A Scheme Between Brothers

This story takes place in the same alternative universe as my other slave stories. It's basically our world, but with legalized "indenturement". Do not read if you are not interested in extreme stories and situations.

All characters are over eighteen and you must be over eighteen to read this story. It is fiction. Slavery is wrong. Consent matters. Never do anything like this in real life.

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A Scheme Between Brothers

Part One

Jason

My older brother Jeremy and I were always super close. He was 4 years older than me, but always let me hang out with him and his friends and we hung out together way more than most siblings. And there was zero rivalry.

When I was 17, our parents died. And he applied for custody of me, got a job, and moved back home.

But it wasn't working. That's when he asked me about indenturement. Not like for real. But to game the system. He had a plan. A good plan.

This guy he went to school with had started a digital currency. He said it was about to blow up. The guy had investors from Austin pouring money into it and it was going to be huge. If we got in now, we could be billionaires.

But the buy-in was 300k dollars. We were barely paying the mortgage.

Technically, as my guardian, he could indenture me without my consent. But he was my brother and he said the banks were more likely to approve a loan with me as collateral if I waived my right to challenge the indenturement and willingly signed the paperwork.

So, I did.

I mean, he was my older brother. I trusted him.

The whole process was strange. First, they took me before a judge. He had me read the indenturement paperwork, sign it, and then asked me if I was certain I wanted to give up my citizenship and become my brother's chattel property for life or until he freed me. I nodded and he made me speak up.

Then he had me repeat the terms.

I said, 'I give up my rights and citizenship as a free citizen and surrender myself to my brother as his lifetime chattel property."

He shook his head, sighed the contract, and waved me out of the room.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind.

My brother had told them to do the minimum required, but for lifetime chattel that was a lot. I was rushed into a room and my clothes stripped off of me. They sprayed me with some powder, then had me shower. After the shower, I was sat down, still naked, and my hair was given the slave cut. It wasn't bad, just the undersides and backs shaved and the rest of it left long.

Then they tattooed a barcode on my neck. That seriously fucking hurt and took forever. Afterwards, they used a weird gun to insert a gps tracker in my upper back.

Then it was the depilatory.

I'll be honest. That was the most painful thing I had felt up to that point in my life. There'd be worse, soon, but the cream hurt. They had me extend my arms up, locked my legs spread wide in place, and then covered all but the hair on my head and eyebrows with the cream. Face, legs, pits, everything.

In ten minutes, I felt like I was on fire. In thirty, my skin was blistering.

They washed it off after an hour.

Then they collared me. I was barely there at that point. My brain had shut off during the dehairing.

It took four days for me to recover. They covered my body in ointment multiple times a day to prevent scarring and ensure I healed all the way.

Then they sent me home.

My brother met me at the door and hugged me. I was relieved. Nobody had even talked to me or done anything but hurt or order me around in days. We spent that night playing videogames and eating junk food. It was like nothing changed, except I had a stupid collar around my neck.

And then the banker came over.

It was three days after I came home. I was eating popcorn when he came in with my bro and I just kind of kept doing my thing.

He was not impressed. I heard him arguing with my bro and then my brother came in.

He looked at me and said, "I need you in full slave mode, alright bro. He wants to inspect you, needs to see you know your role, and then he'll make an offer. Say yes master and all that shit and be subservient as fuck, ok?"

I was pissed a little, but nodded and got up.

The banker was no nonsense. He was in his fifties, very overweight, only an inch or so taller than me, and balding. He was going through a bag in the kitchen when I walked in.

He snapped at me to undress and stand in the corner, then continued pulling stuff out. I pulled off everything but my underwear and just stood there.

I was sort of shifting around when he came over.

He gripped me by my chin and started moving my face around while talking to my brother.

"The boy has clear skin, which is a plus. It appears the creams worked wonderfully. So many are scarred and lose value. But his skin is baby smooth and unmarred."

The man then opened my mouth with his hands and looked at my teeth.

He told my brother, "If we knew he was going to a brothel, we might want the teeth removed. But you can tell he had braces and suburban and wealthy buyers generally prefer the middle class look for their property. So, I think his teeth are fine as is. They can be whitened before an auction, if needed."

Then the man belted me across the face with his fist. Hard. Hard enough my head flew to the side and I could taste blood in my mouth from my lip.

My brother jumped up from his chair, but didn't touch the man.

I wanted to hit him back, started to, but I knew we needed the contract signed.

The man told my brother, "I told the slave to undress and he kept his underwear on. Slaves don't have modesty and slaves don't choose how they obey free men. Normally, I would whip a slave for that. I'm going to give you a means to ensure obedience before we leave and expect him to be better trained when we take possession."

Then the man gestured at my underwear. I stripped them off and stood there.

The man started touching my chest. He rubbed my shoulders, turned me around, felt my neck and back. He pinched my nipples, which made me wince.

Then he went lower. I started trembling. His hand wrapped around my dick, then pulled my foreskin down. His other hand cupped my balls. Then he let go.

He flipped me around then and pushed my shoulders down until I was bent over the kitchen table.

I tried turning my head and he said, "Stay."

Like I was a dog.

Then I heard a snap. And I felt his hand on my butt. Then pressure.

I gasped when his finger went up my butt. He pushed it deep and wiggled it around.

Then he was done.

He looked at me then and said, "Get on your knees while your master and I discuss terms."

It felt fucking weird. I knelt on our kitchen floor while my brother and the banker talked about me like I wasn't there. And some of what was said was fucking crazy. And I knew my brother had my back, but he didn't argue against any of the craziness. He didn't say he would never do it or they couldn't.

The banker said stuff like:

We might have to circumcise him before an auction...he needs to be taught the consequences of disobedience...men will expect him to be fully trained in giving pleasure... whip marks are permitted, but preference is for shock collar training...exercise him daily. He is fit, but has baby fat in his face still...we will need evidence he is being trained properly...a 5'8, 135 pound, blonde, green eyed, middle class slave that isn't lifetime is worth 250k easily to the right buyer...I might have a regular buyer come out and inspect him in a month or so...we could make good money breeding him if you are open to that during the contract period...

And it went on and on.

And then they came to an agreement. My brother signed the lien. And the banker transferred 267k to my brothers account. The remainder would be sent Monday as a prepayment for "my personal labor for the bank this fiscal year. Labor to begin in February."

While I was still kneeling, the banker used a key to take off my slave collar and then attached a thin metal one around my neck. He had my brother download an app, paired the app with the collar, gave him a password, and then hit a button.

I was still writhing in pain when my brother came back in.

Jeremy

I held my brother until he stopped crying. That asshole from the bank had left the shock collar on a five minute timer. I couldn't get it to turn off until time ran out.

This shit has gotten seriously out of hand real quick.

I tried not to think of what would happen if the currency didn't come through fast enough.

Part Two

Jeremy

So, the money had come through. I had transferred it to my boy for a 25% stake in his company.

But, nothing had happened yet. I mean, the company hadn't even soft launched and in a week Jase would have his first bank inspection. The thing is, I knew he would fucking fail. We had worked out together so he wasn't getting fat or anything, but all we did was play video games and binge stream.

And I hadn't totally been clear with him, but the bank wanted him as a personal servant. And that included being a bed slave.

I was fucked if it didn't launch soon.

My boy Thomas Menlo had had slaves growing up. I was telling him my fears and he came in to save my ass.

He said, "My family trains slaves. They'll take him in for a few days, I'll put in a word so he gets treated well, and they'll issue a paper saying he received 5 days of Menlo training. No cost. And your ass is covered. Hell, I'll have my dad handle it personally and let him know you're my friend."

It was exactly what I needed.

But Jase needed some convincing.

Jason

I was pissed. This slave thing was supposed to be a couple of weeks, a month at most, and just us hanging at home. Now, I was hairless as a kid, wearing nothing but a thong, and in a literal human cage in the back of a slave transport going to "training."

I kept telling myself being a billionaire would be worth it. I could have some big titty slave chicks riding in a transport to my mansion next month to show me how they could please master.

My dick started getting hard just thinking about it.

Then we hit a speed bump and I was kicked out of the fantasy.

We had arrived.

The back of the transport opened and two guys lifted the cage out of the back with me still in it. I was there for a few minutes while paperwork was signed.

Then the cage was opened and I crawled out.

Another slave, a real one I'd bet, was standing there.

He looked at me and said, "The master is dining with friends in twenty minutes. Follow me and prepare."

The next few minutes were eye-opening. This guy was rich. Like, hella rich. The floors were marble. There was gold everywhere. The slave quarters had twenty beds in one room and there were uniforms like something out of an old movie. The young slaves, even the males, wore these white pantyhose things and a kind of sleeveless almost black dress like thing. It had Menlo written on it, but the text was inside a crest with like a dragon or something wrapped around an emerald.

I took a shower while the slave watched. Then I put on my pantyhose and went to dinner.

There were ten people at the table. I could tell Mr. Menlo instantly. He was at the head of the table and had a necklace with the crest on around his neck and a matching ring. He was probably 65. Not super tall. I'd guess 5'10. He weighed a lot more than me, but not to the point of being super obese. Maybe 230 pounds. You could tell he played rugby or wrestled or something in college. That kind of build.

I picked up a silver tray and began passing out the dishes. When I reached Mr. Menlo and started to sit down his plate, he gripped my hand tight.

He looked at me and said, "What's your name?"

I replied, "Jason. Jason Harbrew."

He waited to speak, but his grip stayed tight on my hand.

Then he said, "When did you arrive, Jason?"

I told him, "Just now. From Harlingen."

He nodded and said, "Your brother is one of Tommy's friends."

I nodded.

Then he took his napkin out of his lap, said "Discipline", and snapped his fingers.

The next thing I knew two men were wrestling me over an odd leather bench in the dining room. They forced my mouth open and put some rubber ball in it. Then they locked the ball in using straps. I was still fighting until my arms and legs were locked into place.

I felt Mr. Menlo's hand on my back. Then he said, "Slaves in this house end every sentence with master. "

And he whipped me.

He wasn't doing it to be cruel. I could tell. He didn't act like he enjoyed it. He was teaching me a lesson.

I screamed into the ball gag. I thrashed. I cried. I couldn't breathe from the snot in my nose and tears.

And then it was over.

He gripped my hair and pulled my head up and said, "This wasn't to break you, slave. I will break you later. This was to establish the rules. Do you understand?"

I choked out, "Yes, master."

And I repeated yes master when he told me to finish serving dinner.

I laid in my bunk and cried afterwards. My back was still on fire. Some cream had been applied to prevent scarring, but it still hurt more than anything I'd ever felt. It was like raw nerves.

And then there was the taste in my mouth.

The dinner had been for buyers. Halfway through, one asked where the bathroom was. It was an African man in his fifties.

Mr. Menlo pointed to me and said, "All Menlo trained bed and comfort slaves are full service urinals as well. The boy will swallow it so there is no mess and you don't have to get up or leave dinner."

I want to say I fought again. But I didn't. I got on my knees under the table and I knelt before him. He took out his black cock and I opened my mouth as wide as possible. When I realized he wasn't going to, I aimed it for my mouth.

And then it happened. It was salty and bitter and hot like fire and I closed my eyes and just kept swallowing until it finally ended. He shook his dick off on my tongue and for the first time I tasted dick. Then he wiped his hands in my hair and pushed me away.

I didn't get to brush my teeth before being sent to bed. So I just cried.

The next day was hard work. Harder than anything I'd ever done. The Menlo family had a huge estate. I was in the garden pulling weeds at five am. Then I was collecting fruit and vegetables from their orchard and garden for meals. Then I was cleaning the west wing. I didn't serve at dinner this time, but was mucking the stables while they ate. I was given slave mush to eat afterwards.

It tasted horrible.

After dinner, I was told to shower and change.

I showered and then was shocked to find some of my old clothes on my bunk. Not just my old clothes, but my senior varsity baseball uniform. My pads were missing but the pants, shorts, jersey, socks, even my cleats were there. I put them on because I didn't have anything else.

And then another slave entered, I think his name was Kelly, and he told me the master wanted me.

Menlo

I'm not entirely sure if Tommy's friend intended for me to truly teach his slave, but in the Menlo house we don't say we have completed a job if we haven't. This near child would carry our reputation into that court room and I would make sure he behaved as a Menlo trained slave should.

Which is why the uniform. It is always important with freeborn chattel to remind them that the things they cherish or that made them feel safe are not longer theirs or protective. Jason needed to understand he was not a young free athlete anymore.

He was chattel.

I should say now that I am not a homosexual. I would never touch a free male citizen. And that's not just because I detest body hair. No, I prefer pussy and tits.

But not a single slave boy has entered this home and not been broken by me. It's my duty. Like it was my father's duty.

And, yes, I do enjoy it. I don't find using property, even enjoying smooth male slave flesh, as at all homosexual.

It's about the physical sensations and the power.

And I could tell this boy's slave cunt would be a fun ride.

Jason

I was handed a tray with a glass and a pitcher of beer on it and pointed in the direction of Mr. Menlo's. He was in a room with a golden plaque on the door that said "Training".

I was able to open the door with my elbow.

I wasn't expecting what I saw.

It was a theatre room. Sort of. There was a giant screen playing porn. Like, straight porn. A group of free men surrounding and using a slave girl.

But there was no theatre seating. There was one normal chair with a table beside it. Then all sorts of weird equipment and leather benches and cuffs on the wall.

Mr. Menlo's deep voice boomed out, "Set the tray down on the table next to me and then kneel in front of your master, boy."

I set the tray down and then knelt in front of him. He gripped my chin and lifted my face up so our eyes met.

Then he said:

Your brother has done you no favors being so easy on you, Jason. Whether he intends to free you or not, right now, you are chattel that still imagines it's human. You're nothing. I could take a knife and cut off your balls and all that would happen is I'd owe your brother or the bank a fee for lost potential income or potential slave brats. I could kill you, choke you to death, and all I would owe is fair market for a slaveboy like you. I'm going to hurt you and you're going to pretend you like it and thank me and beg for more because you know it could always be worse. Do you understand, boy?

I whispered, "No, master."

He slapped me across the face, hard enough I fell back, and said, "You will."

To be continued?