Mortal Servitude

Mortal Servitude

By Randall Austin

Short Story

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

Randall Austin's Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

Layne Pedderson, not 100% certain of where he was, slowly opened his eyes and looked about. He was in a jail cell; but in what city? He thought he was in Opportunity, Washington, but he really wasn't sure. He had slept in his clothes. They brought him in after his arrest for drunken driving and put him in a cell.

How would he explain this mess to his father? How would he manage the start of college in the fall? Living in the foothills of the mountains, a car was a necessity for commuting. As Layne rubbed his head, he thought, `what a fuckin hassle!'

Layne thought some more, `Maybe because it's my first offense they'll go easy on me. I have no police record. I'm almost an A student'.

Layne sat up on the cot and tried straightening his shirt and hair. He felt all rumpled, icky, and dirty. Layne didn't like feeling rumpled and icky because he was a neat boy. He liked being neat, clean, and well groomed. His mother always seemed especially proud of him when he was neatly dressed and groomed.

He saw a mirror above the sink in his cell, and as he made his way to the mirror he wondered how he would spin this story so his younger brother, Lars, wouldn't think poorly of him. Layne, 19, was esteemed by Lars, 15, and today he had promised his brother they would spend the day together.

Layne turned on the warm water in the sink, let it run, and looked in the mirror. He didn't look as bad as he felt. Nor did his shirt. When the water was sufficiently hot he wet his hands, and ran the warm water through his hair. He reached in his back pocket for his comb, but it was gone. His pockets had been emptied.

Layne did the best he could arranging his wet hair with his fingers. As he primped himself his usual thought came to mind, `what a cool looker I am!'

A voice called, "Mr. Pedderson", followed by the speaker, Sgt. Dennis Hilliard. Outside the cell stood a 40-year old police officer. His dark uniform took Layne momentarily by surprise, but he answered, "Yes officer?"

"Glad to see you're awake. We're leaving in about 15 minutes for the courthouse, so if you have any potty business to do, you'd better do it now."

Layne looked at the freestanding toilet. It didn't have a seat attached, just the bare porcelain bowl. "It doesn't have a toilet seat."

Officer Hilliard explained, "Removable parts are not allowed in the cells. You have to kind of squat over the thing and do your stuff, or else you can just sort of sit on the edge. It's kind of cold when it first touches your skin, but the regulars seemed to get used to it."

Layne thanked the officer, and waited for him to leave, since he had to use the pot, but the officer stayed, and began to speak. "Drunk driving is a serious matter in this state, I'm sure you know that boy. The best course of action is to be polite and tell the truth to the judge. Everything is on videotape. You were in pretty bad shape when Officer Huntley picked you up. He'll be at your sentencing."

"Sentencing? How can I be sentenced without being convicted of anything?"

"Mr. Pedderson, you convicted yourself by your actions last night. It's all on tape. All that remains is for the judge to rule on the classification of your offense, and set the penalty."

Layne was suddenly frightened. "I have to call my dad." "He's already on his way son. He's been notified and he'll be at the court house when we get there."

"What city am I in, officer?"

"Coeur d'Alene."

Layne blurted, "Oh my gawd!" He knew he shouldn't have blurted out in front of the officer. But how could he have prevented it? Idaho was a state ruled by cops and judges, and dedicated to ridding its putative Aryan pedigree of any and all lawlessness.

Layne tried to cover his outburst, "I had no idea I was so far away from home."

Officer Hilliard twitched his nose, "Well, that's what drinking will do to you. Now you'd better do your business so we can get a move on it."

Layne looked at the toilet, paused, and waited to see if Hilliard would leave. He didn't. Layne made his way to the pot, unzipped, tried to stand slightly to the side to block the officer's view of his tackle, took out his member and started peeing. Once the water hit the pot, Officer Hilliard left.

Layne was relieved. Once he had finished peeing, he quickly let down his slacks and undies, squatted over the toilet, and did his business. When he had finished, he looked for the toilet paper, but there was none. He wondered if he should use the bedding. He stood, pulled the front of his pants up to cover his genitals, and called for Officer Hilliard.

"There's no toilet paper to wipe with."

Officer Hilliard pointed to a thick white cloth on a shelf next to the sink. "There's no wiping. You take that piece of cloth and stuff it in between your butt cheeks, then pull your undies up tight over it to hold it in place."

Layne curled his lips, "What?"

"They'll clean you up after sentencing." Layne didn't like the sound of that, "Who'll clean me up?"

"The processing boys. Now hurry and get your pants up. We need to get going right now."

"But I'm all dirty."

"The pad is designed to hold it all in and cover any odor. Don't stall anymore. If the judge finds out you were not cooperating with me, it'll make things worse for you than they already are."

Layne, deciding it was best not to make any trouble, stuffed the cloth between his butt cheeks and pulled up his undies and then his trousers, as Officer Hilliard watched. Layne winced in misery. He could not stand the feel of the cloth between his butt cheeks. Officer Hilliard opened the door to the cell and ordered Layne out.

As Layne walked the dirty squishy feeling between his legs created a most unbearable feeling. Layne found himself taking slower steps to avoid the unpleasant squishy feeling. Officer Hilliard didn't like it. "Let's get a move on it. No time to worry about being Mr. Clean. In fact you won't have to worry about things like personal hygiene ever again. From now on other folks will be doing those things for you. You've proven yourself incapable of controlling yourself and taking care of your own best interests, so now it's time for the state to step in and do those things for you."

Layne let out a startled, "What!"

Officer Hilliard explained, "Social servants in this state are well cared for. They get everything done for them. You'll be bathed and oiled every morning just like a little baby. You'll be fed and watered. You'll get potty trained all over again so that you do your business each day on the state's schedule. And at night, if you didn't merit any strappings or lock-downs throughout the day, when they secure you down to your bed for the night you'll be given a special servant pacifier to suck on. It will help you sleep. It was designed especially for well-behaving social servants."

A sinking feeling hit Layne, and he was unable to react to Officer Hilliard's words. After a few more steps, Officer Hilliard stopped Layne and cuffed his hands together behind his back. Tears came to Layne's eyes as he was cuffed. Layne was surprised when Officer Hilliard took a tissue and wiped his tears.

As Officer Hilliard wiped Layne's face, he spoke in a comforting voice, "I'm not cuffing you because I think you're going to try and make a break for it. I know you won't. You seem like a nice boy. It's such a shame to see boys like you end up like this. I'm cuffing you because it's Idaho State standard procedure, and there can be no deviation from the standard under any conditions. The letter of the law has to be followed in every situation, as it will be in your sentencing." The drive to the courthouse didn't take long, and once Officer Hilliard and Layne had gone through all the courthouse entry checkpoints, Layne was considerably relieved. All the people he had met were pleasant and cordial, and not at all like the stolid yahoo hicks he had imagined every resident of Idaho to be.

Officer Hilliard led Layne into the almost empty courtroom, and to a seat in front of the judge's bench. He then walked over to Layne's father, "You're Mr. Olaf Pedderson?"

"I am officer." Mr. Pedderson, looking worn, stood and shook Officer Hilliard's hand, and introduced him to his youngest son, Lars.

Officer Hilliard smiled big and eagerly shook the hand of Layne's brother. He then asked Mr. Pedderson, "Did you have a word with the bailiff?"

"Yes, officer. He told me the procedure."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Pedderson."

Layne, watching his father and the officer chat, but not able to hear them, was surprised to see Officer Hilliard place a hand on his father's shoulder, as if offering condolences.

Layne tried to make eye contact with his younger brother, but Lars seemed to be having a hard time looking in his direction.

As Officer Hilliard invited Mr. Pedderson and his son to take a seat, a young man of 35 years, dressed in a suit and tie, entered the courtroom. He had with him his 12-year old daughter. As the man and his daughter took a seat on the bench in back of Layne, he looked Layne over with great interest.

The man's daughter tugged on his suit jacket and asked of Layne, sitting in the row ahead of them, "Is that our new servant, Daddy?"

The man whispered, "Yes, honey, I believe it is."

The daughter whispered back, "Why is he dressed in his street clothes, Daddy?"

The man whispered, "Every state does things differently, honey. They each have their own rules on servant decorum and procedures. And I don't know about Idaho, honey. I don't know a thing about this state."

In the ensuing moments about 10 people took seats in various parts of the courtroom. Three officers from the Social Services Authority entered and stood off to the side of the courtroom.

The last people to enter the courtroom, before the bailiff closed the doors, were three young men wearing service jumpsuits that had the words, "Harvard Training Services" emblazoned on them. They took seats directly in back of the man with the daughter, who looked at them and nodded.

No sooner had Officer Hilliard taken a seat next to Layne, when the bailiff announced, "All rise for Judge Anthony Baylor." All rose. Judge Baylor was dignified and fatherly looking; Layne found some relief in that.

The Judge spoke, "Layne Rolf Pedderson; drunk driving is a serious crime, and if society were to be lenient with those convicted of such an offense, it would be remiss. We shall now watch a replay of your conviction on tape."

The bailiff pushed some buttons, a large television screen, located to the left of the Judge's bench, went on, and soon a video came on. The first scene was a shot of Layne's car, taken from the police car following it, showing the car weaving perilously in and out of its lane.

The video only got worse from there. At first the car tried to make a getaway. Only after the car did a wild skid that almost flipped it did it come to a halt.

Next on the video, Officer Huntley, now seated in the rear of the courtroom, could be heard ordering the suspect out of the car. Layne's car door did not open; instead all that could be heard was the voice of Layne shouting, "Fuck you, you gawdamn pig!"

When Officer Huntley finally succeeded in pulling Layne out of the car, he could hardly stand. He tumbled from side to side, and as Officer Huntley told him he was under arrest Layne seemed to be dazed and unaware of what was happening.

At first Layne was embarrassed watching the video. By the end of the video he was deeply ashamed, and put his head down. When the video was turned off in the quiet courtroom, Layne could hear his father weeping from across the other side of the courtroom.

Judge Baylor ordered Layne to stand. He did, but kept his head down. His face was red with shame. The judge spoke in a calm and even voice. "Layne Rolf Pedderson, you are guilty of driving under the influence of alcohol. In the state of Idaho, DUI arrests trigger two separate cases. The first case is this criminal hearing, where the convicted face indenturement, fines, mandatory alcohol education classes, and corporal punishment. However, those who are caught drinking and driving in Idaho also face consequences from the Idaho Transportation Department."

"For the criminal case, the law of Idaho allows for some leniency for a first offense. Therefore I am sentencing you to the minimum penalty for a first offense: four years hard labor indenturement; a $5000 fine; and a public reformatory strapping on the bare buttocks."

There was dead silence in the court. All that Layne heard was himself swallowing in disbelief. The judge continued, "When you have completed your term of indentured service, and have satisfied all the requirements of your sentence, you shall then be remanded to the Corrections Bureau of the Idaho Transportation Department, where you shall be taken to the Kootenai County House of Punishment. There you shall be hobbled and secured in a reformatory cell, and be subjected to a regimen of strict rehabilitative and punitive discipline for a period of 10 months. The House of Punishment shall allow you to find your dignity, as you: make amends; atone for wrongdoings; rectify your shortcomings; offer society restitution; find your voice of reconciliation; reestablish your moral balance; kiss the face of justice; make recompense to the state; recognize legitimate authority; learn honesty; value freedom; and find once again not only the path of rectitude, but learn to walk that path with pride and honesty within the full breadth of the law."

There was pause in the judge's sentencing when Mr. Pedderson began sobbing again. Once he calmed down, the judge continued. "Once the requirements of both your servitorship and your punishment reform program have been fulfilled, you will then be evaluated by a Kootenai County Servant Authority psychiatric team. If the team deems you fit and able to resume your position as a productive member of society, you shall then, under the auspices of the County Servant Authority Medical Services, have your two rear molars remove to indicate that you fulfilled the requirements of the Corrections Bureau of the Idaho Transportation Department; have your foreskin surgically bisected and flanged to permanently mark you as a freed servant; have emplaced in your scrotum a GPS tracking chip; and, once the marking and tracking procedures are completed, you shall then be released back into society as a cognizant and reliable non-servitor."

Mr. Olaf Pedderson broke down again, this time in convulsive sobbing. Layne couldn't believe any of what he had just heard. And still Judge Baylor continued. "Layne Rolf Pedderson, in a few moments you shall be bared and trussed and receive your first punishment as a social servant. When the strap hits your flesh for the first time, I want you to greet it and pay attention to everything that it makes you feel. For it is your new teacher. And so it must be, since you have rejected your first teachers; wisdom and common sense. Since you have so wantonly abandoned your mentors who have guided you up until this point, you must now be given a new mentor; pain. Accept it and be grateful."

"For you, Layne Rolf Pedderson, shall be remade. You shall be cast in a new mold, and formed into probity through mortal servitude. All the days of your sentence shall henceforth be days of service. Service that will not only benefit your owner for the short term; benefit you in the long run; but benefit all of society for all of time. Layne Rolf Pedderson, I hereby send you forth to be remade."

The judge banged his gavel and ordered Layne Pedderson to step forward. He then called for the Social Servant Authority detail to come forward. The three officers, who had been standing at the side of the courtroom, came forward, and the judge ordered them to prepare Layne for his strapping. One of the officers' uncuffed Layne's hands and instructed Layne to remove his shirt and under shirt, as another officer removed a large prison strap from a carrying case.

When Layne was standing bare-chested in front of the courtroom, one of the officers fitted a pair of blinkers around his head. The blinkers made it impossible for Layne to see anything but straight ahead. He felt suddenly horrible, knowing how goofy he must look to everyone, especially to his younger brother. There he was bare-chested and blinkered, and about to be strapped in front of everyone. He felt like a horse.

An officer guided Layne to stand in front of a wooden and steel frame, and told him to grab a hold of the frame's sides. When he did so, Layne realized that he was standing in front of a pillory, a thing designed for him to hold onto as he got his ass strapped. His butt was now sticking way out for everyone to see, and he felt humiliated and ridiculous. And he felt even more shame when an officer reached around and unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and tugged them down. Everyone could see the bulge in Layne's underwear which held his diaper pad in place. The officer put on plastic gloves, and then pulled Layne's undies down, along with the diaper pad. People could see the shit stains on the pad. The officer pulled his undies all the way down, bunching Layne's trousers and undies at his feet.

Another officer locked Layne's wrists to the pillory. The man with the daughter, who had been sitting in back of Layne, strained his head to try and get a view of his new slave's tackle, but from where he was seated Layne's equipment was out of view. He didn't really care.

The officer with the strap took his place in back of Layne and began strapping his ass without ceremony. After the fourth blow Layne was crying out loudly. After the eighth blow Layne was squealing. After the 15th blow Layne was twitching his ass every which way to avoid the strap, including twisting to the side. After the 20th blow Layne was calling out to the judge to please stop the strapping.

Serious red markings on Layne's ass were visible to all, and as the strap fell on oft-strapped flesh, Layne's squealing pitch rose. By the 25th blow Layne was jumping and twisting so seriously that some observers wondered if the pillory would tip over.

With each blow Layne would turn his body almost completely around so his torso was facing the spectators. Layne no longer cared who saw his private parts; he just wanted to protect his behind from the stinging, burning, strap. Each time that Layne twisted his torso, the officer doing the strapping waited for Layne to turn himself back around so he could resume his strapping. He let Layne take his time.

Layne's new owner, and his daughter, by this time had seen plenty of Layne's tackle, and were pleased with what they saw. The man, Mr. Brompton, although heterosexual, especially liked ordering male slaves around who had big cocks. And the daughter, too, enjoyed having plump cocked slave boys working around the house.

When the officer delivered the 33rd blow, he stopped and put the prison strap back in its case. Layne was still howling long after the last blow had landed.

While Layne hung on the pillory twitching, turning, and burning, the judge called out, "Bailiff, would you please escort Mr. Darrell Brompton to the bench."

The man with the daughter whispered in his daughter's ear, stood, and went with the bailiff up to the judge's bench. His daughter remained seated.

The judge spoke to the man in the suit, "Mr. Brompton, this is Layne Rolf Pedderson secured to the pillory. While the pictures that were taken of him last night in the jailhouse and put up on the web were not very flattering, you did indicate an interest in purchasing him. Now that you've checked him out a little, are you still interested?"

Mr. Brompton smiled and nodded, "I am, your Honor."

The judge asked, "Do you want to check him out some more before finalizing?"

"No, your Honor. The court faxed me Mr. Pedderson's medical records, and based on the record and what I can now see, I'm quite satisfied that all is in order."

The judge asked, "You've indicated that you wanted Harvard Training Services of Coeur d'Alene to handle the servant's initial prepping, docking, and ID installation; do you still wish to employ their services?"

When Mr. Brompton indicated that he did, the judge called for the three jumpsuited technicians from Harvard Training Services to approach the bench. The three young men were full of energy, and eagerly approached the bench.

The judge spoke to the technicians, "Gentleman, this is Mr. Darrell Brompton, and the freshly indentured boy on the pillory is his new servant, Layne Rolf Pedderson." Mr. Brompton thought the natural course was to shake hands, so he shook the hands of the three young men from Harvard Training Services. Everyone was smiling broadly around the judge's bench except Layne.

The Judge handed some documents to Mr. Brompton, and explained, "Mr. Brompton, once you sign the papers and make payment, the technicians can take Layne downstairs to the courthouse's processing facilities and perform not only the basic processing procedures, but any special or customized requests that you may have."

Before Mr. Brompton perused the judge's papers he looked at Layne and nodded, "Okay. Thank you." After a pause, he added, "Standing near to him now, I can smell him. He stinks."

Officer Hilliard responded, "He's been wearing a diaper pad, sir."

Mr. Brompton laughed, as he looked over the documents, "I see."

One of the technicians spoke reassuringly, "Don't you worry sir. We'll clean up his tushie real good and have him smelling like a daisy."

The judge frowned at the technician, and Mr. Brompton smiled as he signed the documents. When he handed the signed documents and a check to the judge, the judge looked at his signatures, wished him luck, gave his bailiff final executive orders, and exited.

Layne's father slowly approached the men remaining around the bench, followed by his youngest son, Lars. He caught Officer Hilliard's attention, and by gesture wondered if he might approach his son. Officer Hilliard said out loud, "Of course, please come forward."

Officer Hilliard asked Mr. Brompton if his new servant could meet with his father, and Mr. Brompton answered, "Yes, Certainly."

When Mr. Pedderson approached Layne, one of the Social Service detail officers freed Layne's hands from the pillory. Layne could only look at the floor. Mr. Pedderson touched his son on the back. Layne turned and faced his father, and started crying uncontrollably, "I'm sorry Dad."

As Mr. Pedderson hugged his flesh-bared and blinkered son, nothing more was said. Layne was still too grieved and shocked to give much thought to his exposed and blinkered appearance. The three jumpsuited technicians, and all the remaining spectators in the courtroom, looked at Layne and his father with some pity. After allowing a long hug, Officer Hilliard spoke, "Mr. Pedderson, the bailiff can supply you with the latest copy of the state's visitation guidelines. Only two visits are allowed during the first year of indenturement, but after that visitation rights are more frequent and flexible."

The bailiff went to a documents shelf, grabbed some pamphlets pertaining to servant/family relationships, and handed them to Mr. Pedderson, who, when handed them to Mr. Pedderson, appeared as if he would break down and start sobbing again.

Layne bent down to pull up his trousers, but one of the detail officers stopped him, "Don't pull them up. Instead, step out of your clothes now, because we are going to be taking you down to get you fixed."

Layne stepped out of his bunched up clothes, and removed his shoes and socks, keeping his backside to his young brother. When he was finished, he stood keeping his backside facing the court spectators, many of whom were still in their seats, wanting to see everything that happens to newly indentured boys. Layne cupped his hands over his genitals.

Young Lars felt sorry for his brother, who now stood naked in public, except for a pair of blinkers.

The bailiff glanced at the boys from Harvard Training Services and pointed a finger at Layne. The processing boys knew it meant that it was time to fetch Layne and take him down to the processing facility.

The bailiff spoke, "Mr. Brompton, the processors are about to take Layne down to the facilities and do the basics. Is there any fine tuning you want done on him?"

One of the technicians handed Mr. Brompton a photocopied checklist of available procedures.

Mr. Brompton scanned the checklist, "Thanks a lot for this checklist. I have been so rushed this morning I haven't had time to think about this stuff. I suppose I should get him snazzed up immediately so everything is taken care of."

One of the technicians responded, "Of course. Remember, Mr. Brompton, you want a servant you can be proud to show off, even if he is just a couple of hours old."

Mr. Brompton nodded, "You are absolutely correct." As Mr. Brompton looked over the checklist he rubbed his chin and hemmed and hawed as if he were ordering toppings for a pizza, "I think I'll have one of these package deals. It's cheaper, right, if I select one of these packages rather than going à la carte on the body modification procedures?"

One of the Harvard Training Services boys beamed, "Absolutely sir. You save as much as 20% with a package."

Layne felt as he had never felt before; useless and pitiable. He wanted to flee into his father's arms for refuge, but doubted if his father still even cared for him. His thoughts of self-abasement were interrupted by the voice of Mr. Brompton. "Okay, this "Flemish Deluxe" package looks good to me."

Another well-groomed Harvard Training Services boy responded. "That's a very popular package, sir. It starts off with a full-body scrub down, including the mouth and rectum. It's followed by a round robin of anal rinses. It includes the emplacement of a full complement of control rings to allow for complete and total body tethering of the servant."

"It includes a full blemish treatment, which will nicely remove those teen zits that your new boy has on his neck and back." As Mr. Brompton nodded approvingly, the processing boy continued, "It's followed by a complete nail treatment: trimming, cleaning, and polishing. And the highlight of the package is the body coloring capped with areola and glans highlighting."

Referring to the checklist, Mr. Brompton asked, "What exactly is an "areola and glans highlighting?"

A technician answered, "We brush and treat the area around his nipples and the cock head with a special product that colors them and highlights them. Depending on what color you have your boy dyed, the areolas and glans are colored accordingly to make them stand out. So if you were to have your boy dyed a dark brown, the areolas and cock tip would be colored a sharp mauve hue. If you choose to have a lighter skin shade, then we dye his cock tip and areolas a deep red."

The technician continued, "And the package includes some special highlights that are both decorative and practical. We do a deep piercing of the navel or belly button. The navel guide ring is catching on as a great control device for servants. In the past folks tended to think of navel piercings as purely decorative, and so only tiny rings were used. But in fact, the navel can support serious sized control rings. We're doing a lot of business these days emplacing servants with giant belly button rings that can be used as tether and control points. And the large four-inch diameter ring that we use is very attractive, as well."

Mr. Brompton nodded, "Sounds very nice, indeed."

Another technician spoke, "And it isn't noted, but all package specials include a full body shaving, oiling, and clover scenting; and on male slaves the cock and balls are fitted with wide gauge rings that hold everything up and forward."

"When we deliver your boy to you he'll be totally cleaned, inside and out; he'll be a lovely brown color, with his tits and cock tip nicely highlighted, and his lips painted to match; he'll be fully body-ringed; his cock and balls will be thrust proudly up and forward; and he'll be fitted with an anal pacifier rod. The anal plug will have a foot long control handle sticking out of his butt hole for ease in guiding him around. You won't recognize him when you see him all shaved, squeaky clean, and super oiled. He'll be looking as shiny, sleek, and bald, as a lubed-up, cum-leaking, wagging, cock."

All the technicians, the detail officers, and Mr. Brompton, laughed heartily at the lusty humor of the processing boy.

Mr. Brompton called out to his daughter, "Is there anything special you want to have done to him, honey?"

The little girl smiled, "Can we have flank rings put on him, Daddy?"

Mr. Brompton at first hesitated, but then responded, "Those take a long time to heal, but if you want them, sweetie, I'll have him flank-ringed."

Mr. Brompton looked at the processing boys, "All of her friends' slaves have flank rings, and she's always wanted our boys to be similarly ringed."

One of the processing boys commented, "They are nice looking, and they provide another convenient control point. But you are right Mr. Brompton; they take some time to heal. Don't use his flank rings for tethering until at least after two months."

Mr. Brompton nodded, and then looked at his watch, "How long is this all going to take?"

The well-scrubbed technician answered, "We should have him all ready and in the pickup area in about two and a half hours."

Officer Hilliard spoke to Mr. Pedderson, "Sir, if you would like, once the processing team has finished getting your son kitted and polished, and before he is removed from the premises, you can have 10 minutes visitation time with him."

As Mr. Pedderson asked Officer Hilliard for instructions on where he could visit with his son once he was processed. One of the processing boys went up to Layne and manipulated his cock with both hands to get his pubic hairs away from the shaft. Once his penis was free of snagging hairs, he grasped Layne's foreskin, pulled it forward, and began tugging him along by his foreskin. Layne took stumbling steps as he was led away by one of the processing boys. The other two processing boys followed as Layne was led out a door that said "Elevators to Induct and Ground Complex."

Lars, watching his naked and blinkered brother be led away by his foreskin, wondered if any one who had been through what Layne had just been through could ever return to normal.

**

As Mr. Pedderson drove his young son, Lars, back to Washington State, he realized it had been a mistake to wait and visit with his oldest son after he had been processed. A big mistake. Lars was still in tears.

In the courthouse, Lars had managed to watch his brother Layne get stripped, blinkered, and severely strapped, without losing control. Mr. Pedderson had thought that it would be impossible for Lars to see his older brother be humiliated any further.

But when Layne was led into the visitation room after his processing, to meet his father and brother, Lars recoiled at what he saw. And if it was hard on both Lars and his father to see Layne looking so exposed and modified, it was doubly hard on Layne being so exposed to his family.

Layne was dressed in only green slave shorts and sandals, and was fitted with a larger but more decorative set of blinkers than the ones he wore in the courthouse. But his shorts had openings in the front and back, so his heavily ringed cock and balls were thrust forward and up. And out of his butt stuck a foot long handle end of his butt plug by which he was steered and led into the visitation room by a Service Authority officer. With both of his wrists cuffed to sides of his shorts, Lane was unable to use his hands to cover his bobbing, newly colored, genitals.

His entire body was dyed a deep tan, looking much like an artificial suntan. And his nipples and cock tip, so totally exposed, were dyed a lascivious, deep, shade of red which drew everyone's eyes to them. And to match his nipples and cock tip, the processing boys had painted his lips with a matching shade of red lipstick. Dangling from the end of his cock was a large diameter and thick gauge cock ring that went through his cock head.

And he was pierced, all over. In considerable discomfort from all of the recent body piercings, Layne had a pained, hopeless, look on his face. The two large flank rings, on either side of Layne, just above his hips, looked especially painful.

Mr. Pedderson and Lars had less than ten minutes alone with Layne when Mr. Brompton and his daughter were led in to take possession of Layne.

The Brampton's stared in delight at the bald, shaved, ringed, dyed, oiled, and glistening, body of their new servant. The little girl immediately went up to Layne and looked at his flank rings, "Wow, they're neat Daddy". Her father beamed as she took hold of Layne's butt plug handle and guided Layne to stand next to her and her father. She kept her hand on Layne's butt handle once she had him positioned where she wanted him. Layne could only keep his blinkered head down in shame as the little girl took in the sight of her family's new server boy, and smiled at her new servant's jutting, oiled, ringed, two-toned, cock.

Mr. Brompton smiled at Mr. Pedderson, "Your son has sure made my daughter one happy little girl." When there was no response from Mr. Pedderson, Mr. Brompton began to tell his daughter of her new responsibilities. "Now remember, honey, your mother and I are giving you considerable responsibility in the care and upkeep of Layne."

"I know, Daddy."

"With a servant, you can't go getting tired of caring for him and neglecting him, the way you did with your dog Porter when he was just a puppy."

"Oh, Daddy, I know that!" "Your mother hates servants who are not well groomed, and you will be responsible for making sure he's squeaky clean and nice smelling each morning. Do you think you can do that, honey?"

The little girl was thrilled with her new responsibilities, "Oh yes Daddy!"

Layne's body was so strange looking that even his father wondered if he should give his son a farewell embrace; would it hurt him with all of his piercings to be embraced? Would his dye job be smirched? Would all of that body oil rub off on his suit? But the concerns faded quickly and Mr. Pedderson gave his son a long and very tight hug.

And when Mr. Pedderson was finished, Lars also gave his brother a long and tight hug. But once Lars hugged his older brother, he began to cry. And his crying did not stop, even once Layne was taken away by the Brompton's, and the Pedderson's began their drive home, back to Washington State.

In the car Mr. Pedderson placed a hand on his weeping son's leg to comfort him. Lars reacted, "Dad, I know why the judge called it "mortal servitude". Layne is never going to be the same Dad. The Layne we knew can never come back."

"Son, you stop talking like that. Layne will be back with us in less than five years. And I am going to start counting the days until his return."

Lars continued speaking though his sobbing, "No one can go through what Layne has been through today and not be changed. He's already different. The Layne I knew is gone, Dad. Gone!"

Lars broke down completely and put his head in his hands. Mr. Pedderson pulled his car off to the side of the road and stopped. He hugged his son. Father and son, on the roadside, wept together. They had met servitude up close. And they both knew, despite what the father had said in trying to offer comfort, that servitude is, indeed, mortal. The changes it brings are profound, impact a lifetime, and are forever irreversible.

The End