The Good Slave by Sellers Franklin

Author:Sellers, Franklin [Sellers, Franklin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Franklin Sellers
Published: 2015-08-29T07:00:00+00:00

The entrance was a simple, unimpressive door door that opened to a sizable room with three cinderblock walls painted stark white. The fourth wall, if it could be called such, was made of black metal bars and had an imposing metal door in the center. These vertical bars connected to a horizontal one connected to the walls just below the point where they began to curve in their transition to the high vaulted ceiling overhead. The gap between the horizontal bar the top of the ceiling was filled with a nasty, thick mass of coiled barbed wire. Directly above the door, welded to the crossbar, was a large golden crucifix. Beyond this penal rood screen stretched a long hallway that seemed to go on forever. Phoebus could see guards making their way from one place to another, but he didn’t see any prisoners.

To the left four expressionless guards stood in front of a long wooden table pushed up against the wall. Their legs were spread wide. The two inner guards held their clasped hands in front of their groins, and the two outer ones held long rifles.

To the right was a reception window where a sour-looking middle-aged man greeted them by ordering Master Josef to show his ID. The little slave had been ordered to lift his shirt so one of the hand-clasping guards could scan the bar code tattooed high on his side near his armpit. A large monitor above the reception window displayed Phoebus’ most recent annual photo, name, age, height, weight, blood type, and address, as well as confirming that he was the property of Josef Messinjure as of such-and-such a date.

Both master and slave were ordered to place the contents of their pockets into a small metal box (Phoebus only had a pack of gum), which Mr. Sourpuss locked and put onto a shelf after handing Mast Josef a ticket. They they had to lift their arms so they could be patted down by the guards not holding rifles. They found nothing, of course. Then, as the burlier guard pulled on a pair of rubber gloves he turned toward Phoebus and commanded, “STRIP, SLAVE!”

Phoebus was mortified. He looked frantically around the room, but not a hint of sympathy from any of the strangers. Master Josef just stared straight ahead as if he were the only one in the room. Didn’t even make eye contact when his slave looked at him imploringly.

“NOW!” the guard barked. “And hurry up!”

Phoebus began to disrobe as fast as he could, humiliated at the thought of being naked in front of anyone, let alone strangers. He hoped they’d think he was shivering from the cold air.

“Now, turn around,” the guard said when the little slave was completely nude, “bend over and grab your ankles.”

Phoebus obediently bent over and grabbed his bare ankles. He began to feel dizzy as the blood rushed to his head though he didn’t dare look up.

“Wider!” the guard yelled and Phoebus had to let go of his ankles and rest his hands on the icy floor to spread his legs further.

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