.

  Without thinking, Wulf jerked against his chain. The shock went through him like a sword going from the roof of his mouth all the way through his gullet and coming out at the groin. His legs trembled.

  An echo of a low scream still reverberated in the room. Wulf realized seconds later it had been his own voice.

  Tears stung his cheeks.

  Still chained at the waist, his hands could not move to wipe them away.

  The doctor stood, hands off, and watched him.

  Wulf did not cringe under the stare, but inside he wanted to curl into a ball and die already.

  The doctor said, “That was a much higher setting that time. Now. Shall we try this again? Stand still. Please.”

  Wulf gritted his teeth.

  Hands parted his buttocks. Something cold touched his most intimate of places. The tip of a finger entered, then was gone.

  That entry into his body was almost as much of a shock to him as the collar. His muscles froze, not in pain but humiliation. But, he told himself, why should he be humiliated? His body was no longer his. And at the auction, the potential buyers had done far worse to him in their examinations.

  The doctor took off the gloves and put on more. He examined Wulf’s ears, eyes and the inside of his mouth. He made more notes.

  He went back to his computer and typed again. Wulf did not want to be caught staring at him, so he turned away but kept the man in his peripheral vision.

  Now the man got up and went to a cabinet behind the desk. He took out two syringes. Both looked silver and huge. He came over the Wulf and stood in front of him.

  He held up the first syringe. “This one is a combo of vitamins and an immunity booster. You are not from our country. You may be exposed to things your body isn’t normally used to.”

  He held up the second syringe. “This one holds a microchip. It will be placed under your skin so should you ever become lost, we can find you.”

  “Lost?” Wulf asked. “Really?”

  The doctor did not reply. He held the first silver syringe to Wulf’s upper arm and there was a click. Wulf felt only a brief sting like air, no needle. The doctor then walked beh
ind Wulf and scooped up his hair, pushing it to the side. The second syringe felt cold against the back of his neck. It made a loud thunk instead of a click. The sting became a burning sensation that radiated outward, slow to recede.

  The hand let go of his hair. “There,” said the implacable voice. “All done.”

  The doctor went back to his desk. He typed for a few more seconds, then picked up his cell.

  “Yes,” he said into the phone. “He’s ready.”

  A knock came at the door and it opened.

  A female all in black entered. She went to the wall where Wulf’s leash was attached and unhooked the clasp. Unlike the doctor, she smiled at him sweetly when she said, “Come along.”

  Wulf followed her into the corridor.

  “This way,” she said. “No tugging. You know what happens if you pull on the leash.”

  Wulf did not respond.

  “I’m told your name is Wulf. I like that. You are quite a specimen. You’re lucky to be here. Normally the masters don’t purchase slaves who are uncontrollable.”

  “You mean dangerous?” Wulf asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that. But yes, you did successfully attack and injure two very highly-trained professional combat soldiers. That is their point of view, of course. Yours could be that you were defending yourself.”

  Wulf swallowed hard. She talked fast. As if this was normal. But it was normal for her. This was her job day in, day out.

  “Anyway, there must be some reason Eminent Master Locke purchased you.”

  “Eminent Master?” Now Wulf had a name to put to the face of the man who bought him. Locke.

  “Oh yes. He’s one of the highest ranking masters of the Slave Palace. And one of the youngest to ever claim a seat on the Board. He bought you as a personal slave, not to be trained with the others. To my knowledge, he’s never ever done that before. Well, I’m helping him as a favor. There was no one else available to take you to your quarters.”

  “You mean cell,” Wulf interjected.

  “No. Your quarters. Anyway, Master Locke’s been so good to me. I’ve only worked here two years and I’ve already gotten three raises. Just last week, he gave me another raise.”

  Wulf wondered what she did to deserve such raises. Did she beat the slaves just a bit harder than the other trainers? Did she make them suffer sexually?

  It was funny to look at her with her young eyes and innocent complexion. She didn’t seem the type.

  “I’m Bunny, by the way,” she said. She kept talking as they walked, careful to keep Wulf’s leash low in her hand, sagging.

  “You’re quite a looker. Very nice. Maybe that’s what caught Master Locke’s attention. But then, I don’t know. He’s around beauty every day, all day. After awhile, you see beyond that. I wonder what he saw in you? More than danger. More than a big cock.”

  Three days ago, Wulf would have been appalled at her statement. Now, he barely acknowledged it.

  “Master Locke wouldn’t risk bringing danger into the Palace unless he had good reason,” she went on. “So what is it?”

  She kept turning her head, looking him up and down.

  Wulf hated the scrutiny.

  “Was Doctor Torvalis totally horrid?” She gave a small laugh. “He’s so funny. He barely talks. Grunts. Some of the people around here call him Doctor Grunt. He takes his job here waaaay too seriously. But he is the best. Or so they say here at the Palace.”

  She made two turns down two long halls. Finally, she stopped, took a key from her busy belt, and unlocked the door.

  “Here we are,” she said and stepped past the threshold.

  Wulf had no choice but to follow, keeping his leash slack.

  He almost gasped to see the room. “Is this Master Locke’s room?”

  “No, silly. Yours.”

  “But I’m a prisoner.”

  “Well, maybe, in a way. But the bars of this prison aren’t metal. Well, maybe they are out front, but not in here.”

  “This is my cell?”

  She laughed. “Yes. It is. You’re lucky to have it to yourself. All new slaves share with a roommate. But Master Locke put you here by yourself. Maybe because you’re dangerous.” She said the last word with sarcasm, as if this were all some joke.

  Wulf looked around. The bed was huge, draped with a gray-blue comforter and stacked with upright pillows at the headboard: blue, green, gray. At the foot of the bed were two reclining chairs upholstered in gray and white. They faced a long window that took up the entire length of the wall.

  In front of the window was a white ledge scattered with green and blue pillows. The view looked out over a sweeping lawn. From here, Wulf could see the palace battlements, and beyond them—for the palace was on a softly sloping hill—the endless buildings and towers of a city. Lirangel, it was called. The capital of Avilan.

  Another joke of cruelty, this was, for giving a slave such a view only cemented the knowledge into them that they would never be free to go into such a world except or unless they were sold.

  For Wulf, the cruelty ran deeper. For he was slated to die.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Bunny asked.

  Wulf turned away. Past the bed to the left were two more softly padded arm-chairs facing a white fireplace with a black grate. Everything smelled clean, like lemons. Above the fireplace, fresh flower blooms of yellow and orange spilled over the edged of an expensive-looking green vase. The fireplace was flanked by two floor-to-ceiling mirrors, giving the room an even more spacious feel.

  Bunny motioned to the open doorway in the wall at the left of the room’s entrance.

  “This is the bathroom.”

  She turned back to face him.

  “You are allowed to take your shoes off here, and put them on when you leave, but otherwise it is against the rules to wear any clothing. You should also know that your collar is not to be removed at any time. To do so will result in more shocks. You also cannot leave this room without an official escort, such as me, the doctor, or your master. If you try to leave this space on your own, the room’s security system will activate the collar. The system automatically comes on as soon as I leave. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

  Wulf stood staring out the long window. He thought it must be almost five o’clock by now. Autumn. The sun was already starting to set. The sea of lights from the city were already coming on. Wouldn’t the statues be cold?

  Out the corner of his eye, Wulf saw Bunny turn and put her hand on the door. Just before she left, she muttered, “I wish I knew why Eminent Master Locke purchased you.”

  The door closed.

  Wulf wished he knew why as well.

  Chapter Seven – Locke

  Locke sat back in his recliner and watched the large flat screen in his private suite.

  The cameras were hidden in every part of Wulf’s room, including the bathroom and shower. For new slaves, it was necessary to keep an eye on them every minute. The collars could only do so much to curb some behaviors.

  Occasionally, new slaves, despite intense vetting, tried to destroy palace property. Some tried to hurt or even kill themselves.

  Wulf did not try to do any of those things. Instead, he moved about the room, panther-like, examining every surface floor to ceiling, even under the bed.

  The way his body flexed, arched, walked, sat or stood exuded a gracefulness that proved great discipline and training. Wulf was a very talented and capable creature. Locke could see that in these first few minutes of viewing him. It was why he’d taken Malik’s bet in the first place and bought the man.

  There was nothing different, strange or wrong about Wulf. Simply, he’d been born in another country, a country that, unfortunately, had decided Avilan was their enemy. And that put Wulf in predatory mode. As a predator, he was magnificent.

  The fact that Wulf considered everyone around him an enemy was a challenge for Locke. People like Wulf saw things in blacks and whites, no shades of gray.

  If Locke were going to
win his bet, he would have to get Wulf to consider all the shades of the color palette of life. Considering the fact that Wulf was no longer free didn’t matter. People who were close to meeting their fates could learn new lessons quite quickly. Especially lessons of the heart and soul.

  Not that Locke had any intention of putting him down. Unless things got completely out of hand. But Wulf didn’t know that yet.

  Every move Wulf made fed like art into Locke’s brain. Little thrills of pleasure zinged all over his body. And when Wulf finished examining the room and approached the fresh flowers, leaning in to smell them, Locke’s skin warmed on his arms, hips, legs. His cock shifted.

  Locke had great control of himself. He became aroused when he wanted to. When he allowed himself to. This—this was different. New.

  Malik had used the word enraptured. Of course Locke knew the meaning, but later he’d looked up the word online. One of the definitions was intoxicated. It fit. Like the finest of wines, Wulf had crossed his path.

  Another definition of the word was captivated. Captivated. He could not get that word out of his head. Because if Locke really was enraptured, it implied that Locke might be just as much a captive, in a way, as Wulf was.

  The idea of that made Locke’s balls tingle. The fever on his skin increased.

  He’d been working too hard. That was it.

  He hummed low in his throat.

  All this was new and different for him. New because he never bought slaves for training that weren’t already subservient, their situations and crimes always of the non-violent sort. It was the policy of the Slave Palace, and his own agenda as well. A violent mind could not be trusted unless a lot of psychological work was done beforehand. The Slave Palace was not in the practice of reforming violent criminals. Nor was it in the business of selling One-Night Thralls.