A DEFINING MOMENT. (Tag Gay Male Authoritarian)
This is a work of fiction.
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Part One.
My name is Michael Smith and I was born and grew up in the South East in the small city of Sunninghill. My father was a wealthy businessman and from as far back as I can remember, we lived in a large house, probably mansion would describe it better, on what was a large parcel of land on the outskirts of the town. The land could not in any way be categorized as farm or rural or agricultural, as my mother had it maintained as a rather oversized garden. If you can imagine it, it was like a normal house and garden in the suburbs only a lot bigger. We definitely were not country folk! I have one brother Bradley, or Brad as he is known, and he is two years older than me. Naturally, to properly maintain a lifestyle such as we enjoyed, we always had quite a few servants, mostly at my mother's behest, and fortunately, my father was able to afford them. Apart from being a successful businessman, I learnt when I was older that he had inherited from my grandfather, not only the property we lived in, but the business he now owned and substantial other investments. I am glad to say we are "well off" as a family and Brad and I can look forward to a comfortable lifestyle in the future. Even as a teenager I realized what a start in life it is to be born into a wealthy family and I was not shy to take advantage of the situation in my everyday dealings with other kids and with adults too. One garners a natural respect, which rubs off from one's parents, from people who are less fortunate. I know that many rich people appear to lead perfectly "normal" lives and make a point of not flaunting their wealth but I don't really understand the rationale of that. I know my attitude isn't exactly praiseworthy but it doesn't really concern me too much and, hey!, who said that life is fair anyway?
I was about ten years of age when the institution of slavery was re-introduced. Of course people in the South welcomed the move with open arms and much was said about how it re-enforced the validity of the stand that our forebears had taken against the Yankees. I mean it is a difficult argument to refute. My father, who at first was a bit uncomfortable about it, discussed the whole question with his associates and others in his social circle and, after consulting with the Church establishment, who felt that slavery might well be condoned since it had existed in biblical times, it was decided that in our community to embrace the system would be perfectly acceptable. Furthermore, the local electorate was firmly behind the right-wing politicians in the nation's capital who were espousing the adoption of slavery as a means of alleviating the economic woes that they had brought about. My father wasn't slow to realize the benefits that might accrue if we as a family were to dispense with the multitude of servants we employed and to replace them with slave labor. It would involve an upfront capital investment but clearly that investment would be hugely beneficial over time. So it was that twelve pretty well-paid employees of the Smith household were let go, often to join the ranks of the unemployed on welfare, and replaced initially by seven slaves.
The transition did not take place overnight and my father and many of his country club friends attended seminars and courses given by entrepreneurs who saw an easy opening, on such matters as slave management, discipline, control and punishment. These God-fearing upright members of the community returned home as avid slavers. My parents had always considered servants as "extended" members of the family and they were provided with comfortable quarters attached to and above the garages at the side of the house. Now, in order to tie in with the new theories on what position on the social scale slaves were to be slotted in (in effect completely off the social scale), and how a harsh regimen of treatment was essential from the outset to ensure success of the new dispensation, my father built behind the garages and well out of sight new slave quarters constructed of unpainted cinder blocks. The building really was an affront to the eye and was in effect a barred prison with the slaves housed in individual cells. The ablution facilities were primitive (cold shower heads and squat slave latrines, as recommended by the new slave management authorities) and the need for off-duty pursuits and facilities was ignored. I looked the building over when the builders left and innocently asked my father when they would return to complete the job. My father and his best friend, who was present, laughed heartily at my naivety and I received a pat on the head.
The seven slaves my father purchased consisted of a male in his late twenties, Jack as my father renamed him, who had been enslaved for debt and who became my father's personal slave as well as head slave, two other young males who worked in the grounds, and four females, one of whom became my mother's personal slave, and the other three general household workers. Even I was embarrassed at the cheap and comical uniforms my parents purchased for the slaves (not true! I really thought they were hilarious) and I stared fascinated at the rations they were given to eat. I was eleven years of age at that time and at a difficult stage but it was surprising how easily I accepted the new situation. It really is true that one's attitude to life is moulded by one's upbringing. The idea of being able to order older persons around at will fitted in perfectly with the air of superiority I had started to develop; I see no wrong in that, it's in the natural order of things, but I'm surprised that I had developed to that stage at such an early age. My brother Brad on the other hand always seemed to be awkward in the presence of the slaves and avoided having any dealings with them directly. He really couldn't stand that "slave smell" as he referred to it. I must say he was always a bit weird! If my father witnessed his 11 year old son ordering the slaves around or reprimanding them (they must have been humiliated but dared not show it), he did nothing to stop it. I think that what I am trying to say here is that the whole idea of a Master owning slaves and being in absolute control of their lives and destinies was inculcated in me at an early age and within a few years seemed totally normal to me.
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Brad and I entered our teens and slowly started to develop friendships of our own. An age difference of two years at that time is quite a gulf. I had always had the same little clique of friends; we were school buddies and moved in the same social circle. We were rich kids and were happy with the status that conferred on us, with the wherewithal to have whatever we wanted, and saw no need to look elsewhere for social contacts. I had two especially close buddies named Chuck Winters and Lawrence Stevens. I was the oldest and Lawrence was the youngest. Brad on the other hand became friendly with a kid his own age who he had met at school named Adam Thomas. Although Adam attended our school, which catered mainly to the kids of well-to-do parents, he came from a lower middle-class family and I was a bit embarrassed that Brad should mix with a boy not of the same social status as us. The first time Brad invited him to spend the weekend at our house, he really looked out of place. Even the clothes he wore appeared shabby. Like rich kids do, I made a couple of barbed remarks at his expense and I felt humiliated when Brad put me down in front of Chuck and Lawrence. I had never liked Adam and that episode made me resent him and his presence even more. I was fourteen years of age and likes and dislikes, even hatreds, are easily formed.
Brad had recently turned sixteen and, in celebration of that milestone (the age of adulthood as my father called it), he offered to acquire a personal slave for Brad. As I think I have mentioned, Brad had absolutely no patience with slaves and found their attentions to be tiresome. He therefore prevailed upon our father to purchase for him an expensive sports car instead. I must confess I immediately fell in love with his red three-series BMW cabriolet with black trim! It was class personified. I wondered to myself however whether in two years time, if given the same opportunity, I would be able to turn down the chance of having my own slave. The thought of being attended to hand and foot by a personal slave was not something I would easily turn down. And besides I was pretty sure I could talk my father into buying me a car anyway.
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The next two years were quite eventful. Chuck, Lawrence and I went through the latter stages of puberty and had our first sexual experiences. None of the three of us was exceptionally "cute" (I probably was the best-looking even if I say so myself) but we had the advantage of coming from rich families and girls, being the deep-down gold-diggers that they are, very rarely turned away our attentions. Fifteen year old girls are not always prepared to put out and so we concentrated on chicks a year or two older than ourselves. Considering our ages, we were surprisingly successful in getting laid pretty regularly. Lawrence was the youngest and as scrawny as shit, but he managed to charm an eighteen year old broad, a waitress, and she took his cherry. None of us was able at that stage to "entertain" at home and thus we made a connection at a local motel (I usually slipped the guy at the desk a $20 bill) and partied there. Chuck's older brother bought beer and scored pot and pills for us and we were never short of female company. I also managed to hire some porn from a sleazebag at a local adult video store and the scene was set to indulge ourselves.
Brad and Adam meanwhile had started dating (not each other, hehe) and Brad had come out of his shell (to a degree). On occasion my parents would be absent over a weekend and Brad would throw a party. There would normally be about ten couples including Brad and Adam, and although Brad clearly wasn't keen on the idea, I made sure that Chuck, Lawrence and I were invited. On occasion we would be successful in roping in a couple of chicks and my bedroom became a hive of activity. Quite a lot of beer was consumed at these parties, and even some drugtaking took place, but all in all level-headed Brad kept a tight rein on things.
At a certain moment there was a confluence of events. Brad had just turned eighteen, Adam was three months short of his eighteenth birthday, and I was due to turn sixteen in two month's time. These seem like incidental facts but they were to play a huge role in how matters unfolded. On a certain Saturday night, with our parents out of town, Brad threw a party and when the event wound down he and Adam took their dates home in Adam's car (if you could call it that). After they had dropped the girls off, they were returning to our house and it started to rain. Apparently the car skidded and Adam was unable to avoid colliding with a car coming in the opposite direction. So as not to involve Brad who after all was an innocent passenger, Adam told Brad to leave the scene which he did. The upshot of it all was that the driver of the other car, who was a young Bible-puncher returning from a Church function, was slightly hurt. The police, however, arrested Adam and he was tested for alcohol consumption and failed the test. In addition the police found some marijuana in Adam's car. They threw the book at him and he was released on bail into his parents' custody until the trial took place.
My father forbade Brad to speak or meet with Adam but they did attend the trial. Apparently Adam pleaded guilty to the charges but his lawyer put up a good defense in mitigation, saying that Adam had never been in trouble before, came from a good Christian home, attended a good school, had a promising future and was likely to become a good law-abiding citizen. He asked for a suspended sentence with community service. There is no doubt that had it been Brad or me on trial, a few words in a few sympathetic ears would have resulted in such a sentence being passed down but unfortunately for Adam his family had no such influence. Cest la vie! The judge passed down a sentence of lifetime servitude and, according to Brad, Adam was stripped bare-ass naked in the court, collared and immediately handed over to the slave control people.
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The sentence stunned the community and Brad particularly seemed very down at the turn of events. I tried to console him and told him that Adam had really had it coming and that the sentence should be seen in that light. Personally I felt that Brad should have known that a friendship with a boy of no real social standing would have a sticky end.
However, other thoughts in relation to what had happened were really consuming my mind. I had read enough about how newly-enslaved offenders were dealt with to know that Adam would shortly come up for auction at Slaves R Us, a local slave dealership. Fortuitously my sixteenth birthday was coming up in two weeks and I saw a perfect opportunity to avenge myself on Adam for slights and humiliations I had suffered at Brad's hands in his defense. I had already decided that I wanted a slave of my own on my sixteenth birthday and the thought that that slave could now be Adam was intoxicating in the extreme. I felt a certain rush of power, something I had never experienced before, and to my surprise found myself totally erect. In the coming days I continually became erect whenever I entertained in my mind the possibility that Adam might become my personal slave and I carefully planned the strategy I would adopt with my father.
To be continued........