Wizards’ Slave
Book One of Valencio’s Story
by Veronice Ceccarelli
Published by Veronice Ceccarelli at Smashwords
Copyright, Veronice Ceccarelli, 2011.
Adult content.
• 31 chapters, 221,000 words.
• In paperback form, this would be around 600 pages.
Note that this ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not to re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book, and did not purchase it, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Summary:
‘Valencio’s Story’ is about a pretty boy who falls prey to predators – not ordinary predators. We would call them wizards. They call themselves ‘the Freign.’ In the eyes of the Kobi family, ordinary humans are the dirt-people, regarded as vastly inferior to themselves, and available to be used for whatever purpose they choose, including their sexual gratification. Valencio joins nineteen women and girls as one of the Kobi Family’s sex slaves.
He does not accept his fate easily, and yet every time he fights, even when he manages to kill, he only becomes more special to them –like a favored pet, or as the Enclosure Overseer says once, ‘like a wild beast we’ve chosen to cage.’
This is not a simple story. There is heartbreak and despair. There is also courage, friendship, and loyalty. It was written as drama, but I have noted a sub-category as ‘erotica.’ It does not start out as such, but by the time Valencio is in his late teens, there are some very erotic passages.
******
Chapter 1.
The two men thought they were alone, and started to play. It hadn’t been planned, but when the six-year-old boy looked curiously at the half-open door of the bedroom, and then peeped in, Geoffrey was naked and leaning across the bed. Pedro caressed his bare shoulders, and then delicately traced the outline of his body to the neat buttocks, caressing, manipulating, parting. He turned to the side a moment, finding a small tube of cream, and the watching boy opened his mouth in surprise as he saw an adult man’s erect penis for the first time in his life.
They were turned away from him, but Valencio opened the door a little more, and a mirrored image caught his eye. The men neither heard nor saw the boy as he watched the mirror, seeing a cream applied, and Pedro gently place the tip of his penis against the bottom of his friend. Valencio’s mouth opened further as the penis disappeared into the body of Geoffrey, and Pedro groaned with pleasure. Geoffrey gasped, whether of pain or not, Valencio couldn’t tell. But when Pedro began a rhythmical, but quite gentle thrusting, Geoffrey’s moans didn’t sound like pain.
The boy was fascinated, and watched until finally Pedro withdrew, the penis now surprisingly smaller. Geoffrey stood and dabbed at the bed with a towel, but the laughing comment was in Spanish and was not understood by Valencio, who only knew his native tongue, Italian, plus a little English.
But he understood when Pedro asked Geoffrey, “Alright?” and Geoffrey said, “Alright!”
It was only then that the watching boy was seen. Pedro looked at Geoffrey in surprise.
“Caprice’s boy,” said Geoffrey. “I didn’t know he was around.”
Pedro said coaxingly, “Come here, boy.”
Valencio took a slow step into the room. Pedro was not frightening, just sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel over his lap. When he was close enough, Pedro reached out and drew him closer, studying him. The child was beautiful - very dark eyes with long sooty eyelashes, and a sweet curve of cheek. He had a mop of pitch black hair, untidy, and there was a streak of dirt across his face which made Pedro feel very tender. He stroked the boy, cupping his chin in his hand, and then spoke very softly and tenderly. “You’re made for it, aren’t you, boy? But you’re far too little yet.”
Geoffrey said, “Let him go. Caprice will be furious if she knows he saw us.”
Pedro turned him around and gently slapped him on the bottom. “Off you go.”
Valencio went. He was made for it? But he wrinkled his nose and thought of his own penis. Even if one day it grew to be as big as that man’s, he didn’t think he’d want to put it in the place where poo came out. He didn’t even have a name for it. All he knew was that his nanny was extremely annoyed with him if the area was not immaculately clean.
He emerged into the sunshine and took a deep breath, before running to find his friends. They were planning to raid the vineyard, stuffing themselves on stolen grapes that didn’t taste very good, but carried with them the delicious feeling that they were the forbidden wine grapes.
******
Valencio was ten. His mother sent for him, and the nanny quickly tidied him and pushed him into the room where Caprice sat with her fourth husband. She snapped her fingers. “Come, Valencio.”
Valencio went to her, not knowing what might arouse her swift anger, so that he wound up with a slapped cheek, or might arouse her sudden tenderness, so that his face was covered in kisses. His nanny, whom he called Aunty Lexie, was much more comfortable to be with. He was not afraid of his mother, even feeling some contempt for her sometimes. She was so easily swayed, so easily talked into things.
Now she called him close, kissed him on the cheek, and announced that if there was anything he wanted especially to pack, he should do so now. They were off to Hollywood tomorrow, where she was to be in a film. Caprice was extremely beautiful, but she had never been more than one of the lesser actors in a film, though she’d been the ‘star’ of several advertisements. Valencio considered how best to get his way. There were the school sports tomorrow, and he was convinced he could win the running races. He was good at jumping, as well. Maybe he should give her a chance to give him his way without noise first. He politely asked if they could go the day after, so he could win the running races at school tomorrow. But Caprice had turned to her husband, who was sipping a wine and staring out the window where the sun shone and shade trees rustled in the gentle breeze.
His mother didn’t seem to hear, so he repeated the request, still polite. She said no. He stared at her, and she eyed him apprehensively and now tried to reason with him. “It’s work, and you know that being a celebrity carries with it responsibilities. I have fans....”
Valencio stamped his foot, opened his mouth and gave an ear-splitting shriek. It didn’t take long, and Pauli said, “For God’s sake, either leave the boy behind, or get a ticket for the following day.”
Caprice had her hands over her ears, and just nodded. Valencio squeezed out a few tears for effect, so that she softened and caressed his face, then pushed him out the door. “The day after tomorrow, then.”
Pauli shook his head. The boy was beautiful, but very spoilt.
The following day, however, Valencio was just another boy in school sports uniform, dancing around on his toes, supposedly ‘warming up,’ but rather trying to impress the watching girls. He was athletic, but not especially long-legged, winning the several heats without too much trouble, but only barely beating his best friend into first place in the finals. He’d overestimated his jumping ability, and Giustino had not the slightest trouble beating him in that.
At school, Valencio was popular, easy to get on with, and with sufficient intelligence that he had no trouble with his work, even though so regularly taken out of school by his mother. It was not the first time that he’d gone to Hollywood with her, though the first time with Pauli, who was also an actor. At ten, Valencio spoke English fluently, could speak French well, and had a fair smattering of Spanish. Geoffrey and Pedro were around sometimes and would speak Spanish with him, though he never saw a repeat of that astonishing scene in the bedroom. He’d never even told Giustino about that. He thought about it sometimes, and would inspect his penis, wondering whether it would ever attain the dimensions of Pedro’s, though he was sure it had to be nicer to put it into a woman than a man.
Valencio was Valencio Durano. He carried the surname of his father, who had been a very well known actor in his time, though retired now. But when a producer noticed the beautiful boy hanging around the set one day, he decided to use that surname when he used the boy as an actor. The name was an asset in addition to his looks.
Valencio loved the acting. It was as if it came naturally and he couldn’t wait for a bigger role in the next movie. Now, sometimes people pointed. “It’s Valencio Durano,” they’d say, and he’d pretend not to notice.
His second film was made for children, and his co-star was fourteen. He was still only eleven, but he looked at Sylvie with speculation. The shape of her body was interesting to him, and he had a feeling that it might become a lot more interesting as he grew older. His latest stepfather was a responsible man, and he was well guarded, never molested, and never given a chance to experiment with the drugs that were a part of the culture in which he lived. Dean Blockman was firm with his wife, too, and for the present, Caprice was enjoying being treated as a child.
******
Faheem Kobi-Wynn was a wizard of the powerful Kobi family of Morocco. Pervez was el-Kobi, of the same family but of the servant class. The Kobi children were Sorted into the two classes before the age of thirteen, and then educated separately, knowing the absolute necessity of obedience to their superiors. Few chose to leave. Even for the servants, there was a very great deal of wealth to share, and there was the pride of belonging to the most powerful and feared family of wizards in all of Arabia and Asia.
Pervez el-Kobi was a Kobi Fighter, as nearly all the men were until they were injured or grew too old. Rarely, one would not attain the required standard, and might be steered into administration, or into a position as enclosure guard, which required a far lesser standard of fighting ability, only having to deal with that inferior species, the dirt-people, sometimes called Medj. His current job was as a ‘Spotter’ for Enclosure 1, where there were always up to twenty girls and young women kept as slaves for the pleasure of the men.
The slaves were always obedient at that time, knowing they had no choice but to line up for inspection when a man came to make his choice. Even little Emma lined up, but no-one ever chose the child, just turned seven, who always stared at the ground, holding Hilde’s hand, and never spoke. Some didn’t line up, instead wearing a colored wristband to denote that they were a Favorite of a Kobi-Wynn, and for exclusive use.
Faheem had a special request, and as he was Kobi-Wynn, and as one of the older prisoners had recently been moved over into Enclosure 2, it could be granted. It took a bit over a week, but when Pervez came back to him, he was smiling.
“You’ll like this one,” he said, and he started to play a film. “He’s a year or so older now, of course, and I checked, and he’s turned twelve, so permitted.”
Since Emma’s twin sister had died the first night of use, the Elder, Riza Kobi-Wynn, usually called, very respectfully, ‘Grandmother Riza,’ had given orders that no dirt-person under the age of twelve should be taken. It was not clear whether she’d been angry at the cruelty to small children or annoyed at the death toll afterwards, as the wizards fought amongst themselves, some objecting to the cruelty, others defending their right to use the dirt-people as they chose.
The film was seen on a large screen, the Kobis perfectly happy to use the technology of the dirt-people when it suited them. A black-haired waif turned big eyes to the camera, looking pathetic in rags. But then he shot a mischievous grin at a companion, and he was next seen bolting after stealing a wallet.
“If you want a boy,” said Pervez, “This has to be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.” Pervez was an expert. He quite often chose children, and the ones he chose only grew more beautiful with the years. Faheem watched silently.
Pervez asked, “Would you like me to get you another drink?”
Faheem scarcely heard in his absorption, but then gave a belated nod. The girl co-star was a beautiful child as well, but Faheem wanted to try a boy. He watched the whole of the film, his eyes following the boy whenever he appeared. Pervez would bring him the boy, untouched until he could have him. Meantime, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, but wandered to the Enclosure and asked that there be a line-up.
******
At the weekly meeting of Enclosure guards, Nusa’pei, the overseer, mentioned that Pervez would shortly be bringing in a boy. Only the permanent enclosure guards attended the meeting, ones demoted from Fighter, mostly. For most of the enclosure guards, it was only one of the jobs they were rostered to, usually for a stint of about six weeks before being shifted. It was an undemanding job, except when Enclosure 3 was used, when there could occasionally be a little excitement.
The ones in Enclosures 1 and 2 didn’t know there was a third enclosure. Enclosure 3 was only filled when needed, the prisoners used as subjects to teach Advanced ‘Combat and Control.’ In nearly all cultures, it would have been called ‘Defense,’ but the Kobis were not hypocrites. The spells learned were for fighting, for killing, for maiming, for punishing and for controlling. There was little that was mere ‘defense.’ The inmates of Enclosure 3 would all be dead by the time the young wizards were awarded the broad green band that denoted ‘Kobi Fighter,’ worn with pride on their right shoulder, next to the yellow flash that denoted el-Kobi - servant class.
Kobi-Wynn wore no insignia of qualification, whether of Fighter or of other specialty. They were Kobi-Wynn, and known to be Kobi-Wynn. It was enough.
Kofi-Zee was a big man, nearly fifty, and had only become a regular enclosure guard quite recently. He asked, “Are you going to castrate this one, Nusa’pei?”
Nusa’pei replied, “Not nearly so early as Quang did Damir. No-one wanted him after he became fat. And it may not be necessary, of course. It was never necessary with Clarence, though in hindsight, I think Giuliano should have been done.”
Abensur was just seventeen and keen to learn. Respectfully, he asked, “Why should it be necessary?”
“If he plays up too much. I haven’t seen it myself since we have so few boys, but Quang said that they settle down a lot when castrated. Also, of course, he’ll be done if he makes himself a nuisance with the women.”
Clarence was the only other male prisoner at the time, but in Enclosure 2 for many years. Those in Enclosure 2 were no longer used for sex, instead used for students to practice spells on, though not the ones that resulted in their deaths or serious hurt.
Abensur said, “I’ve never seen the Castration spell.”
“It’s simple. Get Haru to show you next time he uses Enclosure 3, if you want. Just the testicles vanish, the scrotum becomes tight and smooth, and then a second spell reduces the penis to an inch long, just for cosmetic purposes. A eunuch should look like a eunuch. Painless. Damir didn’t even know what had happened, Quang said, even though Ahjmed held his genitals in his hand at the time. Wanted to feel the change.”
Abensur tried not to show his disgust, though Kofi-Zee did. Nusa’pei’s eyes turned to him, but no Kobi-Wynn were watching and he let it pass. It was not for servants to judge the conduct of their superiors, and perceived insolence was punished with a whipping.
“Damir,” said Amani, “I reckon as soon as he saw what was happening, he tried to make it go faster. He used to stuff himself with food, quite deliberately, I think, so he’d get fat as quickly as possible and no-one would ask for him.”
“Quang never said anything about that. Just said it’s a side effect of castration and he made a mistake doing it when the boy was only eleven.”
“I was sorry for the boy. He always hated it, eunuch or not. I didn’t tell Quang.”
Nusa’pei spoke deliberately. “You should have told the overseer. If you conceal something like that from me, I will have you punished.”
Amani shrugged, “Unlikely to happen. I’m getting too old, and I’m to be demoted to gardener.”
Nusa’pei held his eyes, feeling that his authority was being questioned.
Abensur distracted him with a question, to the relief of Amani, who knew that he’d overstepped his bounds, though he hadn’t shown his trepidation. “If you decide to do the new one, at what age would you do it?”
Nusa’pei said, “Fifteen or sixteen, I think, though I don’t actually have much experience to go on. And I think it probably will be necessary with this boy - unless he likes it, of course. I’ve seen the film Pervez has. He looks full of spirit.”
“We should never give him a hint of what’s in store, I assume,” said Abensur.
Nusa’pei said definitely, “Not a hint.”
******
Chapter 2:
Valencio was just finished his third movie and was bored. He pestered his mother, wanting to go home to Italy. Caprice told him not to be so silly. Valencio turned to his stepfather and said, “Please, may I go home? Aunty Lexie can come with me, and she’ll look after me. I want to go to high school with Giustino and the others.”
Dean said, “Caprice? He’s your boy, but it seems to me it’s a good idea.”
“No, absolutely not. I like having him here.”
Valencio looked assessingly at his stepfather, and later, in private, he asked him again, pressingly, but politely. Dean said, “Sorry, but your mother’s in charge of you, and what she says, goes.”
Valencio waited for the following day, just in case Dean persuaded his mother to let him go.
He made sure that Dean was out before he asked again. She still said no. Valencio insisted and when she still refused, drew his breath and screamed. Caprice put her hands over her ears, and stubbornly shook her head.
Valencio threw himself to the floor, screaming still and drumming his legs on the floor, privately amused at his own performance. What a way for a twelve-year-old to behave! Aunty Lexie, drawn by the screams, watched from the doorway.
“Alright, alright!” cried Caprice.
Valencio was triumphant. It still worked. He sobbed a little, and then kissed his mother several times saying how much he loved her and how he knew he’d miss her, but he had to go, and said thank you, thank you, thank you. Caprice asked Lexie to get her an aspirin.
Pervez was annoyed when he realized that the boy he wanted, had gone, just when he had everything ready to take him. It took a few days to discover where to find him, but they waited for him soon after that. It was a Tuesday, a school day. Pervez waited next to a small closed van on the road from the school to the house where he lived. Yitzhak waited in a doorway, ready to step up behind the boy and bundle him into the van. Najam waited back a bit, just in case the boy escaped and ran back.
They tensed, ready. Valencio and two other boys were together, laughing, enjoying each other’s company and taking no notice of their surroundings. But suddenly Valencio looked straight at Pervez, and turned and fled, dodging across the road, away from Najam, as the other boys stared in confusion.
Najam and Yitzhak gave chase, thoroughly annoyed. How did he know? Pervez quickly checked the boys who still stood, gaping, just in case, but it was definitely their target who ran, already almost out of sight.
Valencio was hounded into open ground, but dodged back into a small alley way and crouched out of sight, then silently backtracking, hiding. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew with all his soul that he was in deadly danger. Giustino pounded after them, trying to keep up with those who chased his friend. His other friend, meantime, panted out to the policeman that someone was after Valencio.
The officer said calmly, “Don’t panic. Just take a deep breath and tell me again, calmly.”
The boy almost sobbed in frustration at his slowness, but finally the policeman seemed to take him seriously.
Valencio thought he’d lost his pursuers, but where was there to go but home? He slipped silently down a quiet alleyway, a back route towards the large house where Aunty Lexie could organize protection for him. The man appeared out of nowhere, only five feet in front of him. He turned again and ran, suddenly knowing he had to dodge. He threw himself to the side, rolled, was up on his feet again, running. The stun spell missed.
He was much faster than Yitzhak, and was again thinking he was losing him, but suddenly the man was in front of him again. Not wondering how he’d done it, Valencio hurled himself to the side, avoiding another spell, and pelted off again in the direction he’d just come from.
When the man was suddenly in front of him again, he gave a cry of sheer frustration and hurled himself straight at him, knocking him over and inadvertently sending the wand flying. Yitzhak could have grabbed him then. It was only a boy after all, but instead scrabbled for his wand, aiming again just as Valencio turned the corner, and was then knocked over again by Giustino, still trying to save his friend.
Valencio ducked into a derelict warehouse through a hole he knew, and now went in the opposite direction from his home. What did they want, but more important, how could he escape them? The police station? A police car slowly cruised by. Scaglia, who’d given him a lecture once for wandering around town after dark. The ones who chased were nowhere in sight. Scaglia jumped as the passenger side door was dragged open and a sweating, wide-eyed boy screamed at him to drive fast, away.
Scaglia stopped the car and turned to him, smiling. “You’re safe now. Good thinking, coming to me. I’ll take you home.”
Valencio was looking all around him, still terrified, suddenly demanding, “Somewhere else! Take me somewhere else they won’t know!”
Scaglia said soothingly, “I’ll take you home. There’s burglar alarms, and there’s Joe and Ricardo to look after you.”
Scaglia still wasn’t convinced there had even been anyone chasing the boy. He started to put the car into gear again, and Valencio, quite slowly, turned and stared into the face of Pervez, standing close. He shivered, but Pervez just stood there.
Valencio glanced back at Scaglia, who pressed the accelerator and smoothly drove him home, even escorting him into the house, since he was obviously still terrified.
“Aunt Lexie?” Valencio said, his voice quavering when Scaglia delivered him, and Aunt Lexie put out her arms.
He sobbed for a long time in the arms of Aunt Lexie, real sobs as she understood. How many years was it she’d looked after him and seen him calculatingly playing his mother for what he wanted? She’d never seen him like this, genuinely distraught, genuinely terrified.
They came for him in the night. He started awake, knowing they were in the house. Not stopping to dress and wearing only sleeping shorts, he slipped out the window, moving very carefully along a ledge. His room was on the third floor, but he knew a route down. This time he wasn’t asking the help of any adult. He was going to Rome where he’d be a beggar and a thief like in the film. Even if he starved. Starving would be better.
He came to the tricky bit, jumping from a small and insecure platform to the fig tree. A man moved just beneath him and he was distracted at a crucial moment and fell to the ground, breaking his leg beneath him. There was a thud, but he made not the slightest outcry, though he bit his lip and screwed up his face. What was a hurt leg next to what they wanted? Still, he didn’t know what they wanted.
Pervez heard the thud and spotted the boy, lying unmoving, silent, though his leg was bent under him. The boy had best remain silent, and the first spell Pervez used was a silencing spell.
Valencio tried screaming when he saw Pervez there. He was good at screaming, but his voice was gone. Pervez spoke soothingly. Everything was alright. He wasn’t going to be hurt, just that he had a new life now. Valencio struck at him, pulling himself to a sitting position, his terror blunting the pain of a broken leg.
Pervez paralyzed him and then felt gently along the leg. It was basic first aid. The spell healed the leg.
“We’re wizards,” he explained gently to the boy. “Wizards can use magic, and it is magic that cured your leg. Don’t worry. You’re with us now and we’ll look after you.” Would he walk with them? he wondered, and decided, not this one. Valencio’s paralyzed body was moved by magic and he was put into the panel van even before Pervez called the others back to him with the device he carried in his pocket.
He caressed his face as Valencio stared, hating. “You put up a good fight,” he said gently. “But no-one gets away when we decide we want them.” Speaking slowly, trying to calm the terrified boy, he said, “I’m going to put a different spell on you. This one’s called the Snail Spell. It means you can move again, but only very slowly. Then I’ll take off the other spells.”
He did as he said, and Valencio tested how well he could move. But then he opened his mouth and screamed, continuing to scream as loud as he could. Maybe they wouldn’t want him if they thought him inclined to hysteria. His mother had told him once that no-one would ever want a boy who screamed. He was moving his head, twisting his features, screaming.
Najam looked at Pervez, doubtful. Valencio was correct. They seldom took a prisoner they thought inclined to hysteria. Pervez raised his voice to Najam. “I promised him to Faheem. He won’t be satisfied with a replacement.”
“Whisper spell?” Najam suggested.
Pervez waved a wand, and the scream died to a whisper, but it went on and on. Valencio hadn’t missed Najam’s doubtful look, though the words had been in Arabic and he didn’t know what Pervez had said.
Valencio continued to make just as much trouble as he could, ignoring all of Pervez’ gentle reassurances. He would not be hurt. He would be looked after. It was just that he had a new life now. The whispering scream went on and on until the nerves of the men were jangled. Even whispering, Valencio’s throat was becoming very sore, but he didn’t stop until Pervez made a strong spell of sleep and then everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Najam caressed the cheek of the boy, sweaty with pain and exertion, and said, “I’ve never seen anyone put up such a fight.” He waved his wand and the boy was clean. Pervez covered him with a blanket.
When next Valencio woke, he was in an airplane and halfway to Morocco. His eyes stayed half closed as he tried to see where his captors were. Surreptitiously, he moved a limb, to see whether he could now move normally. It seemed he could, so presumably the spell had worn off. Magic was supposed to be fiction, but two of Valencio’s films had magic in them and Valencio accepted that it existed without worrying about it further.
There seemed to be a doorway in the side of the airplane, with some very large lettering that said ‘Do not open’ in three languages. There was no-one close. Valencio dived towards the door, trying to twist the lever that should have opened it. It was a hopeless attempt, a door of an airplane in flight is not designed to be opened easily.
It didn’t stop Yitzhak, Najam and Pervez being thoroughly alarmed. Yitzhak dragged the twisting, struggling boy away, holding him by the arm and swearing as Valencio managed to strike him. Yitzhak got a better grip, holding both of Valencio’s arms behind his back. The boy opened his mouth to scream. They knew about this, and he was hit again with the Whisper spell.
Pervez decided that a lesson needed to be taught. He spoke very clearly, very calmly. Valencio had to learn to be obedient. His dangerous stunt could not be repeated. He hadn’t wanted to punish when he knew that Valencio was frightened, but it seemed it was necessary. Pervez aimed his wand, Valencio tried to throw himself away from the strong man who held him, but suddenly the whispering scream was in earnest, writhing on the floor where Yitzhak dropped him.
Pervez didn’t hold the Spell of Pain very long, lowering his wand. Valencio lay inert a moment before struggling from the floor, to sit against the side of the seat next to him. Pervez was speaking in a kind voice. “You see. You cannot fight. We can punish very severely, very easily and without any permanent damage.”
Valencio stared fearfully at the man, and whispered, “Please don’t do it again. I’ll be very good.” Pervez was satisfied, and put away his wand.
Valencio struggled weakly to his feet, head bowed. Pervez was speaking again, using that soothing, kind voice. “It was only a demonstration, you have to learn .....”
Valencio launched himself, scratching at his eyes, succeeding in tearing fingernails across an eyelid. Yitzhak raised his wand and Valencio threw himself to the side. For a brief moment, it was Pervez who writhed, screaming, on the floor of the airplane, to the horror of Yitzhak.
Valencio stood and smiled, knowing he’d be punished, knowing it was worthwhile. As soon as Pervez recovered himself, he nodded at Yitzhak. “Two minutes this time.”
Two minutes of the agony was a long time. Five minutes would leave an adult feeling weak and ill for the rest of the day. Much over ten minutes would kill.
Pervez didn’t take his eyes off Valencio this time, but Valencio only sat against the seat again afterwards, his eyes shut, pale and sweating.
He spoke in the end, “What do you want me for?”
“You are wanted for sex.”
Valencio opened his eyes, and looked at him, surprised. “I can’t do sex yet. I’m not big enough.”
Yitzhak chuckled, but quietened as Pervez gave him a look of rebuke.
“Why do you think you’re not big enough?” Pervez asked.
Valencio still frowned in confusion, but answered. “You have to have a big penis and I’m only twelve.” He concluded in a definite tone, “You’d best just let me go.”
Pervez said humorously, “Tip you out of the airplane?”
“You could give me a parachute.”
“We’re flying over an ocean.”
Valencio didn’t risk any further punishment, but pulled himself up and looked out of the window. He put on a piteous expression. “Please give me a parachute and let me go. There might be a ship.”
Pervez decisively shook his head. Valencio was trapped. All three of the wizards were watching him and two had their wands drawn. He looked back at Pervez, whose face bore a bleeding scratch. And for a moment, he’d been screaming in pain, just like they’d done to him, Valencio. He wondered whether there was any point in screaming, but his voice was still a whisper and his throat was sore. It wouldn’t make any difference, just annoy them. Instead he asked for something to eat and to drink.
Pervez glanced at Najam, who organized it. They gave him some clean clothing as well, a pair of brief shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, just the same sort of ordinary clothing he was accustomed to, even in the correct size. There was no underwear and no shoes. But they said that underwear was an odd Western convention and totally unnecessary.
Valencio asked, “Shoes and socks?” When he had a chance to run, it would be better if he had shoes and socks.
Najam shook his head. “Not necessary.”
Pervez didn’t tell him that it was the Kobi runway they were landing on and not a public airport, wanting to see whether he might still run. The boy was looking so subdued as he carefully descended the steps, his legs even seemed to be shaking a little. The Spell of Pain, of course, was very severe for a child. Pervez lowered his wand.
Valencio tried not to be seen moving his eyes. He was at an airport, and surely there would be people who could help, or at least cover his escape. There was a small gathering of women. Women always petted him. Without warning, he bolted towards the women, dropping and rolling under a spell, but hit immediately by a second when he rose to his feet. His legs went from under him in a semi-paralysis.
He pulled himself up as much as he could, looked appealingly at the oldest woman and said, “Please, help me!”
The woman looked away. If any of them had realized that the plane was bringing in a captive for the enclosure, they would not have been there. That the men kept dirt-people for their use was never spoken of. The Kobi girl children knew nothing of them, and the women were not supposed to, though most found out at some stage. One of the younger women stared at the beautiful, desperate boy, but another took her arm and they retreated.
“Punish him again?” Yitzhak asked.
“Just hold him and take him to the small enclosure.”
In a room furnished as a small dining room, Nusa’pei introduced himself, quite gently, and said, “I am the overseer of the enclosures. I will be looking after you.”
Pervez said a few sentences in what Valencio suspected was Arabic, a supposition supported by the appearance of his captors, and by the fact that Nusa’pei wore robes, though the three who’d taken him, had been in ordinary clothing. Nusa’pei nodded and told him to report back as soon as he was refreshed. Pervez looked tired and still bore a scratch over his face, though by now the blood was dry.
In a matter-of-fact way, Nusa’pei took some leather straps from a cupboard and asked Valencio to put out his arm. Valencio looked at the straps, opened his mouth and started that aggravating whispering scream, but he didn’t throw himself on the floor and drum his feet. He needed to be ready for a chance to fight or run.
Pervez ignored the noise, just put him under a Snail Spell, took his right wrist and put a leather cuff around it, holding his wand to it so that it became a full circle, the join disappearing. The sinister leather cuff had three metal loops, equal distances apart. Valencio stared, taking in their significance. How could he fight? He looked wide-eyed at Nusa’pei and his dark eyes filled with tears. It worked to some extent, in that Nusa’pei spoke gently to him, trying to reassure, as the other wrist was cuffed and then his ankles.
“They’ll be on permanently. If at any stage, you find them too tight, or a skin irritation starts beneath them, you should come to me.” He raised his wand. Valencio could still fall and did, trying to dodge the spell, though he could move his arms and body only so slowly, only his head movements almost normal.
Nusa’pei said calmly, “You cannot stop us doing exactly what we want to do with you. You cannot fight and you cannot escape. You are now No. 143.” His wand went to Valencio’s right upper arm and the large digits appeared, facing the front. Large on his shirt pocket, on the back of his shirt, and also on his shorts. Valencio was a numbered slave, he felt a sudden total hopelessness and sought to conceal it with an impassive expression while he screamed inside.
They brought him a meal, and watched as he picked at it.
Nusa’pei said finally, “You will be left alone tonight. There’s some food in the kitchenette if you’re hungry in the night. Within this small area, you have freedom. There are toys and there are books. But the fences carry magic and so do the external walls. They will cause you pain if you try and touch them too much or climb the fences. Be sensible, and you’ll be treated with kindness.”
He watched the boy assessingly. Valencio showed no expression, just had another drink of his milk.
As soon as they were gone, Valencio explored the small prison very carefully, the dining room, a large sitting room with lots of toys, the garden and the fence. Again and again, he tried to climb the fence, proving to himself that Nusa’pei’s words were true. He tried to force his way through the door to where a corridor ran, but again, he only wound up in pain. There was a sudden surge of hope when he pushed against a door that didn’t make him want to withdraw, or cause him pain. But it was only the door to the bedroom.
Valencio cried himself to sleep.
******
Nusa’pei listened to Pervez’ story. That the boy had bolted even before there had been anything to make him afraid. That several times he’d ducked or dodged as a spell had come from behind, even though he should not have even known about spells. Pervez finally suggested, “Do you think he might have some slight telepathic talent? Undeveloped, of course.”
Nusa’pei frowned, considering, but then said, “He’s of the dirt-people. How can he have telepathy?” The Kobis knew about telepathy. One with the talent would be born to them now and then, old Yiko and his son, Narzu-Han, for instance, and four or five of the women as well.
Pervez asked, “When is he to be used?”
“Tomorrow night. I suggested to Faheem that he give him a week in Enclosure 1 first, a time to learn he can’t fight, but Faheem refused. He doesn’t want him to know what’s to happen to him until the event.”
“I’m afraid I did tell him he was to be used for sex.” He smiled, “He said he wasn’t big enough and couldn’t do it, so I should just give him a parachute and toss him into the ocean. He said a ship might come.”
“He’ll soon enough learn that it’s not really so bad.” He grinned. “Would he really have jumped out if you gave him a parachute?”
“This boy! He just might have done!”
They laughed together. The boy may have been a lot more troublesome than usual, but he’d soon learn.
In the early hours of the morning, Valencio’s eyes flew open and he knew exactly what they wanted to do to him. When he thought of Pedro and Geoffrey, he’d always somehow put himself in the place of Pedro, the idea of being in Geoffrey’s position too hard to comprehend. Valencio was violently sick, all over the bed. Afterwards he left the stinking room, showered and dressed again and prowled the small enclosure. He tried a few times to climb the tallest bush in order to leap to the top of the fence, but failing, though at least not hurting himself badly. There were only a few bushes. Finally, he curled up close to the furthest fence, and slept again, exhausted.
******
At home, the headlines blazed. ‘Valencio Durano Kidnapped.’ Dean Blockman hoped for a ransom demand. Valencio may have been only his stepson, but he’d become fond of the boy. Valencio’s picture was put on milk cartons, distributed throughout America, Have you seen this missing person? At thousands of homes, people looked at the picture, and said, sometimes sadly, sometimes chuckling, that they knew what that child had been taken for!
Caprice was distraught. The tragic grieving mother. After the first few days, it suddenly dawned on her husband that she was enjoying the role. He shook his head, but endured. She was beautiful, if rather childish. He was rich. It was a common bargain.
******
Nusa’pei’s orders were that, for the moment, there should always be three on guard whenever one was with the boy. The boy was very quick, and even though he’d been punished for attacking a wizard, it hadn’t stopped him trying again just minutes after. Pervez hadn’t concealed from the overseer that Valencio had enjoyed a brief triumph when he himself had been hit with the Spell of Pain meant for the boy. They always tried to ensure the prisoners never had any sort of a triumph. It must not happen again.
When breakfast was brought for the boy and his room swiftly cleaned by a wave of a wand, Valencio noted the drawn wands and made sure to look as defeated and docile as he mostly felt.
Kofi-Zee reported that he ate his breakfast, that he’d been found asleep outside, and that he’d been very ill in the night. Nusa’pei nodded. It was not uncommon the first night, even before first use.
Breakfast was cleared away and Valencio observed the ease with which magic was used to vanish leftover food and stack instantly clean dishes. He wondered if he could do magic, but concealed the way his gaze rested on the wand held half raised by Kofi-Zee, watching him closely. A phrase slipped into his mind, Pauli? One of Pauli’s movies? Information is a survivors’ tool.
Nusa’pei entered and greeted the boy. Information is a survivors’ tool, and Valencio listened closely as Nusa’pei explained a little about his new life. He was to be a Favorite of Faheem Kobi-Wynn, who was a very powerful wizard, and would probably one day become an Elder of the Family, and known as Elder Faheem. When a girl or boy was a Favorite, they would wear a wristband in the colors of that man.
Valencio asked with a trace of sarcasm, “So will I have to call him Master Sir or something like the old-time slaves did?”
“You must always be respectful. Always. Insolence will be punished. However, particular titles are not required from dirt-people slaves.”
“I am not dirt-people, and I will not be a slave.”
“You have no choice, Valencio,” said Nusa’pei. “You are a slave.”
Valencio looked mutinous, but Nuse’pei merely instructed him to hold out his right wrist. Valencio obeyed, but then, with startling speed, tried to grab Nusa’pei’s wand. Nusa’pei reacted quickly and Valencio was slowed to snail pace again, his dark eyes glaring hate at the overseer.
Nusa’pei studied him, and then said, “Amani, bring me a spare wand.”
Amani nodded and left the enclosure. Nusa’pei did what he’d started to do, he tapped the right wrist cuff with his wand and it turned black. “Black is the color for the Favorite of Faheem,” he said. “Make the most of your status. As long as you are a Favorite, there will be no others unless the wizard permits.”
“Others? Not just this Faheem?”
Nusa’pei nodded. “Others, eventually, when Faheem becomes tired of you.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t scream at him, if I were you.”
“How long am I to be here? When will you release me?”
Nusa’pei said in a matter-of-fact way, “You will never be released.”
Valencio’s expression didn’t change. “So when I get old enough that no-one wants me, will you kill me?”
The latest cull had only been two years before, but Nusa’pei said calmly, “Of course not. You will be kept in comfort and sometimes used for other purposes.”
Valencio wondered if he was lying. He thought he could tell, sometimes.
Nusa’pei tried to reassure. “You are a desirable boy. Even after Faheem tires of you, you’ll be very popular. Pervez, for instance, told me he wanted to be informed as soon as you’re available.”
“Pervez?”
“What’s the matter, Valencio?”
Valencio turned tearful eyes to him, sincerely tearful eyes, and whispered, “It seems worse when it’s someone I know.”
Nusa’pei was brisk. “Don’t be silly. It makes no difference.”
Valencio stared at the floor. It made no difference, Nusa’pei said. But it did make a difference. Valencio shriveled up inside with the shame of being in the position of Geoffrey.
Nusa’pei decided not to talk any further about other men, and not to mention that he, himself, had every intention of being first after Faheem, if at all possible. It would be the first time ever he’d had a boy, but this boy was beautiful and spirited. Another Kobi-Wynn might claim him, of course, and a Kobi-Wynn could always over-rule a mere servant, even if the servant was Enclosure Overseer.
Amani returned, and Nusa’pei accepted the spare wand. He hadn’t wanted to risk the boy breaking his own. A wizard’s wand becomes very special to him, and a wand, once broken, can never be repaired. He demonstrated that the spare wand worked, conjuring a bowl on the table at which they sat. And then, to Valencio’s bewilderment, he handed the wand to Valencio and demonstrated a simple spell.
“Try it,” he invited. “Say the incantation, as I did, point the wand, and think carefully about what you want. Make the bowl move to the right.”
The other guards had their wands raised, ready. Just occasionally a wizard was born to the dirt-people, though only when he was sired by a wizard.
He would never have another chance. Valencio pointed the wand at the bowl as instructed, and then turned it swiftly toward Nusa’pei, thinking as hard as you could, Hurt, you bastard! Hurt!
But Valencio had no magic, and in any case, the Spell of Pain was difficult to do. Nusa’pei just watched him, smiling. Valencio had had enough. Still holding the wand, he rose from the table and stalked away, only turning briefly, and asking, “When?”
“Tonight, after dinner,” answered the overseer, and wondered if it was worth offering a calming potion to the boy. It would have been better for Faheem to use him during the day, but the men always preferred evenings, even when there was no particular reason for it. If he’d used the boy now, in the morning, he could have been established in Enclosure 1 before night. As it was, he’d spend another night alone.
Kofi-Zee asked, “Stay and watch him?”
“If he does have magic, he won’t show it in front of us. And it’s better to find out as soon as possible. But five should enter the enclosure next time, just in case.”
“What will you do if he does have magic?”
Nusa’pei said calmly, “Most unlikely.” What would he do? He had no idea.
Valencio tried very hard, until lunchtime, to make something move. Then he tried to make things vanish or appear. He pointed the wand at the fence and visualized a hole appearing in it. But nothing worked.
When he saw the doors opening the next time, he put the wand under his shirt, tucking it under the waistband of his shorts. He could not do magic. If they had thought it possible he could, he would never have been given the wand. But it was a stick of about ten inches long, and coming to a point, even if a blunt one. Valencio fully planned to stick it in someone’s eye, given the slightest chance.
Kofi-Zee asked him where the wand was, as it was to be given back.
Valencio mumbled, looking at the ground. “Broke it. Threw it away.”
Kofi-Zee came closer, lifting his chin, looking at him. Valencio looked at him with big eyes swimming in tears. “I tried and I tried and I couldn’t do magic, so I broke it and threw it away.”
Kofi-Zee believed him, and only asked where. He pointed, and Rafu and Amani searched where he indicated, but gave up. “It must be under the leaves somewhere,” Rafu said.
The boy just sat, sniffling now and then. Five wizards, all with wands they could use to work magic. What chance did a boy of twelve have?
It was difficult to find a weapon for his other hand. All the toys were soft and there was not even cutlery to use. No knives, no scissors, not even a good sized stone, except a few in the garden, for effect, far too heavy to lift. A biscuit tin? Too awkward. Boiling water? But there was no way to boil water, and in any case, he might have to wait hours at the door before he had a chance to attack and run. He prowled, looking. It took his mind off what was to happen that evening. A glass he could break? Did they think of everything? The drinking utensils were all plastic. The mirror in his bedroom. There was nothing hard to break it with, so he tried to do it with his fist, thumping it again and again, his mind filled with the thought of long, sharp pieces of glass. It was a long time before he gave up. Maybe it was magically toughened.
He looked at a short piece of cord, and then passed it by. Even if he had the strength to strangle someone, there would be more than one. He finally spent the next hour working a heavy stick off one of the bushes and trimming off leaves but leaving a couple of sharp twigs at the end. He would shove it in someone’s face, maybe blind them, he thought.
For over an hour, he waited just near where the double doors opened inwards. They were quick and wary. Valencio had no chance to attack and was swiftly disarmed. Nusa’pei was there that time. A prisoner was always punished with pain if he tried to attack a wizard, but when Rafu asked, Nusa’pei shook his head. “Sit at the table, Valencio,” he said. “We have a meal for you.”
Valencio sat, but didn’t touch the meal, though he glanced at the plastic fork and spoon he was given to eat with. His insides were boiling over, he thought. Nusa’pei handed him a glass, and said, “This is a calming potion. It will help a lot.”
It was a glass. Valencio threw the potion in his face, struck the glass hard upon the table, so that it broke, and launched himself at Nusa’pei before being brought down again by Kofi-Zee. The edge of the glass was sharp, and had been far too close to the overseer’s face.
“Two minutes pain,” said Nusa’pei, and Valencio was writhing and screaming on the floor. Afterwards, he was sick again.
Nusa’pei just sat, regarding him. After a while, Valencio opened his eyes, beginning to recover. He gave orders, and this time, a wand was raised, Valencio felt suddenly calm and happy, and when Nusa’pei instructed him to drink the new glass of potion, he obeyed. Nusa’pei lowered his wand, freeing him from the spell. Valencio was sick again, half deliberately.
Nusa’pei sighed and said, “Make sure he’s clean and bathed, and treat any bruises.”
Nusa’pei went to Faheem, and explained to him that the boy was not sufficiently docile for the purpose without additional restraint. He could be paralyzed or put under the Snail Spell. At no time could he be left alone with him, unless the boy was restrained in some fashion.
Faheem said, surprised, “He’s just a child!”
“He’s older and bigger than in the film you’ve been watching, and he’s quick, clever, and agile.” He paused. “I suggest you use the Ven Restrainer.”
“I’ve never had a boy before, never even seen the Ven Restrainer.”
“How about we prepare one of the working bedrooms, and I’ll demonstrate its use,” suggested Nusa’pei.
Faheem agreed, to Nusa’pei’s relief. Kobi-Wynn were sometimes tricky to deal with, far too quick to take offence. If they did take offence, there’d either be an ordered whipping or a challenge to duel, with the servant usually punished in a more creative fashion, sometimes fatally. At least, the servant was never punished if he defeated his opponent in a fair duel.
Nusa’pei pointed out a particular bedroom, the end bedroom, “Bigger than the others, and I’ll reserve it for you.” The ‘working’ bedrooms each had a bathroom and toilet adjoining, but otherwise contained just a chair, a hanger for clothing, a dressing table with a large mirror, and a jar of lubricating solution in a drawer in case of need. Some of the bedrooms had double beds but most of the beds were three-quarter size, with straps that could be clipped on to wrist and ankle cuffs to restrain an unwilling girl.
This one had a three-quarter bed, but a lot more free floor space than usual. The Ven Restrainer was not small. Nusa’pei went to a storeroom and returned with the purpose-built item of furniture. He had no experience himself of using a Ven, but looked frowningly at it once he’d wheeled it in and locked it to the floor with magic.
“It was probably last used for Damir,” he said finally. “The height should be right for Valencio without adjustment. See, he puts his feet on the steps, bends over and is firmly restrained, and we’ll do that for you. Restraints around waist, upper thighs, knees, as well as wrists and ankles.” He showed Faheem where the restraints would be clipped. “Then he won’t irritate you by struggling or pulling away. Legs apart, as you see from the shape, and you just stand between and take your time. It can be used for women, as well.”
Faheem stroked the soft leather top of the device. “It feels good.”
Nusa’pei noticed that he was already looking aroused. He’d best make the most of the receptive mood. “See this quite deep groove in the centre. It’s to allow for a penis becoming erect without discomfort.” He said casually, “If a boy is not hurt, it can be enjoyable for him. And if it’s enjoyable, he’ll make a lot less trouble and be happier. And, of course, that’s good for the man, as well.”
“I thought it would automatically hurt him.”
“Not if you do it right, I’m told. It would be better if he was more relaxed, and he’s still terrified and hating us all. But see in this drawer.” He opened a drawer in the body of the Ven Restrainer. “There’s a narrow probe you start with, and you just take your time, and work it in and out. Then the next size up until he’s relaxed and accepting, and only then do you take him as you want, but always gentle. You can do a lot of damage if you use too much force. Lots of lubricant, which is good for you, too, because it’s easier. And after all, a penis can be hurt too, if too much force is used.”
Faheem remarked, “You hardly ever ask the healers to look after any injuries, do you?”
“Women don’t understand that a man may become a little excited sometimes, and then injuries can happen.”
El-Kobi could be in trouble if they caused damage to a prisoner, though temporary hurt was ignored. Kobi-Wynn, however, were seldom reprimanded, even Ahjmed, though sometimes the little girls he liked, didn’t survive. But no more little girls. They had to be twelve years old as a minimum.
Three guards waited with Valencio. It would be soon and he couldn’t stop them. He was remembering that scene. Afterward, Pedro had pulled out and asked ‘Alright?’ Geoffrey had said it was alright. He hadn’t appeared to be hurt, but he was a man and maybe used to it.
Amani was watching the boy, just sitting staring at the floor. He thought it would be better if he hadn’t been told what was to happen. All this waiting was so hard on him. He was showered and in fresh clothes.
Valencio jumped violently when he heard the door open. “Filuah Kay,” said Nusa’pei, and Valencio was hit with the spell that made him very feeble even before he had a chance to fight or run. He was already weakened with a day of tension and little to eat, and from the punishment as well. Kofi-Zee and Amani took an arm each and helped him walk.
For a while, Faheem just caressed his face as Valencio looked at the floor. “Such long eyelashes,” Faheem commented, going to touch, but Valencio pulled his head away and looked back at him for the first time, with a boiling anger and hatred.
Faheem’s breath came uneven. It was the boy of the movie, and he was going to have him.
“Undress him?” asked Nusa’pei.
Faheem nodded, unwilling to trust his voice, which might not be steady. They held him again, one on each side, as he was stood, now naked, in front of Faheem.
Faheem stroked. “He’s perfect. Not a mark, not a blemish.” There had been a lot of bruising only an hour before, and several scratches from the bushes he’d tried to climb, but lotions had taken care of the minor injuries. The only one left was the number on his arm, now angry and swollen from the way Valencio had scrubbed and scratched it. But that would be left as it was. When there were no new scratches, it was an indication that the new prisoner had accepted his status.