Department of Indenture Control by BJinNAtl
The year is 2027. I was just a kid when it all happened, but I remember.
Unemployment was at an all time high, crime rates were rising to new heights. The homeless were everywhere you looked and more were becoming homeless every day.
The authorities did the best they could, but it was like swimming up stream.
The prisons were over crowded. Prisoners were being let out early, but having no skills and no means of supporting themselves, they'd just commit another crime and get arrested again.
Nobody really understood how things got so bad, but the citizens were frightened and angry. Riots broke out everywhere demanding something be done.
That's when President Hilton came to office and things turned around.
First, he closed the borders. Next he instituted martial law. Curfews were set up and the military and police departments worked together to enforce the new laws.
The biggest reform, however, was instituting indentured servitude for criminals and the indigent. That's a fancy way of saying slavery.
People were against it at first, but the money that previously was spent to house and feed a criminal was immediately pumped back into the community. Money was coming into the community, which meant more spending. More spending meant more jobs. More jobs mean more money, which means more spending, and so on and so on and so on. The general population was seeing a return to a better standard of living.
Before we knew it, slavery had become as American as baseball and apple pie.
A new elite force was created to oversee the slaves. This is where I come in. My name is Brad Johnson and I work for the Department of Indenture Control. Most people refer to us as the Slave Police or the DICs.
I was just out of high school when I joined the force. I wasn't exactly college material, and I figured it was the best way to keep my nose out of trouble and keep myself from being indentured.
I got to tell you, it was rough at first. Six months of basic training. That's worse than the army!
I was always a bit of a jock, so I figured the physical part would be no problem. The first week almost killed me! We were up 5am every day to calisthenics followed by a rigorous run, an obstacle course, working with weights and so on. Cadets were dropping like flies. We started with 50 in my group, but at the end of the first month we were down to 15.
Second month was when the fun started. The department figured they had weeded out the deadwood and only the die hards were left. They still had a rigorous exercise plan, but now we started learning about the job itself.
Training camp is connected to the Indenture Orientation Facility, otherwise known as slave processing.
As you know, most of the laws were modified to allow indenturement in place of imprisonment. This saved John Q. Taxpayer a bundle. Little things might still get you a small time in the county lock up, but a felony or career criminal was sentenced to life indenturement. Rapist or sexual predator such as a child molester would also include castration.
As trainees, we got to watch as they inducted a new slave to his new life.
A police van pulled up and a couple of cops brought in their prisoner. He'd already been stripped at the courthouse when his sentence was read. They brought him into the facility naked and scared, but you can't coddle them. You have to make sure they understand their new place in life right from the start.
The local police handed him over to the DICs who signed the proper release forms and gave the cops their receipt showing delivery of the merchandise.
First step is shaving. The new slave is chained with his arms raised above his head and his legs bolted to the floor. He's lathered up and all the hair is removed from his body. Arms, legs, crotch, head. Everything must be removed. When they are finished, they hose him down to get all the left over lather off.
Next stop is identification. The Department has a database to keep track of all the indentured in the country. Each slave has a unique identification number tattooed above his left breast. After tattooing, a microchip is injected. The microchip has a GPS in case of runaways. It's also programmed with the slaves id number in case the tattoo is some how removed.
At that point all you have to do is scan the slave and enter the number in the database to see who owns the slave.
Finally, a slave collar is placed around his neck. They say it's important to have a constant physical reminder on a new slave. Keeps them aware that their old life is gone and they belong to someone else now.
The new slave is then sent to the kennel until training begins in earnest.
I won't bore you with the minute details, but they train them how to properly address a free man, how to stand, how to obey their master's commands immediately. They're also trained, of course, on how to suck and get fucked.
I remember the first time I got to assist in training. I was working with an older guy, about 45, named Bill. Big fella. Stood about 6 feet, broad muscular chest. His hair was cut short in military style with a bit of gray at the sides.
We were training this young guy in his 20's. Convicted of armed robbery. He was a tough guy when he got here, but after the shaving and identification process he was just a scared new slave like the rest of them.
Bill said it's good to let them know who's boss right away. Don't ever let them forget they're nothing but a slave. A piece of property to be bought and sold and used however their master sees fit.
A slave has no need for a name. His new owner will give him a name if they feel it's needed. We just called him boy. A slave has to be in top physical shape to get a good price at the auction. Boy was no slouch. He was about 5'10, 150 pounds. What they call a "swimmer's build". Nice definition, but not a muscle boy.
First we attached a leash to his collar and had him run the track for a while. Every time he slowed down we gave him a crack of the whip for motivation. Nothing motivates a naked slave like the feel of a whip on his ass.
After his morning run, we hose him down and feed him his kibble.
Bill puts the slave on his knees and pulls out his dick.
"Open up, slave," Bill says. "I gotta piss like a Russian race horse."
"I'm no faggot!" yells Boy.
SLAP!
Before I could even see him move, Bill backhanded the slave across the face.
"Ya gotta let them know right up front," Bill tells me, "that they have no say. They must obey any order of any free man instantly with no hesitation."
"Listen up you worthless piece of slave shit. I've been training slaves since the program began. I haven't had one yet that didn't learn his place.
When a free man gives you a command you jump to!"
Bill grabbed boy by the neck and pulled him upright. Squeezing his jaws until boy's mouth opened, Bill slid his dick down boy's throat.
"Now," Bill commanded, "close your mouth around it and gently start to suck.
Watch your teeth and if you spill a single drop I'll strap you down and beat the shit out of you!"
I could tell Bill knew what he was doing. I'm sure gonna learn a lot from him. Boy was holding Bill's cock in his mouth and swallowing as Bill let loose. Bill was right. For their own good, you have to make the slaves understand he's nothing but a tool to be used. A piece of property. His very existence is at the pleasure of his masters.
"What you have to remember, Johnson," Bill told me, "is that our first and foremost job is to make sure the slaves understand their new situation. Who and what they were before is over. As far as their family and friends are concerned, they're dead and buried. If we fail at that, the slave is in for an unhappy life thinking he can go back to the way it was."
"I've found that nothing brings home to a new slave how low they've become than drinking their Master's piss. Especially straight ones."
"Ok boy," Bill commands. "Stand up."
Boy gets up off his knees and stands in front of us. You've heard the expression if looks could kill? That describes how he was glaring at us.
SLAP
Bill again slaps the slave across the face, knocking him to the ground.
"Get the fuck up you stupid shit!" Bill yelled at the slave. "Were you not listening when we taught you the proper way to stand before a free man, or are you just stupid?"
Boy pulls himself off the ground and stands in a proper slave stance. His feet are spread apart, hands locked behind his head and his eyes on the ground in front of him, a trickle of blood forming at the corner of his mouth where Bill had hit him.
"That's a good boy." Bill says.
"Notice the proper slave stance," Bill instructs me. " A slave should know to always show the proper respect to any free person. Eyes should be down cast, avoiding eye contact with their betters."
"Note the leg spread and the hands behind the head. This allows any free person access to inspect the merchandise."
Bill started rubbing his hands over boy's body. Grabbing his cock and balls, Bill hefted them in his hand.
"Nice set on him. He might be sold to one of the male brothels. They seem to run through slave meat like water. They're here every auction looking to replace their stock."
"If you're lucky, boy, you may be sold to one of the slave farms," laughed Bill, referring to a new enterprise where slaves are bred and the offspring raised and sold off as they reach maturity.
Bill was rubbing his hands over boy's chest while another reached around and felt his ass.
"You ever suck a man's cock, boy?"
"No, I told you, I'm not gay" boy answered sullenly.
Bill grabbed onto his nipple and twisted as hard as he could.
"Now, was that the proper way to address a free man?" Bill asked.
"Sir! No Sir!" barked boy.
"Now," Bill whispered softly into the slave's ear. "Lets try this again, shall we? Have you ever dropped down to your knees, wrapped those pretty lips around a man's hard cock and sucked and licked his dick until he shot his load down your throat, boy?"
"Sir! I've never sucked another man's cock, Sir!" replied boy.
"Well it's time you learned a new skill, don't you think? On your knees, Slave, NOW!"
Not wanting another smack across the head, the slave sank to his knees.
"Open your mouth," instructed Bill, "and cover your teeth with your lips."
Bill unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. It wasn't huge, about 7 inches, but it was about as thick around as a silver dollar.
Putting his hands behind the slave's head, he slipped his dick into the slave's mouth.
"Ok, you stupid slut, they call it cock sucking for a reason. Don't just sit there, start sucking on my fucking dick you worthless slave!"
Boy started sucking Bill's cock, his face a mask of disgust. Bill rode his mouth, sliding in and out, giving boy instructions on how to use his tongue, and his throat muscles to massage Bill's dick. It didn't take long before Bill had the slave's nose buried in his pubes and his cock all the way down boy's throat.
Bill turned to me and smiled. "It's one of the best perks of the job. I love breaking in a slave mouth, knowing mine is the very first cock to shoot a load of cum down it's throat."
With that, Bill started to pump the slave's mouth faster and faster. It only took a few minutes before Bill shoved his cock all the way down the slave's throat, tilted his head back and the slave got his first taste of hot man juice as it splashed against the back of his throat.
Bill pulled his cock out and boy started coughing and choking on his first taste of hot man cum.
"Don't worry about it, cock sucker," Bill told him. "You'll be spending a lot of time sucking dick before the auction. You'll get used to it."
To me, Bill said "Most buyers prefer a suck slave to already be trained in oral copulation. His ass, however, is off limits. The buyers tend to prefer to bust a slave's cherry themselves. A virgin straight boy will bring a higher price at auction."
About that time another slave walked in carrying a tray.
"Oh good!" exclaimed Bill. "It's lunch time."
He led boy to the wall behind the table and attached his leash to a hook in the wall. We filled his bowl with slave chow while the other slave set up the tray on a table for us The aroma from the meal was making my mouth water. I had been so caught up in the training I hadn't noticed how hungry I had gotten.