The Training (Part III)

The Executioner led them to a facility behind the grove that surrounded the north part of the house, where there was a lightweight construction, without walls and with a wooden and tile roof, with large tables and wooden benches. They received their first meal: oats, milk, water, fruit, and bread. They sat opposite each other, two on each side of the table, under the strict gaze of the Executioner, who already inspired fear in the four. No one spoke, everyone only looked at their plate. A native, dressed in his pants and shirt made of cloth and a red sash, equally silent, diligent, and discreet as all the other servants.

Here, no one speaks, only I do. Everyone only looks at their plate, their gaze fixed on it.

Everyone obeys.

- Hands on the table!

- Hands behind your back, all stand up!, Follow me!

Everyone complied, in complete silence. It seemed that they had been treated this way their whole lives and that they already knew, through heavy habit, how they should behave, but they had only been living this experience for a couple of hours.

They were led to another closed, large shed, converted into a large and well-equipped gym and training center. The Trainer was waiting for them there. In front of him, in line, separated by a meter each. The Trainer observed them, carefully, and pointed out his conclusion:

- They're not bad, there's power here - to continue - but work, constancy, and discipline are needed. From today on, there will be no rest, follow all instructions and do what you're told immediately. Are we clear?

- Yes, Sir!

He went through each one of them and touched them, with no little lasciviousness, adding comments such as "excess fat", "lack of toning", "no volume", etc. When he reached Cuan, who was looking at the ground, he said:

- You need special work. You have a good body, but it's not toned. You'll have to give it your all.

- Yes, Sir! - Cuan replied.

Cuan had had fantasies about being dominated since he was fifteen. He clearly remembered how he got excited watching his schoolmates, especially a larger, more brutal, and abusive one, enjoying being humiliated and beaten by him. That had marked him and he had sought it out more intensely in the following years. He liked to surrender and lose control; but those fantasies didn't resemble what he was living now.

His feet hurt from walking barefoot on the corn, stones, and pebbles on the paths. Everything was uncomfortable: the collar around his neck, the cuffs and anklets, the loincloth - small and tight -, the treatment, the oppression, the total control, the rigor of the orders, the dehumanizing rules, everything.

He had real panic, fear had taken over him completely. It was that fear that led him to obey blindly. He didn't question anything externally, although his mind was processing the situation vertiginously, with a frenzy and chaos that overwhelmed h...