Class Act

As an infantryman he didn't know much. And on the second session he'd told them all he knew. And they knew it. But he was just so bloody good. He took the whip with style. He knew how to respond to the pain, to stifle a moan, to sway and square his stance. To drop his head when things were getting bad. To raise his eyes at his captors and pant heavily, to drop his gaze slowly from their face, down their chest, onto their groin and down onto their feet. They kept him in good condition, and brought him out for the men parties on holidays. `Let me go, please let me go` he'd whisper. But just in the right way. Did he even want to go home? Eventually a sheik bought him. For the same stuff, but those chains were made of white gold, a neckchain of lapis lazuli was added to his dogtags, and he was allowed a girl once a month. The sheik looked on as he enjoyed her. He'd then take him into his room for his monthly lashing