Christopher Enslaved
Part One
By Randall Austin
This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com
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The most horrible day I ever lived through was the day my lifelong friend Christopher Worthington was enslaved for life at the age of 22, just 4 months before he and I were to graduate together from SDSU with our bachelors in chemistry.
On the evening of April 3, 2010, my dad told me to cancel my plans for the next day because he and I had something very important to do. When I asked him what was up he said he could not tell me, and that I would simply have to wait until tomorrow in order to find out.
The next morning over breakfast dad told me what was up. I reacted with stunned disbelief to what he told me. And because of what I was to eventually witness on that day, a strange trance like numbness stayed with me for several months, and even now on thinking of the events I revert into a haze, unable to believe that it really happened.
Christopher Worthington and I were friends since the age of 6, when we became neighbors. Our parents supported our friendship, though they themselves never became especially close with each other. Mr. Worthington was a successful businessman who stayed pretty much to himself, but he cared very much about appearances. Not only about how he and his family appeared in men's eyes, but how he appeared financially in the eyes of others as well. Indeed, Christopher was always neatly dressed, even at casual sporting events. His hair was always neatly combed, and his manners were impeccable. He and I grew up together and shared everything. We even decided, after much uncertainty, to drop our first choices for colleges, so we could attend San Diego State University together. And we had a great time in college. They were our happiest times together yet, even after the many years of good times we had shared. We were best friends for life. Or so we thought.
Dad told me that Mr. Worthington had contacted him only three days ago with news of his plan, and he was to keep it under wraps. He told my dad that he was letting him in on his plans because he knew that Christopher and I were lifelong friends, and he wanted me to be present when he announced his decision to Christopher so that I could offer him some support throughout the day, and help him get through the ordeal.
Mr. Worthington had fallen on hard times. He was in danger of losing the family business. Under California law children over the age of 18 who have not served in the armed forces or State National Guard before the age of 26 are subject to what are known as "lex talionis" restrictions, which means that they still do not have full rights as adults, though they are no longer considered minors.
Thus, parents still have the legal authority to enslave for profit a free born child if they can prove both that they no longer have the means to care for the child, and that the child fails to meet at least three of the "lex talionis" requirements. In Christopher's case he had a bum misdemeanor rap on his civil record for shoplifting, he had no record of civic volunteer duty, and he had more than three traffic violations. Therefore Christopher, on his father's order, was sold into slavery.
I was stunned. Dad tried to reassure me, saying that there was nothing we could do to prevent it, but that I could help in some small way by being at Christopher's side throughout the day he was to be enslaved and processed. If I would be at his house, when his dad announced that his life, as he knew it, was over; if I would accompany him to the slave processing center and wait for him; and afterwards if I would accompany him when he was delivered to Arthur Baldwin, who bought him and at whose estate he was to serve; if I would do these things for Christopher, then I would be doing all that I possibly could do.
When I heard the name of Arthur Baldwin, the bleakness that had possessed me suddenly turned to hopelessness. Arthur Baldwin owned Baldwin/Fletcher Enterprises and its chief concern was the Fletcher Farm and Canneries. Baldwin ran the cannery and farms almost entirely on slave labor, and the overseers of the slave teams were Baldwin's two sons, Arnold and Retcher. If Arthur Baldwin had a reputation as a cold-hearted businessman, his sons had the reputation throughout the valley as vicious sadists who delighted in punishing and humiliating their slaves. They were young, probably only about six or seven years older than Christopher and I, but they had reputations that far surpassed their years.
I remember how Christopher and I used to share stories we had heard about the Baldwin sons. And just two months ago we had seen them in town, each with a slave on a leash dressed in clown outfits, wearing large dunce caps and sandwich boards proclaiming; I was caught idling' on the front side, and Please spit on me' on the back. Christopher called out to them, on that occasion, saying that they were filthy slavers who deserved to rot in hell. I still remember Retcher looking back and seeing us, and saying, "Oh, its cute-ass Worthington. Man, how I'd love to have that pony pulling my cart!"
I cried, and told my dad it was injustice. He tried to comfort me. And as he embraced me I thought of all the times I had seen Mr. Worthington embrace Christopher.
That morning dad and I ate breakfast in silence. He told me that he and I had to be at the Worthington's by 11 am, since Christopher's appointment with the slave processing center was at 12:30. Mr. Worthington wanted things to go fast. After he announced his intentions to his son, and he got the final signature from Mr. Baldwin, Mr. Worthington pretty much wanted Christopher whisked out of his house for good. The plan was that I then would accompany Christopher, with police escort, to the processing arena, and then afterwards accompany the drudge (what slaves are called in California), along with two requisition officers, to the Baldwin slave compound.
Dad and I arrived at Mr. Worthington's house at quarter to 11. Mr. Baldwin was already there, holding a folder stuffed thick with papers. Also in attendance were Trevor Humphries, Arnold and Retcher's chief overseer assistant at the ranch, and two plainclothes men from the police department.
California is one of the few states that do not have special police units for the maintenance of slaves. It is still a liberal state, and the slave rights people maintain that slaves are not a different sort of human being requiring any special policing. Because of the liberal trend in general along the West Coast, private family ownership of slaves is still relatively rare. Slaves in the west are owned and maintained chiefly by corporations and the prison system.
I was introduced to Mr. Baldwin, and any fears that had built up in me that he was a monster were immediately dispelled by his seemingly genuine greeting, accompanied by a broad smile and a firm hand shake. It was Mr. Worthington, surprisingly, who looked like an evil person to me. He was very rigid in demeanor, with a distant gaze in his eyes, perhaps intensified by his nervousness over the situation. He thanked me for being willing to be at Christopher's side throughout the rest of the day.
Trevor Humphries seemed to be the kind of man one would expect to bring calm and sobriety to any situation. In his mid thirties, dressed in a blue blazer and tie, well groomed, he exuded a wholesomeness that was rare in those who handled slaves on a daily basis.
Also present was Christopher's brother, Dexter. Dexter was three years older than Christopher, and the two of them never got along. Dexter was always blaming Christopher when things went wrong, and got him into a lot of trouble through the years. Christopher got the rap when Dexter was apprehended for shoplifting some CD's once. Christopher always felt Dexter disliked him because he was jealous. I nodded to Dexter, and he smiled back. He was the only person present who did not seem somewhat apprehensive. Indeed, he seemed to be in good spirits.
When I started to say to Mr. Worthington, "Isn't there some -", my dad pulled me to his side and bent down and whispered, "Todd, there is nothing we can do any more to change the course of things. What you can do is just be with Christopher throughout this day."
This little interruption seemed to make everyone even more nervous. And Mr. Worthington, who had been glancing at his watch throughout the introductions, started glancing even more frequently. Finally when it was eleven o'clock, he looked at all of us and said, "Well, it's time. Are we ready?" Nods from the plainclothesmen and Mr. Baldwin. "Fine, I'll go and get Christopher."
My dad and I were nervous, I felt like I could cry at any moment. Within minutes Mr. Worthington and Christopher entered the room. On seeing me, Christopher smiled and said, "Hey Todd! Are you going along with dad and me to Spence's for lunch?" His dad answered, "Christopher, we're not going to lunch at Spence's. Would you come over here please?"
Christopher was still unaware that anything was up and smilingly went to stand beside his dad. The two plainclothesman got up and took places one on each side of Christopher. "Christopher, I have decided to make some changes around here, in our lives. As you know, my business has failed and needs capital to continue operations. Mr. Baldwin here has very graciously offered to help me out. I have therefore accepted his payment for your lifetime services."
"Dad?"
"Hear me out, son. I, of course, could never allow you to be enslaved and sold at auction. It was only because of Mr. Baldwin's kind offer to keep you on his property that I could see myself engaging in this course of action. We both owe Mr. Baldwin a sincere show of gratitude for what he has done to help us both out."
"DAD!" Christopher seemed to be having trouble understanding the full scope of things. His mouth was open and he was shaking his head.
During the preceding Trevor Humphries quietly took out a digital camera and started to take a few shots of the distressed Christopher.
Mr. Baldwin then spoke up. "Well, gentlemen, I have to be at a meeting in a little while. I just need to sign one final paper to complete the sale. I know the medical records are all in order. And seeing Christopher up close, I can see that my sons were correct. When I told them that Christopher might be up for sale, and asked them for their opinions, they both said it seemed like it would be a super investment, and urged me to secure the goods in haste. But because you have been keeping this under wraps, Mr. Worthington; understandably so in these conditions, of course, I did not have access to the usual pre-purchase full body photographs. Therefore, as is usual, I would like a quick view of the rest of Christopher, if you don't mind. I just want to see what I'm paying for, to make sure the goods are in order and there are no surprises."
"Of course, Mr. Baldwin. I insist on this myself." Said Mr. Worthington. "Christopher, remove your clothing!"
Christopher didn't seem to hear, and Mr. Worthington raised his voice. "Christopher, I'm not telling you again, remove your clothes."
Mr. Baldwin sounded reassuring, "Now, now, Mr. Worthington, no need for any harshness. It's understandable that the newly drudged aren't aware of what codes of conduct are required of them. That's why the thoroughly professional sort of training my boys will be offering to Christopher is such a balm to our slaves. When drudges are given clear guidelines, they know where we stand and where they stand. But anyway," continued Baldwin, giving a slight nod to the plainclothesmen, "I am in something of a hurry here, so if we could just move on."
With that nod one of the plainclothesmen grabbed Christopher's right arm, pulled from his service belt what looked like a piece of cylindrical metal tubing, and placed it over his thumb. He then started to gradually turn the top portion of the cylinder. He watched Christopher's face as he turned the screw. Suddenly Christopher screamed as if scalded with boiling hot oil, "Take it off, please, take it off!"
The plainclothesman responded, "We'll take it off as soon as you get every stitch of your clothing off." With that Christopher tore into removing his clothing with fury as he cried out in pain, practically kicking his shoes off, tearing buttons off his shirt, a Christmas present to him from my dad, in order to remove it in haste, wildly flailing to get his t-shirt off, pulling down his undies. Then, when totally bare before all of us, and crouching in a kneeling position trying to cover his crotch with one hand he stuck his thumb screwed hand into the air and screamed, "Take it off! Take it off!" The officer was quick to remove the thumbscrew, leaving a sobbing, crouching, Christopher trembling in confusion, as he rubbed his injured thumb with moans. Through all of this Humphries had been calmly clicking away with his digital camera.
The officers then pulled Christopher up by his shoulders. Dexter was wide eyed with excitement, his mouth open, and a bulge showing in his crotch. Christopher tried to cover his genitals but his arms were swiftly and firmly pulled behind him by the officers, leaving him totally bared for all of us to see.
"Now boy, don't you worry!" Assured Mr. Baldwin. "It's always amusing to me how the newly drudged are so full of modesty. You'll get over that in no time. We work the majority of slaves on field duty and in many parts of the cannery totally nude except for work boots. You'll get over being around the clothed non-slave employees in no time. About one quarter of our cannery work force are regular freemen employees. It's a very good arrangement. They help us keep tabs on the slave force."
Christopher's head was bowed. Tears rolled down his face, as Humphries advanced slightly, shooting the exposed, distraught lad.
"And judging from the looks of you, you will make one fine hard labor product. Ah yes. Very nice, indeed!" approved Mr. Baldwin, as he walked up to Christopher, to more closely examine his purchase. He ran his hand over Christopher's chest and tweaked his nipples. "A good solid piece of merchandise. Good shape. And a nice waggler on you, too, boy." He said as he took Christopher's penis in hand and weighed it, indicating it to Humphries. "Get a good shot of this," he said.
"But Christopher," he continued, "this thing I'm holding isn't going to be of very much use to you anymore, because one thing we do not allow at Baldwin/Fletcher is any form of sexual release whatsoever, and that includes masturbation."
Dexter let out with, "Wow, cool man!" Everyone ignored him.
As Humphries took a few close-ups of Christopher's unit Mr. Worthington expressed his discomfort at the delays. "Gentleman, isn't there going to be plenty of time afterwards to photograph your new purchase?"
"Actually, Mr. Worthington", responded Trevor, "there isn't. We need photos of Christopher before his processing. He is up for quite a few body modifications today, and Arnold insists on a complete preprocessing photo record of all the raw material on his slave teams."
"I see," murmured Mr. Worthington.
Mr. Baldwin continued. "As I was saying, Christopher, my boys deal very severely with those afflicted with the habit of masturbation." Mr. Baldwin finally let go of Christopher's penis and walked back to where he was standing, saying, "I just offer that to you as fair warning. My boys are very stern on that issue because they say that drudges who do not engage in such habits and pursuits are much more productive in a labor intensive work environment. They turn a higher profit. My boys are concerned about the labor efficiency of the entire team, and an efficient, labor intensive team, producing at top yield, creates an environment that is pleasing to all involved." Mr. Baldwin was a real slaver who saw slavery only from the business angle, and over that angle he tended to enthuse. But on this particular day his enthusiasm for business talk was to the distress of almost everyone in the room, especially to poor Christopher.
Only Dexter was bobbing and shifting in wide-eyed, openmouthed excitement. Mr. Humphries looked sideways at Dexter, and took a discreet snapshot of the wide-eyed older brother.
"Now Christopher," Baldwin continued, "you should be flattered to learn that you did not come cheap, especially since, as you probably know, your father sold you as a 'hard labor product.' That means I paid almost three times for you what I would have paid if you had been offered as a 'standard labor' product."
Mr. Worthington turned red as sweat ran down his forehead.
"Now that's good for you and bad for me. It's good for you because it means that you, as a `hard labor' product, can be worked up to 14 hours a day, seven days a week, whereas a 'standard labor' product can only be worked up to 10 hours a day, six days a week. It has been proven that hard labor drudges are far more content than standard labor drudges. Their minds are much more occupied, and the suicide rate for hard labor slaves is only about half that of standard term slaves."
My dad interjected a feeble, "Now wait, one second, Mr. Baldwin."
Mr. Baldwin thought only that dad was arguing with his business sense and continued. "Let me continue. Sound business practice dictates that one only pays hard labor product prices if the slaves are in their mid teens, since hard labor can only be extracted until the age of 42. So that means I get exactly 20 years hard labor return on my investment, compared to 28 years of hard labor if I had invested in Christopher when he was 14 years old. So I just want you to know, Christopher, that I am purchasing you at something of a loss as a favor to your father."
"Christopher, thank Mr. Baldwin.", urged Mr. Worthington. Christopher was unable to answer, only looking down at the floor as the officers held him in place.
Dexter interjected, "Come on bro, just once in your life try to show a little gratitude."
The lack of response from Christopher didn't seem to bother Mr. Baldwin, as he continued, "Now as a hard labor product that means you will be on duty and in service 14 hours a day. But don't think that just because you're a drudge now your life is going to be drudgery. Oh no. The boys see to it that 'HL's' what we call you hard labor products, have an active and varied schedule. They may have you cleaning cesspools one moment, tooth brushing the walkways and driveways the next, using you for target practice at another time, and then the next moment they'll want you looking your best, all freshly bathed, oiled, and heavily cologned for some activity at the house. So you will not be bored, young fella, ever, in your service at Baldwin/Fletcher farms!"
"Daddy, no!" Moaned Christopher.
Not registering in the slightest Christopher's distress, Baldwin continued. "Ok, now turn around, so I can see your backside." Christopher turned around, still choking on tears of humiliation, devastation, and the thumbscrew. "Nice backside. A backside always shows clearly the work potential of the product. And this one has good basic structure, which means it can be worked into becoming solid and successful draft material. We're kind of short of good sturdy draft animals on the farm right now. My boys will probably issue up an order to have you placed into chiefly draft service, which is labor at its most intensive. If they do that, don't worry. Draft teams get to spend plenty of time outdoors in the sun. It's an absolutely invigorating environment for a young man!"
Dexter taunted, "You're going to get some muscle on you, bro!", as Humphries snapped pictures of the backside.
To be continued...
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