Reasons Why Geoff Nagel Is Offensive, According To Chris:

--He thinks slaves should be treated like members of the family.
--He lets sheer sloppiness go uncorrected. (It appears that Chris has two categories, "sloppiness" and "perfection.")
--He recruits slaves who are clearly unsuited for the lifestyle and are traumatized by it. 
--He sells to owners who want a girlfriend who can't say "no," not a slave. 
--He punishes slaves when he wants to punish them instead of maintaining a consistent system of rewards and punishments.
--His slaves are poorly trained and unsuitable for anything but a handful of tasks. (The tasks go unnamed.)
--His slaves are not graceful.
--His slaves think that you should respect their preferences.
--His slaves require orders instead of being able to figure out what you want on their own. 
--He speaks in California psychobabble. 
--He thinks he's as good as Anderson. 

There are things he's curious about, of course, like "Who's Anderson" or "what tasks." Obviously, he doesn't ask. 

He eats. He doesn't have to remember to keep his hand down, because he isn't talking, but he makes a mental note of it all the same. 

After lunch, Chris returns to his writing and Emil takes up Greta's position as notetaker. 

"I'll need you to take off your clothes for the examination," Greta says.

"Yes, Doctor." He takes his clothes off. 

Greta is efficient and businesslike. 

She listens to his heart and lungs, takes hair and saliva and blood samples, asks him to pee in a cup, looks into his mouth and ears, takes his vital signs. She asks him about vaccinations, allergies, whether he uses sunscreen, whether he needs glasses, whether he's ever been hospitalized, how often he exercises and what he does, his family medical history. She asks him to do a series of stretches, to stand on one foot, to do as many jumping jacks as he can, to jump as high as possible. 

He gets a flu shot every year. No allergies as far as he's aware. Uses sunscreen when it's bright out or there's snow but not otherwise. Doesn't need glasses. He was hospitalized sixteen months ago after his knee surgery. He was internationally adopted and doesn't know his family history. He exercises daily; he swims and lifts weights. He'd done other things prior to the surgery. He can't do all the stretches; he can stand on one foot but shouldn't stand on his right foot for long. 

Greta kneels between his legs and inspects his genitalia with gloved fingers. She is as professional and cool about this as about every other part of the physical. "Healthy, no signs of trauma," she reports. She measures length and girth with a tape measure. "Any history of sexual dysfunction? Erectile dysfunction, anorgasmia, premature ejaculation...?"

He has no idea why that would be relevant but it's not like he's going to ask. No, but he considers the question before answering. 

"Why were you hesitating?"

He could answer that question in a couple of ways but the answer he lands on first is "I wasn't sure." 

"Can you explain?"

"Sex is generally uninteresting but not in a way I'd describe as medical dysfunction." 

She makes a "hm" sound and asks him about how often he eats vegetables. 

Oh good that topic's over. Less often than he used to — he cooked for himself less right after the surgery — and less often than he'd like but often. 

When they leave, Chris puts his notebook aside and says, "Hands on the wall."

He puts his hands on the wall. 

Chris leaves and returns with a well-used strap. 

He hits him across the back, hard, ten times. "For glancing at me when I told you to act like I wasn't there." Ten strikes. "For pausing before answering questions." Ten strikes. "For fidgeting." Ten strikes. "For failing to answer questions." Ten strikes. 

He continues, listing off every minor flaw Marlo had today. 

He doesn't protest that there were no questions that he failed to answer. He can take a lot of hits before he lets a sound slip through his teeth but he doesn't manage to be completely silent. 

For the last ten, he says, "I won't tell you what you did wrong to earn these. Call it an exercise."

He was so wrong that — 

He nods. "Thank you, Chris." 

"Turn around."

He turns around. 

Chris kisses his forehead. "Good boy. You did well today. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Chris." 

He's glowing. 

(There is maybe physical evidence of this, if Chris happens to look down.) 

He glances between Marlo's legs and says, "that's a normal reaction." Is Marlo ready to be touched? No, not yet. "You may get yourself off tonight."