I was turned on to this universe by the writing of Pete Brown UK. Heated up by some stories from Steam Train. These two authors directed me to the works of Richard Davies, One Ring, Randall Austin and others. This story is set in a near-future world in which enslavement is the norm. This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get some help.
_________________________________________________________________ By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo.com)
When I was in school they taught us about the enslavement laws and how they had helped get America out of the economic slump of the early part of the century. Like all good schoolchildren I learned that the world could no longer afford the expense of all the convicts and "burdens on society." It was so much better for the economy - and kinder to the downtrodden - to give them useful roles as slaves. Meanwhile, the preacher in church always told us that wealth equals goodness. Without question, I learned the catechism: "God only gives wealth to those who deserve it. God only brings enslavement to those who deserve it." So I came to accept it all as being for the good of our nation and as part of God's good plan.
When I entered my teens I learned that our history textbooks were a little dated. Slavery may have started as a way to deal with criminals, but in the economic dislocations that happened during my childhood, anyone who went into debt was likely to end up a slave. Many families only avoided debt by selling one of their sons into slavery. Politicians liked to explain that the cost of bringing poor people up to a decent standard of living would ruin society, whereas making them useful as slaves would grow the economy.
I was never concerned about this though. My father had a good job with Winston Industries. Well, it didn't pay a lot of money, but it was a steady job that he could depend on. Our family rented a small house in one of the housing tracts in the town of Winston. We had a television and a working kitchen - this was more than many working families. But we had never dreamed of things like vacations or cars or computers. Most of my clothes and certainly all our furniture came from the second-hand store and I know mom always scrimped and saved on our meals.
Winston Industries and the town of Winston had of course been in the hands of the Winston family for as long as anyone knew. Captain Winston could be seen riding through town on horseback but more often in a carriage drawn by one or two of his fine muscular pony slaves. He was a tall, dignified man with brown hair that had gone silver at the temples. He looked like he had once been quite an athlete, with powerful chest and arms and legs. He was still in pretty good shape for a man who was around 50. The captain seemed quite intimidating up in his carriage or even as he strolled down the streets of the town he owned.
The summer I was 12 I actually spent time at the captain's mansion on top of the hill. I played together with the captain's two sons. Randy was my age, he was always very nice and really seemed to want to be friends with me. But his older brother, Brad, was an awful bully.
I had originally met the two boys because of Brad's nasty attitude. As I walked down the main street of our town, so proud of the new clothes my mother had bought me - they were so crisp and barely worn - Brad suddenly came out of a store, did a doubletake, pointed to me and started laughing. I looked down at myself. Was my fly open? He called out, "Hey poorboy, how do you like wearing my old clothes!" He seemed to think the fact that my mother bought his cast-off shirt at the second-hand store was the funniest thing in the world.
But then his younger brother Randy came out of the store and said, "That's not very nice." There were some words between the brothers that ended with Randy saying, "Well, that shirt looks way better on him than it ever did on you." Randy then approached me, started up a conversation and invited me to the mansion to go swimming. I visited them for a few weeks. Let's just say it was something Brad did that made me stop going over there, but it's something I've tried to put out of my mind.
It was just about two years later that everything changed for my family. Mom was diagnosed with a terrible illness. Of course dad had health coverage from his job, but that was standard worker's insurance and only covered the basics. I had always known how deeply in love my dad and mom were. I learned the depths of love as dad did everything in his power and beyond to try to save her. He said he "wouldn't let her die in a dirty, poorly staffed clinic." In spite of the expense he had her taken to the quality hospital used by the rich folks. It was a long drawn-out illness that cast a shadow over my teen years and mom finally died just after my 17th birthday. That's when dad had to start seriously figuring out how to pay off the bills.
In spite of our economies and dad's best efforts to save, the amount he owed only kept getting bigger. Dad said it was compounded interest. I didn't understand what that meant but it didn't seem fair when the debt had only come about because someone had died. One day, dad came home from work and his face looked grey. He suddenly looked older than I had ever seen him before. He kept on looking at me like he wanted to say something, but then would look away from me quickly. We had a simple dinner of noodles and then dad told me and my brother Will to change our clothes. "Put on your best cleanest shirt and your church pants." We asked why and he just snapped at us. This was very unlike dad.
When we returned dressed as neatly as we could, dad seemed sorry for his tone of voice. He asked us both to sit down and he began, "Boys, there are some very tough decisions that need to be made. I've tried to do the right thing as your father. But, there are certain circumstances...." Before he could go further the doorbell rang. Dad seemed very harried and nervous and told us both to stand up. What was going on?
There at the door was Captain Winston, standing tall and proud in his tan suit. Beyond him at the curb I saw his open carriage with two naked pony slaves in harness. The captain smiled in a kindly way and looked around the room. "Ah, I always like to see what my people have done with the houses I built." He turned and said, "This must be the boy we talked about... and the younger one." He approached me and Will and shook our hands. I was frozen in the spot and didn't know how to act. I had never even heard of Captain Winston coming to any of the houses of his employees - well, except for the executives who lived on the hills surrounding his mansion. But I had surely never imagined the captain in our neighborhood.
Dad had always told us what a nice man Captain Winston was. Of course the Winstons had slaves. How could they run their businesses without slaves? How could they maintain their spectacular home and property without slaves? And the wages where dad worked were pretty low, but wages were low everywhere for working people. I immediately got a warm feeling from the captain - his eyes crinkled when he smiled and I felt he was trying to make us feel at ease.
Dad ushered Captain Winston to our one big comfy chair and then stammered out, "Could the boys get you anything to drink, sir? Water?" With the same benevolent smile the big man said, "Water, yes." I rushed to the sink and filled a glass with water. When I brought the glass to the Captain he looked at it, looked at me, smiled kindly once more and put the water down without tasting it.
He fixed his gaze on me and asked, "And when do you turn 18, young man?"
Before I could answer my dad said, "His name is Wally."
The Captain seemed annoyed and said, "Yes, I know young Wally. A few summers ago he played with my sons for a bit. Even back then I thought to myself what a fine-looking lad he was." I was flattered to think that the most important man in our town knew who I was. My father and I said "Thank you" in unison. But then the captain continued, "I thought Wally was well brought up at that time, but then it turned out he was terribly ungracious toward my younger boy's invitation." I flushed and before I could think of a reply, the captain said, "Your birthday, Wally?"
"I turn 18 on the first of June, sir."
Then abruptly, the Captain said, "Take off your shirt, Wally." I looked to dad and he nodded. I felt nervous being ordered to take off my shirt without any explanation why. I held my shirt in one hand and felt the Captain's eyes sweep over me. Then he turned to dad and said, "I'm thinking the boy doesn't get much protein in his diet." Dad looked embarrassed and said, "We've been trying to economize, sir."
The Captain looked at me and said, "Seeing as you're still a free boy and you're only seventeen, I certainly can't go any further now. You may put your shirt on, Wally." I mumbled a thank you as I quickly buttoned my shirt but the Captain had already turned to my dad and asked, "Did you tell him about it yet?" Dad shook his head.
The captain motioned with his hand and I sat on the lumpy sofa next to his chair. He began to speak quietly, "I don't know if you're aware, Wally, how serious your father's financial situation has become. He is very close to being declared a debtor. If that were to happen, he would be enslaved. I'm sorry to say that his debts are so great and his assets so limited that if he were to be enslaved for his debts both you and your brother would also be taken and sold as part of his assets. Your father would be a permanent slave. I'm not sure what the status would be for you two boys.
"I've always thought well of your father, Wally. I have a large company but I like to keep track of my employees and their families. I've seen you boys in church. I believe you do come from good stock. So I've made your father an offer. There's only one way I could see for him to avoid enslavement for the entire family. That is for him to sell you into temporary slavery, Wally."
My mouth was hanging open. I looked from the captain to my dad and back again. I didn't know what to say. I had always been such a good boy. I never broke the law. I would even wait at a traffic light when no cars were in sight. Ever since I was little I had been warned about the horrors of slavery, I had seen the captain's slaves out in his fields doing hard labor all day. Suddenly, I couldn't breath, was that to be my fate? Given my father's debts, I should have realized my enslavement was inevitably on the horizon.
My father must have seen the look on my face and he added, "No, no, Wally. It's not as bad as all that. The captain has offered to buy you himself. And it would only be for two years and you wouldn't be treated like the other slaves and...."
"Now hold on," the captain broke in. "Let's be clear on this. I said I estimated a two-year enslavement in order to give you the amount of money you need to pay off your debts. But since we can't do a real assessment till he's turned 18 and the papers are signed, that's only an estimate. Also, I cannot have a slave that's treated differently from other slaves. I have an estate and a business to run. I couldn't maintain good order if my slaves felt one of their number was getting special treatment."
The captain took an ominous pause but then got a pleasant look on his face as he added, "What I did promise was that for the two years of his slave contract I would not use Wally for heavy labor. I would use him only for indoor purposes and around the house, maybe gardening or caring for the pool, but not out in the fields or in a factory. I also said that for those same two years I promise not to house Wally with the field slaves. They're a rough batch and him being so... boyish... well I'd be worried about his well-being."
Dad immediately jumped in with "Oh thank you, Captain. I always told my boys you were a caring and a good man and I trust your word completely."
They both looked to me expectantly. I didn't have the courage to look the captain in the face as I asked, "Well, sir, what about the... ummm... the punishments?"
The captain sat back comfortably in the chair as if he had expected this question. "There are a range of corrections and encouragements for slaves, some quite severe. But tell me, Wally, if you were my slave, would you run away? Would you try to strike your master? There are very severe punishments for crimes like those committed by slaves - the bullwhip leaves marks that never go away. Masters need these options or else the system wouldn't work." He leaned closer to me and then asked, "What I want to know is would you be disobedient or disrespectful?"
I realized he was waiting for me to answer and I jumped in with, "Oh no, sir, I would always be respectful and do as I'm told."
The captain corrected me by saying, "You'll do as you're ORDERED, lad. You will be a slave and you must obey. Now I'll tell you in no uncertain terms that during your first days as a slave you will have some difficulty adapting. There may be a time when you forget to call me master. There may be a time when you're slow to follow a direct order, or when some free boy attitude shows in your face. The slave prod set to just 10% would give you a little sting, a little reminder that will help you to become a better slave. And if you were to repeat such behavior, well, in the best interest of your future as a slave, any slave owner worth his salt would slap your little butt with a paddle or strap."
Dad jumped in approvingly, "As well he should."
The captain rambled on, "Now if you were surly, defiant, disrespectful, if you defied an order from your master or had a nasty attitude, then we might take the cane to your bottom. Honestly now, Wally, do you think I'm going to have to get the cane out for you?" The captain smiled in a very kind way and even chuckled a little. I smiled back at him and shook my head in the negative. He reached out a hand for me to shake. When he took my hand, he said forcefully, "I gave my word on certain things, lad. Two years of keeping you for only household duties and of not housing you with the field slaves. Do you give your word that you won't defy orders and won't be disrespectful?" I assured the captain of this and then I turned and smiled at my dad. There was such a look of relief on dad's face that I actually felt good about my fate.
The captain now added that he had advised my father against telling me in advance. He said that usually boys in my position had to be grabbed at the moment they were told about enslavement. He said telling me about the enslavement at this time was a risk my father was taking, since there was always the chance I might try to run away. But the captain explained that if I ran I would be considered a fugitive and treated as a runaway slave even though I had not yet been collared. He also said that if I ran my father would not get any of the money he was counting on as of my enslavement. The result would be enslavement for my father and my little brother.
I listened intently to what he said, knowing I would never run away given what that would mean to my father and brother. "Captain, I feel I should apologize to my father for putting him through any concern about the issue of my enslavement. I certainly knew about the financial problems he was having and I should have realized that my enslavement would be the best solution."
The captain reached out his hand and gave me a firm handshake. He grinned and said, "While you're still a free boy I can shake your hand and express my admiration of what a fine young man you are." Dad and Will went to the kitchen to get a bottle of fizzy water for celebration. The captain still had my hand in his. His other hand touched my mouth. He asked me to open my mouth so he could check my teeth. I knew this was something that was done to horses, but it seemed strange to do it to a person. His fingers tasted freshly washed but it felt odd as he touched my tongue, my teeth, and he especially seemed to be feeling my lips. He whispered "Such nice soft lips you have, little fella, I'm looking forward to having you in my house." then chuckled a little, all so quietly that neither my dad nor my brother heard him.
By the time dad and Will had returned from the kitchen, the captain had already left the house. The three of us hugged. Has any enslavement begun in better spirits? Two years. I would only be used for "indoor purposes." I knew the hard work and regimen would get me toned and build up my muscles. I would be 20 when the enslavement was ended and ready to start my life, maybe start college without any debts hanging over my family. At least that's what I thought at the time.
(I'd enjoy hearing from people who enjoy the story and who have ideas about where the plot may go. You can reach me at redbeardedsf at yahoo.com. If you hate the story, hate me or hate yourself, I have no time for that. BTW: although it's told first person by the boy, I identify with the captain, heheheh.)