Submit

You swallow hard, then nod your head. Your whole body trembles and your voice quavers as you say, "I accept my status as a ****, and I will submit to processing, Sir."

"I thought you would," your Master's Father says with a small smile. "This **** will start your processing." He nods toward the **** who is holding your chain. "He is one of the highest-ranked slaves on the island. You will submit to him completely and obey all his commands as if they came from Me or My Son. Understand, ****?"

"Yes, Sir," you say quickly.

"I am 'Lord,'" your Master's Father corrects you. "You will address your superior slaves as 'sir.'"

"Yes, Lord," you agree.

"Expedite him as much as possible," your Lord says to the **** holding your chain.

"Yes, Lord," the tall, muscular **** says with a bow, then he yanks your chain and starts walking toward the concrete building you now see ahead of you. As you shuffle along behind him, you see that he has faint scars on his back, but no fresh welts. Unlike many of the other slaves you saw on your way in, while his hair is cropped short, he is not shaved bald.

There is a heavy metal door in the concrete building which opens as your overseer approaches. As soon as you walk through it, it clangs shut again. Your overseer reaches up and attaches the free end of your chain to a rail in the low ceiling.

"You will proceed through the complex, ****," the overseer says, pointing down the corridor. You look up and realize the metal rail goes down the corridor. "I will be tracking your progress and adjusting your course as necessary. Understood, ****?"

"Yes sir," you say quickly, though you really don't completely understand.

"One more thing," he says, and suddenly he is standing right in front of you, towering over you. His big, powerful hand grabs your balls and he squeezes. Hard. You gasp in pain and shake from head to toe, but there is no means of escape. "Your performance will be assessed objectively. But if you fail, I will be the one who decides what happens to you. Where you end up. And it just so happens I need some more slaves in the reclamation plant. And if I can get slaves I can use for...other purposes..." he growls and grins as he squeezes harder, "...all the better."

He yanks hard on your balls as he shoves you down the corridor. You stifle your whimpering, at this point suspecting that everything is being observed and will be part of our evaluation.

The rail to which your chain is connected leads down the corridor and then around a corner. But a few steps down that corridor it comes to an end at the intersection with another corridor. For a moment you are not sure what to do, and then as you are looking up at the rail's dead end, a section of the ceiling rotates, taking the L-shaped bit of rail with it, and comes to a rest at the passage to the right, where the short section of rail now connects to another rail going down that corridor.

You proceed down the new corridor, feeling the collar on your neck seem to grow heavier as your chain slides along the rail above you. You go through three more intersections before finally arriving at what appears to be a dead end. The rail seems to lead right into a wall. You stand there for almost a minute before, finally, the wall splits open and reveals a small chamber, and three other passages into the chamber, where three other naked, collared and chained men are standing there looking as scared as you feel.

You step into the chamber first, knowing you have **** in the matter anyway; and the other three slaves follow your lead.

As you look at them, you think you recognize them from the ship you had been on before ending up on this island. One of the three is already bruised on his face and torso, with bright red welts all over his back, ass and legs. He is quiet and subdued. The second is a small, frail man a little younger than you. He looks terrified, and is shaking violently from head to toe, and he has tears streaming down his face. The third is about your age, though he's bigger and stronger than you. He is raging mad, and from the moment he steps into the chamber he alternates between shouting at the ceiling and trying to rile up you and the other two.

"Just shut up, just shut up," the frail man whimpers at the shouting man. "Tell him to shut up," he pleads to you.

But you ignore both of them. These other slaves are none of your concern, and you are still certain everything you do is being watched. Everything is a test. You are determined to show that you have submitted to your fate.

You drop to your knees and bow your head, drowning out the shouting and whimpering of the other two.

There is a loud metallic clanking sound above you, and the other two fall silent as all four of you look up to the ceiling. The rails holding your chains to the ceiling suddenly swing down and the free end of your chains fall to the floor. Then the center of the chamber splits open to reveal a tight spiral staircase with a pole sticking up through the center. It only takes you a moment to realize what you are supposed to do. Ignoring the other three, you stand up and walk over to the staircase, then put the ring on the free end of your chain over the pole and start walking down the staircase.

After a few circles around the spiral, you see that the bruised and beaten **** has followed your lead, as has the terrified ****. You hear the angry **** still shouting and raging above, and then the trapdoor slides shut again and his shouts become muffled. You wonder briefly what will happen to him now, but he is not your concern.

When you reach the bottom of the staircase, you see the overseer who brought you into the complex waiting for you. He half-grins at you as he reaches up and does something that disconnects your collar from the chain.

"Follow me, ****," he says.

"Yes sir," you reply.

He leads you down another corridor and then into a small metal chamber.

"Hands inside the circles," he orders as he jerks his head toward the opposite wall, where two red circles have been painted. You hurry to the wall and lean against it, your hands in the circles. "Under no circumstances are you to move your hands outside those circles until I tell you to, ****."

"Yes sir."

You try to watch out of the corner of your eye to see what he is doing, but you don't have to wait long to find out. Your only warning for what is about to happen is the sound of a whip cracking. And then...

"AAAGH!" you scream as braided leather lashes hard against your back. Your whole body is shaking in both fear and pain, but you stay as focused as you possibly can on keeping your hands inside those painted circles.

The whip falls again, and again, and again....

You count 40 lashes before finally it stops. You are panting hard, sweating, shaking, and tears are streaming from your eyes.

"Remove your hands from the circles and come back to the door, ****," your overseer orders.

"Yes sir," you say, and comply.

He reattaches your chain to a new rail and sends you down another corridor.

For the next several hours at least--you lose track of the time--you are sent through various chambers, sometimes with other slaves present, sometimes not.

First, your head is shaved bald. Then you have to navigate through some kind of a maze, which feels almost impossible. You are not sure, when you reach the end, whether you have actually made it through. All you know is that you end up back in the room with the red circles, whipped 50 times this time.

You go through more corridors. A **** closely inspects every inch of your body, takes blood samples, writing detailed notes on everything. Then you have to stand at a computer and answer several hundred questions on many topics. Some of them are easy and some of them are impossible for you to answer.

You end up in the whipping room again, this time getting 60 lashes.

You are not certain at all how you are performing in this evaluation.

More corridors. Some kind of psychological evaluation in which you are strapped down and **** to watch footage of slaves being punished in all kinds of different ways.

70 lashes in the whipping room.

Another psychological evaluation of some type, in which you are shown several hundred sets of three objects and you must choose one in each set.

80 lashes in the whipping room. It is getting harder and harder to keep your hands inside the circles for the duration, and even between whippings your back, ass and legs throb with pain and feel like they have been shredded.

Multiple physical tests. For several hours, you are required to perform multiple tasks of strength, speed and endurance, and they get harder and more demanding as you get more and more exhausted, but you continue to try to do everything to the best of your ability.

90 lashes in the whipping room.

Then you are led into a small, completely dark chamber, and the door is sealed.

Once you have been alone inside it for some time, you try kneeling and find that your chain allows it, then you try sitting and lying down, and again your chain allows it. Then, without realizing it, you fall asleep.

When you awake, you are strapped to an operating table and a **** wearing surgical garb is taking off his gloves, and then proceeding to strip naked, except for his collar.

"You have been tagged," he informs you. "You are now the officially registered property of our Lord and our Master. And because you are tagged, know that your location is tracked at all times."

You realize he must have implanted some kind of microscopic chip in you, but given the fact that you were **** and you now have welts and bruises and contusions over most of your body, you have no idea where the tag could even be.

You are led once more into the whipping room.

This time it is somehow easier to keep your hands inside the circles as you get 100 lashes.

The overseer's expression is inscrutable as he leads you into a new chamber, where he detaches the chain from your collar once more.

"Your results are in, ****," he says. "Are you ready to learn how you did?"

"Yes sir," you say.

Did you pass, or did you fail?