7

"Morning, cub." Monkrion came back into the room after a ten hour sleep, during which Orion was not
allowed to move. He had been struck several times during the night for trying to sleep, or lean over to rest. The
boy turned his fearful eyes up to the simian.

"Can I go?" the Reptillian asked. "I'm sick of watching the little bastard."

"Yeah, go ahead, your shift's over." After letting the Reptillian out, Monkrion returned, sitting in a
comfortable chair from the guard station and looking mildly at the boy. "Sleep well?"

Sniffing, Orion shook his head. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and his face hurt. "I-I'm
h-hungry," he stammered, watching the simian and hoping he wouldn't hit him for saying it.

Monkrion did not strike the cub, only considered. "You have done nothing to deserve food, slave. Maybe if you do well today you can have supper tonight." The child had not spoken out against him, or yelled, so he reached forward and let the boy off the stool. Orion immediately stumbled away from him, backing against the wall. "Come here, brat," Monkrion commanded.

Orion fearfully shook his head.

Without changing his expression, Monkrion lunged forward and backhanded the cub. Orion screeched
and staggered, almost falling down. Returning to his chair, Monkrion looked coldly at him and repeated his
command. "Come here."

Trembling, Orion took a few reluctant steps forward, approaching the simian with trepidation, shying
away even as he walked forward.

"Good boy." Monkrion patted his head once, making the boy flinch, as he was expecting to be hit. He
relaxed the smallest bit. He led the boy again to the chair, and asked, "Do you want to be strapped in?" Orion
shook his head. Monkrion also shook his head. "If you want something, boy, you'd best remember what you're
to call me." He waited expectantly.

Orion tried to look through his confused, frightened mind, and couldn't think. He couldn't remember
what he was supposed to call him. "I-I-I don't r-remember..."

The simian shrugged and strapped the boy in. "Tough luck. Maybe when you want something bad
enough you'll remember. Now."

For the next hour Monkrion went through, over and over, everything a slave should know. He told him
how he is to act, what he is to call Blackmoor, what he is to call any other taskmaster. He said over and over that Orion was only a worthless slave, that he is nothing here. he said this more than anything, drumming it
over and over into the boy's mind. He told him what the consequences were for disobedience once he was done
with his training, what the punishment was for attacking a taskmaster, or trying to escape.

Through this whole thing, Orion only sat on the chair, his neck and back already protesting after the
long, long night of sitting on a hard stool. He was tensed up, his whole body.

"Well?" Monkrion demanded, staring hard at the boy.

"Wh-what?" Orion said. he had no idea what the Mutant wanted of him.

Monkrion debated whether to slap the child, and did not this time. He took the boy's arm in one hand
and his mane in the other. he forced the little slave to look up. "When a taskmaster tells you something, you
answer with 'yes, sir'. You got that, you little shitbag?"

"I-I-I'm not-" Orion began, but the simian gripped both his arms and slammed him against the back of
the chair, making him cry out.

"Answer me, slave! You do not contradict a taskmaster. Answer up!" He slammed Orion twice more
before he stammered out the response he wanted. He released the boy from the bruising grip. "You're a slow
learner, cub. I've known dogs that learn faster than you."

Orion said nothing, only shook as he sat in the chair. He'd never known anything like this before, he
never thought adults were mean to little kids. Mean like the cheetah had been that one day he had gotten into a
fight with the other cubs, but not mean like this.

Monkrion had repeated everything several times, and now he quizzed the boy on it. "What are you to
call me?" he demanded. He had the riding crop i his hand again and paced, slapping the crop into his other hand as he talked.

Orion did not answer. He didn't want to cooperate. He didn't want them to think they'd won! he did
not want to bend to their command. It hurt his pride.

But without a word the Mutant struck him hard across his chest, making him cough. "Answer me, brat."

After he'd caught his breath, he debated not answering again, but looked at the crop, and looked at the
floor. "Sir," he mumbled, biting his lip.

"That's better. What are you to call the other taskmasters?"

Beginning to cry again, Orion answered the same.

"Good boy. Now, when you are given an order, what do you do?"

Biting his lip, the cub said, "Say 'yes sir' and do it." he had no intentions of doing it, but now was not
the time to express that.

"And when asked a question?"

"A-answer the same way..." Orion glanced back up, to see what the mutant was doing. He felt unsafe
turning his gaze away too long.

"Who is Blackmoor to you, boy?"

Orion bit his lip harder, not wanting to answer, even after he was struck, he did not want to answer the
simian. his pride had been hurt many times in his young life. he did not want it hurt further.

Monkrion glared at the cub. "I said answer me." He hit the boy across the midsection, making him cry
out. "Answer me now!"

Panting, Orion pressed his lips tightly together in a gesture of helpless anger. "He-he's a...a...he's a big,
mean butt!" he yelled. Had his hands been free, he would have pounded them on the arms of the chair in his
frustration.

Monkrion said not a word. He only paused for a moment before laying into the cub with the crop,
striking him hard enough to leave angry red welts on his chest and midsection. Orion was screaming words that
were not understandable, but the simian ignored them. When he thought the cub had been sufficiently
punished, he stopped, leaving his subject sobbing hard. After giving him a moment, he quietly told him to be
quiet. When he did not, he struck the boy across the face. With the crop.

Orion screamed, and kept crying, but he was still trying to stop. He didn't want to be hit again, he was
terrified of being hit again.

"Quiet," Monkrion said again in a low, emotionless tone. He was pleased to see the cub managed to
quiet himself sooner than the last time, although he did not show it. He put away the crop, but kept it close by.
"Now," he said. "Let's begin again. What is Blackmoor to you?"

Not able to answer for a minute, Orion was silent. But fear made him try and force himself. Speaking
from what the monkey had just drilled into his mind all morning, he stammered, "M-m-my m-ma-has-ster..."
His voice shook, but the simian understood him.

"That's better. You'd save yourself from a lot of pain if you would have said that in the first place. The
first thing you will learn is that badmouthing your betters will get you beaten."

Over the next few days, life went mostly like this for the young cub. If he did reasonably well for his age
and for how long he had been trained, he was allowed to sleep and eat that night. If he did badly, he was allowed to do neither. The first few days, Monkrion reminded him every time how he is to answer up, and smacked him if he did not. After three days, he was struck if he did not do it on his own.

The fifth day, Monkrion finally got the collar from the blacksmith in the place, fitted for the cub's
small neck. He dragged the cub from his cell, clipped it around his neck, and put the padlock in. The sleepy
child touched the collar and made a face, immediately not liking the way it felt. "I-I don't like..." he began to
whine, but stopped himself, looking fearfully up at the simian to see if he would be hit.

The Mutant looked contemptuously at him. "You remembered, and so I will let it go this time. But the
next, you will be disciplined."

Orion did not say anything, but reluctantly followed his jailer from the cell. He had refused to leave the
cell this whole time, and the last time he'd been dunked for it. He hated that. he hated the feeling of not
being able to breathe, of the inside of his chest burning when he tried to breathe, feeling dizzy when he was let
up, and his throat hurting.

The child shuddered as he climbed timidly into the chair he had come to hate. Slowly Monkrion was
becoming more strict in his discipline, and had punished him when he resisted enough to have to be strapped in.

Monkrion started telling the child to do simple things like kneeling, and sitting quietly, and not looking
him in the eye; that was for Blackmoor. Slaves were not allowed to look their master in the eye unless he told
them to. He made the boy do that as well, looking at him when he commanded him to.

Commendation for obedience, punishment for disobedience.

All the while, through his actions and his words, and how he treated the young slave, he drummed into
his head over and over that he was worthless. That Orion was only a possession to be done with what his master wished. He was nothing, he was less than dirt; he had no rights, no freedom, no will of his own.

And all through this, Orion tried very hard to keep in mind what his father had told him that night at
supper. He tried to remember his own worth no matter what the Mtuant said, but monkrion was an expert at
what he did. He knew how to make his victims believe they were worthless. And it was working.

Chapter 8

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