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College Boys - Part Four
Jack Parker came from an old-established family which had prospered in business for many decades. His father had been instrumental in expanding the interests of the family into many areas of commerce and had consolidated the family's wealth. Apart from the various businesses in which he had an interest, he had acquired large tracts of land and he liked to think of himself as being a member of the landed gentry. With the rapid expansion of the town, he had disposed of much of the land for urban development, reaping large profits in the process, but he retained for himself a large estate on which he resided in a mansion and conducted farming on a small scale. This was not a major revenue earner but he saw it as a pastime that befitted a country gentleman. With the downturn in the economic fortunes of the country, the viability of some of his business interests came into question and, in particular, his farming operations came under the spotlight. He had virtually decided to suspend these when the nation's fortunes received a shot in the arm via the re-introduction of slavery. He immediately realized the benefits to be reaped by using slave labor and became an avid supporter of the system. Jack, his only son, grew up in this environment and when the old man died some years later, Jack continued to manage the family's affairs in much the same way his father had. He did, however, cut back on the farming operations in which he did not share his father's enthusiasm, but allowed his wife, who was a country girl, to continue in a small way mainly as a hobby. He sold off a substantial number of field slaves retaining just sufficient for the running of the household and the maintenance of the estate.
Jack had two sons, Richard, who was known by all and sundry as Rick, and Robert (Bobby) who was two years younger than Rick. As is the case in all wealthy families, Jack had plans for his elder son to eventually assume responsibility for the running of the family businesses which he would eventually inherit. Rick was a good-looking boy who was a keen sportsman and this allied to the fact of his belonging to a wealthy and influential family, ensured his popularity among his peers at school. He came across as the typical "rich kid" and he was always quick to take advantage of the situation. He moved in "jock" circles and had become friendly with Charlie Smithers and Dallas Pierce who were kindred spirits.
Rick, having grown up in surroundings where he lacked for nothing and where his every whim was satisfied, was inclined to be rather too "snotty" for his father's liking in dealing with people, even adults, less fortunate than himself. However, Jack felt that this superior attitude would be an asset when he eventually assumed his position in the community in later life and did little to curb his son. Not surprisingly, Rick treated the family slaves with little tolerance and from an early age had them at his beck and call. Shortly after he was given an SUV on his seventeenth birthday, he father gave him the task of taking one of the household slaves down to SSI to be flogged for insolence and it was there that he made the acquaintance of Lars Jacobsen, the chief overseer. Lars was taken with the young man and offered him the opportunity to return to spend an entire day down at SSI as his guest. He also lent Rick a copy of the textbook "The Psychology of Slave Ownership" by Helmut Schmidt which made a great impression on the young man. While on the tour of the SSI facility, Rick had commented on the eerie silence in the warehouse and Lars had explained that the rationale of the code of silence was to inculcate in the minds of the new slaves an immediate sense of fear and the need for absolute obedience. Rick witnessed a number of beatings that day and Lars espoused to him his belief that "a flogged slave is a good slave". He suggested to Rick it was a maxim that would serve him well. During the course of the following months Rick was instrumental in having a number of the Parker slaves flogged and the Young Master, as he was known, became a figure of fear and one to be avoided if at all possible. Rick's father took note of what was going on but felt that perhaps it was time that the slaves were shaken out of their comfort zone.
After dinner on the day that Tom Pierce had spoken with Jack Parker regarding the possible purchase of Brad, Jack informed his son Rick that he would like to see him in his study.
"Close the door Rick." Jack commenced. Then he continued, "As I told you on your eighteenth birthday son, I think it's time you became more involved in the affairs of this family. I realize that you will be leaving for college in the near future and that you will be concentrating on your studies, but nevertheless, when circumstances permit, I would like to involve you when decisions are taken so as to keep you up to speed."
He continued, "This morning Tom Pierce asked to see me and made a most out-of-the-ordinary suggestion. Naturally he is most concerned about Bradley's enslavement and wishes if possible to avoid his falling into the hands of the one of the commercial enterprises or brothel keepers. He therefore asked me whether I would give consideration to purchasing Bradley when he comes up for auction next week. I confess I was rather taken aback as I had never given the possibility a thought. I pointed out that if I were to purchase the boy, he would be treated in exactly the same fashion as our other slaves, and he knows full well what my views are on that score. He assured me he understood the implications of Bradley's new status and that the slave control authorities had in fact been in touch with him and advised him that the family should now put Bradley out of their minds and get on with their lives. I told him that was extremely good advice. I indicated I would give the matter some thought and would let him know my decision tomorrow. At the moment we really do not have the need for another slave but Tom is a long-serving employee and a lifelong friend, so I felt constrained not to turn down his suggestion out of hand. What do you think of the situation Rick?"
"Dad," Rick replied, "I must say I'm as surprised as you are. As things now stand, I have been feeling for some time that there might even be a possibility that we could sell off two of the outdoor slaves. With a little pressure I'm sure the others would be capable of taking up the slack. It's the sort of thing that needs to be done from time to time in order to maximize productivity. I haven't mentioned it previously as I had intended asking you whether you would have any objection to one of the slaves accompanying me when I leave for college. I had thought that that might solve the problem of over capacity."
Rick continued, "You are quite right in thinking that it might be the correct thing to agree to Tom's request. However, in speaking with Lars Jacobsen down at SSI, he mentioned in passing that the authorities do not take kindly to erstwhile friends or acquaintances of a slave purchasing it as the suspicion arises that the deal might have been concocted in order to give the slave an easy ride. The authorities contend that that sort of thing, if allowed to proliferate, would undermine the entire institution of slavery. If you were to purchase Brad, we would have to ensure that he was given no special treatment. On that basis I would say go for it. There is after all the possibility of selling off a couple of the other slaves at a later date."
Jack thought for a moment or two then answered. "Son, you've raised some really good points. Firstly I'm quite prepared to have a slave accompany you to college. I've discussed that very possibility with some of the other fathers and the consensus is that, with slaves serving your basic needs, it would allow you guys to really concentrate on your studies. Apparently the dorm slaves provided at college are of a pretty inferior caliber. So, let's say that that matter has been decided. The point you mention about not molly-coddling Bradley is well made as we cannot afford to take any heat from the authorities. The problem is that I do not have the time to keep a close watch on things. I am wondering therefore whether I could ask you to take on the responsibility of overseeing him and possibly even taking him, not one of the other slaves, to college with you?"
Rick kept a straight face but allowed himself a little inward glow of satisfaction. It really had been quite easy to manipulate his father into making the suggestion himself.
"Dad," he replied, "if that is what you want it's OK with me. But I would really need to be given carte blanche in handling the situation."
"That's a given son. OK, I'll tell Tom tomorrow we'll make a bid for Bradley at the auction. I'm sure it will take a load off his mind."
The auctions at Slaves-r-Us and latterly at SSI had become quite festive occasions in Sunninghill. They had the air of a county fair save for the absence of sideshows. However, refreshments were always served and many pensioners took advantage of the company's largesse. The auction hall at SSI, in contrast to the remainder of the facilities, was nicely appointed and basically consisted of a dais on which the slaves were displayed under spotlights, and in front of the dais rows of comfortable chairs for prospective buyers, family and onlookers. It was possible to display up to twenty slaves at a time and they were secured only by a chain connected from one of their leg shackles to the floor. The auction was conducted not by SSI but by the slave control authorities themselves and the ever menacing presence of members of the Slave Police ensured little rowdiness on the part of the slaves. The authorities were well aware of the importance of the slaves deporting themselves properly. There were, however, chains hanging from the ceiling over the dais and in need slaves could be hoisted up by their wrists to ensure immobility.
The slaves were placed on display for one hour before the auction began to enable prospective buyers, and inevitably some lascivious perverts, to closely examine the merchandise. If a prospective buyer wished to make a closer examination of a slave, he would make his wish known to one of the SSI handlers who would attach a leash to the slave's collar and lead it off the dais to one of the four small inspection rooms at the side of the hall. During the inspection hour the slaves would stand at ease with heads bowed and hands behind their backs. They were meant to stand immobile and if there was any excessive movement a flick of a handler's cane would soon serve as a suitable reminder.
The authorities were well aware of the importance of presentation and it must be said that SSI were meticulous in their preparation of the slaves. By the time they were led on to the dais, they had been given three enemas, been shaved and showered, and had their head hair uniformly trimmed. Their bodies had been oiled and glinted under the spotlights. The cheap yellow plastic collars had been removed and they all now sported temporary smart leather studded collars. In addition they were fitted with shiny metal cock rings and variously wore leather studded arm or wrist bands. The overall effect was quite enticing . Brad found himself in the front row and almost in the middle of the dais and uttered a silent prayer that none of the Pierce family friends or any of his acquaintances or school peers would be in the audience. He stole an upward glance and could see no one that he recognized. A male couple who, even to his inexperienced eye, were gay were displaying quite a bit of interest in him. The older one must have been in his forties and was clearly the executive type, while the younger one was in his early twenties. His gestures were rather effeminate and he wore tight clothes and a touch too much jewelry, while his hair was tightly cut and bleached blond. It wasn't long before the older partner called over one of the SSI handlers, who wore a tag indicating his name was Steve, and asked whether they could examine Brad in one of the inspection rooms. Steve quickly snapped a short leach on to Brad's collar and led him off the dais. As soon as he entered the inspection room, Blondie was all over him. He ran his hands down Brad's chest and over his ass, cupped his balls and gave his dick a little tug. He was clearly entranced.
"Well, Terry, what do you think?" asked the older partner with the air of a father talking to his ten year old son in a bicycle shop.
"Oohhh, Clay, he's just gorgeous!" Terry gushed, at the same time giving Brad's left bicep a little squeeze. "Do you think it's possible we could have him?"
"Well, we'll have to see how the bidding goes." Clay replied. Brad thought that Clay wasn't very happy with what he was witnessing and had his doubts whether Clay would be bidding too strenuously. He was highly relieved.
Shortly after being returned to the dais, a young man Brad estimated to be about 28 years of age, looked him over with interest. He was in the same mold as the SSI handlers. He wore khaki pants and a tight t-shirt with the logo "Serrano Pleasure Farm" on the chest. His hair was cut short and he had on a brown leather belt and wore brown boots. Ominously, he carried a short curled hide whip. He signaled to a handler and told him he would like to examine Brad in one of the inspection rooms. "Yessir! Mr. Serrano. Right away!" the handler responded. He clipped a leash on to Brad's collar and told him to move his ass. Mr. Serrano wasted no time in physically examining Brad even to the extent of checking out the condition of his mouth and teeth. Brad was mortified.
"So, tell me boy, are you a virgin?" Mr. Serrano asked.
"Oh no Sir!" Brad replied. "There was this one girl in my class at school......"
"Don't be stupid boy!" Mr. Serrano interrupted. "I'm not interested in hearing about your adolescent dalliances with the female sex! Have you had a dick up your ass?"
"No Sir!" Brad replied, with a hint of too much indignation in his voice.
"Don't you get smart with me boy! I'll have your ass whipped! Well, then, have you sucked cock?"
Brad by now was nearly in tears. "No Sir." he all but whispered.
"Well, not to worry." Mr. Serrano offered. "It's an art easily learnt. And practice makes perfect!"
Brad was returned roughly to the dais to await with trepidation the auction.
By the time the auction was due to take place, the crowd had thinned. The gawkers had seen what they had come to see and had had a chat with acquaintances while enjoying the refreshments on offer. Basically only interested buyers were left. The slaves meanwhile had endured the mauling from the prospective purchasers and by now were virtually numb from standing immobile in one position for such a lengthy period.
The slaves came up for auction one by one. Brad was sixth in line and when he assumed his position on a little raised platform he happened to glance up briefly and was shocked to see Jack Parker and Rick in front of him. He looked directly at them but they gave no indication of recognition whatsoever. What on earth are they doing here? he wondered. The auctioneer intoned Brad's age and physical statistics (his cock length was given as 6.5" when erect, and Terry nudged Clay, who told him to shut up), and then, as was required by law, informed the prospective buyers of the reason for his enslavement, namely, aggravated sexual assault. Terry by now could barely contain himself much to Clay's annoyance.
There was keen bidding among the buyers but gradually they dropped out one by one and it seemed that Mr. Serrano's last bid would be accepted. At that point Jack Parker entered the fray and every time Serrano made a bid, Jack would top it. Eventually it was clear to Serrano that Jack was determined to win the day, and he withdrew with a shrug. Brad couldn't believe what had happened. He was to become a slave at the Parker estate!
As soon as Brad had been knocked down to Jack Parker, two handlers grabbed hold of him by the arms and he was hustled off the dais and returned to the warehouse, all the time being told to "move your pretty ass slaveboy".
Rick went through to the administration offices and asked to see Lars Jacobsen. Lars came out and smiled when he saw Rick.
"Hey Rick!" he greeted him. "Long time no see. What you doin in this part of the world?"
"My Dad just bought the former Bradley Pierce." he replied. "I'm gonna take him with me to college." he proudly announced,
Lars seemed impressed and said "That's way cool, Rick. I wish you luck with the slave."
Rick asked Lars how he should proceed with Brad's processing and thereafter taking delivery of him.
"Tell you what Rick." Lars replied. "Why don't you come down tomorrow and we can discuss it. I'd be happy to oversee the processing myself and of course offer any other help you may need. Say, 9 o clock?"
Rick smiled from ear to ear and thanked Lars.
"See you tomorrow then Rick!"
Rick arrived promptly at 9 o'clock the following morning at the SSI facility and one of the young handlers showed him into Lars Jacobsen's office.
"Good morning Rick," Lars greeted him. "Take a seat."
"Thanks Lars. It's real good of you to see me. I hope you don't think of this as too much of an imposition".
"Not at all Rick. The final processing of the slaves that pass through our hands is part of the service we offer here. And I'm always pleased to pass on to young guys who are becoming participants in slave ownership what knowledge and advice I can. Have you given some thought as to what you want done to this particular slave?"
"Well, Lars, I know what I would like to have done to him but I have to take into account my father's wishes and sensibilities. He is from the old school and, although he has always taken a no- nonsense view of a slave's status in society and in handling his slaves, he hasn't kept up to speed with the modern methods of slave management now being espoused. It's something I've become interested in, as you know, and I can clearly see that Dad doesn't have the on-hands control that's necessary to obtain the best return on his investment. He's pretty busy managing our businesses. Since my eighteenth birthday, though, he is involving me more and I've taken it upon myself to implement a new regimen without upsetting the old man too much. I took your advice and had a couple of the slaves flogged as you know and matters are looking a lot better around the estate I can tell you. I'm sure we will be able to sell off a few slaves without compromising productivity."
"I get the picture, Rick, but my advice to you is not to hold back too much. Keep up to speed with new developments and do what's necessary. I have two basic beliefs. Firstly, the entire system rests on a very simple strategy and that is the use of the whip. This strategy has been in force down the centuries and is the one thing that is as valid today as it was in Roman times. Nothing compares to it in instilling obedience in a slave and, in our society where many free men are turned into slaves overnight at the whim of a judge, it is the best way to inculcate in the mind of the slave as soon as possible the new status it has assumed. If I had my way, every slave who passed through my hands here would receive fifty lashes as part of its processing. This is fast becoming standard lore among slave handling professionals. My second belief is that the slave from day one should be made to assume the look of a slave, that is, a look that is far removed from that of a free man. It should keep that slave look at all times as a reminder to it of what it has become. I know many people think that "slave appearance" is something that is there for amusement's sake but, for the serious slave owner, it goes deeper than that."
Lars continued "Let's get down to details and then we can go through to the processing center and get on with it. It's not our normal practice to allow it but, if you would like, I'd be happy for you to accompany me and witness the processing. I think you are a serious young guy and the experience would serve you well in the future."
"Thanks Lars," Rick replied, "that would be great."
As soon as the auctioneer had knocked me down to Jack Parker, I was grabbed by the arms by two of the SSI handlers and hustled off the dais and taken back to the warehouse where I was pushed back into the cage I had previously occupied. Apart from being told to move my ass, not a word was spoken. I lay back on the sleeping shelf and tried as best I could to marshall the conflicting thoughts that were passing through my mind. I had been bought by Jack Parker, my father's boss, whose son Rick was one of my brother Dallas's best buddies! I couldn't fuckin believe it! I tried to assess the implications of it all. No doubt it was a better fate than falling into the hands of that fag couple, Terry and Clay, or Mr. Serrano from Serrano Pleasure Farm. I wondered what a "pleasure farm" was all about. From what he had said, it probably wasn't too pleasurable from the point of view of his slaves! But I couldn't shake this sense of foreboding I had about becoming a Parker slave. I was bound to come into contact with former friends and acquaintances, not to mention Dallas, and the thought of how I would be able to face that prospect terrified me. The realization too that I seemed now to be accepting the situation I was in, and no longer dwelling on the terrible injustice that had been inflicted on me, frightened me. That night I slept an uneasy sleep.
The following morning we were awoken early as usual and after being told to piss and shit, we were showered and hosed down before being returned to our cages where we were fed and watered. After quite a while, there was suddenly a commotion and the steel doors were thrown open. About ten young handlers entered and a like number of us slaves was pulled from our cages and lined up. We were quickly attached to each other at the collar by three foot chains and marched at the double through the steel doors and into the processing center. I was learning fast that everything to do with a slave had to be done at the double. Again we were lined up, this time in front of who I recognized as the chief handler, and told to bow our heads and kneel. Amazingly, Rick Parker was standing next to the chief handler! We were told to rise, lift our heads and stand at ease. I stole a glance at Rick but he showed no sign of recognition. The chief overseer addressed us informing us that we would be processed in accordance with our new owners' instructions and thereafter delivered to our owners. Some would be handed over today while others would be taken delivery of the next day. One of the administrative assistants then went down the line with a hand scanner, read the barcode on each slave's wrist and matched it to a card which was attached to that slave's collar. The chief overseer then gave the instruction to proceed and one by one we were unattached from the rest and led off by a handler to be processed.
Most of what happened thereafter was performed by resident slaves under the supervision of the individual handlers. The details of what needed to be done to each slave was recorded on the card attached to the collar and the fear displayed by the slaves as a result of not knowing what was to be done to them was palpable. In the light of what I saw there, I consider myself extremely lucky that I was merely fitted with large but quite heavy metal earrings and given the usual comical haircut. Rick had chosen for me a "reverse cross" which consisted of a two-inch shaved strip from the center of my forehead to the rear of my head, and another from ear to ear. The result was four distinct clumps of hair which the slave barber had been instructed to gel and spike. When I eventually saw my reflection in a mirror, I was mortified. Some of the other slaves were variously fitted in addition with tit rings, nose rings and penis clamps. A number of them had their heads shaved completely and two, who were uncut, were scheduled to see the slave vet the following morning to be circumcised. When everyone had been processed, we were reassembled at the end of the hall, chained together again and chased through a rear entrance, which I hadn't noticed before, to a small outbuilding. As we entered we were hit by a stifling wave of heat which we saw came from an old-fashioned forge being worked by two slaves stripped to their waists. Here it was that we were to be fitted with our permanent collars. It had become the custom for slaves to be fitted with light-weight alloy steel collars, often of a shiny color, but that was not to be my fate. Rick had selected for me a heavy black iron collar about an inch and a half wide and three eighths of an inch thick. It was hinged on the one side and at the other side the two ends of the collar came together with flat overlapping flanges through which a red-hot rivet was dropped. Thus the collar was sealed. I had suffered some burns to my neck in having the collar fitted but that seemed insignificant compared to the weight which I now carried around my neck. I was in tears.
We were reassembled in the processing center. A few of the slaves were given uniforms to don which had been provided by their new owners and then led out with leashes to the dispatch bay where their owners were waiting to take delivery of them. The two slaves who were to be circumcised the next morning were taken back to their cages in the warehouse. Three of us remained. I had noticed that when we returned to the processing center the chief overseer and Rick were standing there chatting and they now went through a door into another room. We were gagged and muzzled and then pushed through the door into the same room. What greeted my eyes horrified me. There were assembled in the center of the room four adjustable St. Andrews crosses and the chief overseer and Rick were now standing to one side in the company of two handlers each of whom had in his hand an unfurled six foot hide whip. Where we to be beaten? If so, why? The other two slaves had a wild look in their eyes and fear was frozen on their faces. I suppose I looked the same to them.
It is difficult to describe the harsh reality of a flogging. It is difficult to conceive the amount of pain that the body is capable of generating and every time the whip licked my back or thighs, a thousand thousand nerve ends sent a message of excruciating pain to my brain. It is impossible to understand how civilized beings are capable of inflicting such torture on others of their own species and for no apparent reason. After five or six lashes, I passed out and a bucket of cold water was thrown over my head to revive me. Only then, when I was once again conscious , did the flogging resume. After twenty lashes, I was taken down and across the room to a bare table where a slave applied a soothing unguent to my back and thighs. I was thereafter made to march back, unaided, to my cage in the warehouse. I had deep red welts across my back but the skin was not broken, a tribute to the skill of the whip-master. The other two slaves were not so fortunate and were each given fifty lashes. Their backs were a bloody mess. I surmised that I had received only twenty lashes as Rick had probably wanted to avoid any possible confrontation with his father. I resolved there and then that I would do anything, anything, to avoid another flogging. The following morning I received further attention to my back from one of the resident slaves and was told that I would be allowed to rest for the remainder of the day. On the following morning my owner would be collecting me.
To be continued.