As most writers I appreciate commetns on the story. As a teacher of writing, I also know that opther eyes see things in stories that the author would never note, and so appreciate constructive comments. I hope that these tow chapters are worth the wait.
daw
Chapter 8
Justice Delayed is Justice Denied
Andrew sat there in the chair and actually almost fell into a trance. The day on the road gang, the punishment session, and now this enforced confession was so overwhelming that his mind simply went into the withdrawal mode.
He was drawn out of his reverie by the sound to the key in the door and the door's opening. At the door were two of the officers from the jail, in their military like uniform and massive boots. "You've had enough rest shit head!" the first one through the door announced, and the second one announced, "You are needed to do your job as the toilet slave, and the sooner we get you back there on duty the happier the guard staff will be. We have been cussed out by several guards who actually had to use toilet paper after their shit. You are needed NOW!"
With this last comment the two went to work on the straps that had held me on the chair, and order Andrew up. Andrew was all too ready to leave this place, even if it meant tongue cleaning officers' butts. There certainly was degradation in that occupation but that was less than the pain and defeat he had suffered in that chair. Andrew found it harder to dislodge his butt from the plug in the chair, but with an encouraging strap across his back as he leaned forward Andrew was able to raise himself up using his arms and hands on the chair's steel arms and although still painful when the largest part of the plug cleared his ass ring, he was up.
"GET NAKED!" was the next command, and Andrew responded by tearing and ripping off his tie and jacket, and then tearing his shirt off him. Andrew realized that these clothes were no longer a part of his life, and being careful to save them was not nearly as important as getting them off his body before he felt further encouragement from a prison strap. He almost succeeded, but was somewhat proud that his back received only one additional blow from the strap.
Andrew was now in his prisoner clothes – his collar. Andrew awaited the next order, and indeed it came immediately "Drop and follow." Andrew went to all fours, and as his lead was snapped onto his collar he began another of the precipitous dashes down the halls. We had not gone far when another set of boots appeared in front of the little parade. These boots however were gleaning in spit and polish splendor.
"Is that 756?" a deep and very authoritative voice asked.
"SIR yes SIR" was the snappy and in unison reply. "SIR we are taking him back to latrine duty in the main guard latrine, SIR. Andrew trembled a bit because a freeman who could make guards call him "SIR," and in such a clearly differential tone, was only someone who could alter his life in major ways and no changes had been good for him since he had become a prisoner.
"I have taken 897 and put him into the latrine, and 756 is to go with me to his trial."
"TRIAL!" Andrew thought. His confession was only a few minutes old. He remembered the old phrase that "Justice Delayed is Justice Denied." Andrew was pretty sure that instant justice was not too great of an idea either. Andrew however was not a party in the consideration of this issue. If his trial was ready to begin, Andrew would be there. Andrew's next thought that at present his total clothing was only his slave collar. That thought of his appearance like that in court was almost enough for him to smile, but he was already too well trained to betray a smile at ANY comment made by a free person.
Andrew felt his leash being transferred to the superior officer, and as he expected, he was pulled at a furious pace. He mentally thought that if these free men were smart, they would realize that he could travel more easily and satisfactorily if he were allowed to walk. But as his collar was choking him as he traveled as fast as hands and knees could take him, his comfort or even his ability to serve THEM was irrelevant. He existed only to serve. Andrew's mind went into its normal inner space when reality was too painful or ridiculous, and his present dash down a hallway was both. He began thinking of the pure lack of structural possibility that a human being could move quickly on hands and knees. Perhaps at some time in the evolution of man, crawling was a mode used for transportation, but adaptation had made crawling a very poor choice for speed.
Suddenly this dash came to an end, and Andrew waited, now panting as a dog, for his next involuntary return to primitiveness. However, when the door opened he was not pulled headlong but pulled slowly into this room and toward a wall. "NOSE AND TOES SHITHEAD" came the command. Immediately he rose and spread his hands out and made sure that his nose and toes all were firmly against the wall, but that the rest of his body did not touch.
"Here asshole. Put th1s on for court."
I turned and saw an old fashioned orange jump suit. It was not clean. Actually it looked as if its previous wearer had been in some sort of major fight, and lost badly. Andrew made no comment, but put his legs through the pants legs, and discovered itchy scaly patches down the inside of the legs. Andrew then knew that several persons who had worn this orange jumpsuit had ejaculated down the pants legs, and that having never been cleaned, his was to share in their contributions.
When Andrew pulled up the suit he found the inside to be dampish, and guessed that the poor person wearing this orange mark of shame previously had perspired enough to permeate the material. Now it was Andrew's turn to wear his orange jump suit of criminals into court.
"You may walk into court from here slime." Was the cold comment, followed by "Turn and follow." All he saw was the man's broad back as he now walked on two legs into the court to have his fate confirmed in response to his confession. As he moved to his moment in court, he noted that his body heat was at least making the inside of his orange badge of subservience less clammy on his bare skin.
In a few turns and hallways, Andrew arrived at a door. THE MAN turned and Andrew was amazed that he recognized the cold eyes staring at him. It was one of his students from only four or five years earlier. But those eyes staring at him gave him no comfort. They were the glaring eyes of an avenger.
"I see you recognize me" Shaun said. "I often wondered if you just did not care about the pain your put downs caused, or that you knew and enjoyed your power to make people cringe. I asked to escort you to your sentencing, and I truly hope you see justice for the pain you have caused."
Andrew did indeed begin to understand that comments he thought were clever and humorous, were actually cruel and harmful. He knew that the trial and verdict would begin to start erasing his debt of self absorption.
Andrew's hands were pulled down and securely handcuffed behind his back, and then Shaun opened the door and Andrew looked at a courtroom turning to look at him.
He saw the prosecutor and at least four more of his former students all looking at him with a decidedly smug look of revenge. One of them was Kevin, and the others included athletes that he had enjoyed "lowering their over inflated opinions of themselves." Andrew was quite sure that they would be prepared to swear whatever was necessary to convict him.
Shaun took a killer grip on his arm and led Andrew directly in front to the judge. It was Judge Van Matre, a bridge playing buddy of Andrew's However when Judge Van Matre glared down at Andrew from the bench, it was with contempt and loathing that showed Andrew no favortism would come from those lips.
"I am appalled by this confession, and from the deception that you perpetrated on your friends as you talked about the moral weaknesses of those who allowed drugs to dominate their lives. Now we see you to be the pompous bastard that many behind your back said you were." Judge Van Matre said solemnly – if the word "bastard" could be considered as ever possibly uttered solemnly.
"Do you deny any of this confession?" the Judge asked. "I see that the prosecutor has had you initial every page, but in open court, I want to hear you state that you have read this entire document and that you assert its accuracy."
Andrew thought "Now is my chance." Then he realized why those former students were there. If he recanted the confession, they would state he had also perverted their youth, and when Andrew glanced over to the prosecution table, Andrew recognized the boxes of his toys and his magazines, and Andrew knew he could not swear these items were not his, and three witnesses would be swearing he had coerced them into gay bondage and discipline and gay sexual acts. Those claims would seal his fate as securely as the drug confession. The result of Andrew's analysis of his situation resulted in Andrew's voice stating "Judge I read every page and every word, and by my initials I admit that all statements in the confession are true."
"The court having read this confession, and having it verified by the defendant, therefore sentences the defendant in penile servitude for life. The court further stipulates that the convict may be leased under provisions of Servitude Conditions 1. Court is in recess. Remove this convict from my sight." Judge Van Matre pounded the gavel, and turned away without another look at Andrew.
Shaun yanked Andrew's arms again and propelled him through the door he had entered only minutes before. But there was a difference. Now Andrew was a convicted criminal sentenced to a life of penile servitude. His life was now permanently on a different path than one he had been following only two days before. Once again Andrew ruminated on a crumpled sheet of paper, and a puerile desire to make some chain gang road slave get a punishment had changed his entire life. Andrew knew deep down that his selfish act to needlessly harm someone he felt beneath him was responsible for beginning this train of events that now made him equal to or probably below that chain gang prisoner slave.
Once through the door, Shaun smiled at Andrew. "Well I never expected that! We were expecting old Judge Van Matre to give you a Category 2 or 3 servitude order, but 1 is better than we ever expected. In case you don't keep up slave code (Not the proper term, but it is what everyone calls the laws that govern what a lease holder may use the leased prisoners and how severely they may be disciplined. The proper term for these laws is "Acts Governing the Proper Governance and Motivation of Prisoners on Long Term Lease Agreements," and under Category 1, your lease holder (owner) can make you do anything, can use any amount of corporal motivation and punishment, and if you happen to die under the whip, only a simple form is required which states that the prisoner died while serving as a Category 1 Convict, and that the Lease Holder had proper motivation to instigate the punishment, or require the Category 1 Convict to perform that task. Andrew your life will now be under the whip, in heavy chains, doing the shit jobs even other slaves can not be legally made to do."
Again Andrew got "THE SMILE." "ENJOY" was the last comment Shaun made as he allowed Andrew to be hauled rapidly down the hall to begin his new painful life.
Andrew followed in a true dream-like fog. He had expected that he would be a Category 3 or 4 and in his dreams a Category 5 convict. As Category 5 punishments had to be fairly light and work assignments were limited to more intellectual work than physical labor.
Shaun yelled, "Is the truck for the Slave Training Center still here? I want to get this pile of shit on it if possible. I want him to begin his new life immediately, and not just on the pansy jobs we have here." To Andrew licking toilets and butts was not a pansy job, but he was also sure he would soon learn the new level of jobs.
Another officer yelled back, "It's still here, and I radioed for it to wait." Andrew just followed his lead. Andrew was pulled at almost a run down the maze of hallways again, and finally he arrived at a familiar area, the room just inside the door to the loading dock. When Andrew and Shaun arrived in the room, there was a group of four guards waiting on their arrival.
"SIR we have news for you before you load this slaveboi on the truck SIR. Away from the court no one referred to prisoners as indentured or leased prisoners. Everyone called it as everyone saw it... These persons were slaves.
Andrew did his slaveboi behavior of standing and looking at the floor, and waiting what he would be told to do. He had mentally processed that he would never make decisions or have any input in his fate from the moment that the gavel fell moments before.
Chapter 9
You Can Go Home Again
Andrew concentrated on the concrete floor of the loading dock, and was just marginally aware of the animated conversations and the laughter that was coming from the group of guards. His resignation to his fate might have surprised, no absolutely amazed the Andrew of two days before. In Andrew's mind there seemed to be a continuous loop re-playing the moment he heard the words "...leased under provisions of Servitude Conditions 1." Andrew was actually a different person now, and would have looked with genuine horror and disgust at the self-centered inconsiderate supercilious Andrew of many years before. Looking at life from the bottom of the ladder does give perspective.
Now Andrew wished he would have lived his former life differently, but that of course was a fantasy wish. Now Andrew was trying to come to some degree of understanding about the enormity of the possibilities that would dominate the rest of his life. He could be ordered into dangerous work and given minimal safety protection. He could be punished in any way, for any reason, and for no reason. There was no Indentured Convict Authority (ICA) officer who would ever randomly check on whether this indentured convict was being treated under the restrictions of its classification. Andrew had no restrictions. Andrew suddenly felt a thought coming into his mind that surprised him, and in a sense calmed him. Andrew hoped that he would be put in danger, and that hopefully a quick death would follow. The idea of years of brutal treatment and continual degradation seemed worse than the relief that death would give him.
"Dreaming of the fun times ahead?" Shaun's menacing voice came behind his head. Andrew knew he had to respond to a question from a MASTER but could not tell the truth, and so opted "SIR just trying to imagine my future SIR."
"Well asswipe (Andrew inwardly smiled as indeed asswipe had been his most recent job.) I have good news for you." Andrew knew if Shaun thought it was good news that it would not be good for him.
"When notice was posted on the county's indentured servant register of your being a Category 1 servant, there was a lot of interest in buying your lease. It seems that many of your former students remember you well, and would love to return to you some of the joy they felt on your classes. The judge authorized an immediate auction, and I know you're going to be happy to know your lease has been purchased, and the lease owner has even waived your attendance at the training center. I believe your owner said he would be happy to give you a personal course in `PROPER SLAVE BEHAVIOR 101.' So, you will not be going on the truck to the center, but we will put you on a slave transport to your new owner, and you can be slaving away yet TODAY. Aren't you thrilled?"
Andrew could not decide if that question was rhetorical or not, but he was sure that whatever he decided would be considered the wrong answer, and so he tried a finesse. He nodded.
Shaun smiled that smile of the cat that has the mouse just where it can be pounced upon and eaten. "DO YOU CONSIDER A NOD AS A PROPER RESPONSE TO A MASTER'S OR FREE MAN'S QUESTION SLAVE?" Andrew bowed his head even more, and said as loudly as he felt it was safe to raise his voice to one of the millions of free men who were now superior to him. "SIR this slaveboi is very sorry that it did not respond properly, SIR. SIR please correct this slave so it can improve." Andrew almost did not know where this answer came from. Then he remembered seeing one of those documentaries on television that gave a sanitized version of slave (indentured convict) training at the Training Center, and he remembered thinking with a sneer that no real human would ask for punishment and act thankful to receive it. That piece of wisdom was now replaced by anther and that was that he hoped this subservient answer would make his punishment less severe. That Andrew would be punished was a given.
"Good answer shit head. There may be hope for you. Bend over and receive your reminder swats."
"SIR yes SIR" Andrew promptly replied.
Andrew turned and presented his ass to Shaun, and as so often happened to Andrew, he thought of the situation as funny. Instead of looking on his face, this superior god of his life instead was facing his naked ass. Andrew carefully kept his face immobile even though Shaun could not possible see it. A wise slaveboi knows that another free person could see his smile, and immediately inform Shaun that his slave was making fun of him, and Andrew could be certain that he would receive more and even more sever strokes of the punishment strap, which he could assume all free persons he would ever be around now would have at the ready to beat obedience into him.
"Count them out fuckwad" Shaun ordered. Andrew's mind again wondered as he mentally noted a new insulting term for slavebois. Perhaps Andrew would amuse himself by remembering all these terms, and alphabetize them in his head as a means of preserving some mental acuity.
This resolve ended in an extremely hard caress of a slave strap across his butt, but instead of screaming in pain, his brain did an over-ride and his verbal response was "One SIR, Thank you SIR, for helping this fuckwad receive instruction to improve its service, SIR. May this fuckwad receive another SIR?" Andrew again made a mental note to thank that PBS documentary for these phrases stored in his subconscious.
When Shaun got to ten, with Andrew's response remaining the same. At ten Shaun said, "I think ten will be enough. You will soon have to deal with your permanent MASTER, and I know he will want to introduce himself to your body in a memorable way."
Andrew's body was trying to adjust to its new reality. His body was still recovering from his punishment session and, miracle balm or not, his skin, his muscles and his mind were tender and traumatized by each stroke. Since Andrew had not received an order to move, he remained in position, and awaited his next order – still mooning the freemen standing behind him he mused to his amusement.
"On all fours." was his order, and Andrew immediately dropped down on his tenderized and bruised knees. Again his lead was brought taught, and led him off toward another direction. He did not know where, but he was moving down the concrete of the loading bay. After about twenty feet, he was brought to a choking stop. "STAY" was his order, and Andrew stayed exactly as he was when his forward motion stopped, and that was with one hand and one leg ahead of the others in preparation of making a step forward. There was a pause, and then in that smug voice Andrew had learned already to fear and to hate Shaun snarled, "You may think that you can fool all of us by this playacting of slave obedience, but your owner and many others will be around always to give you all the strokes to make you a true non-thinking whip-smart slave." Andrew hated that he was completely sure that the whip would erase his mind and instill a robot-like obedience and sub mentality that would turnoff his rational brain, just as Shaun said. Andrew again marveled at the fierce intellect that Shaun was showing. It was as if Shaun had a link into Andrew's brain. Andrew's second thought was that experience in breaking humans into slave animals allowed Shaun, and probably all who would now controlled his life to measure his progress to a whip-smart obedient and focused slave who would only think of its service to his owner and all free persons. Andrew found this thought both scary and comforting. Part of Andrew wanted to move into the mindless slave brain which he anticipated would make it easier to live his slave life.
Andrew kept his eyes focused on the concrete in front of him although he really wanted to look around. It was not too long until another set of shoes, not highly polished but scuffed and worn was in front of him. He felt his lead being handed off, and his head was again yanked forward, but this time toward to edge of the concrete, but at the end was a steel floor of a small van. The lead took him inside and there he saw four steel cages. The two on the top already had slave animals locked inside, and soon a hand appeared and opened the left cage's door, and Andrew moved toward it. "TURN ARONND AND BACK IN SHIT-FOR BRAINS" Again Andrew's brain wandered, and made a mental note that for some reason free persons seem to associate slaves with assholes and products associated with assholes. Andrew mused to himself that a study of terms used as generic names for slaves would be an interesting etymological treatise.
Andrew turned around without sharing his lexical insight with the freeman, to whom Andrew still felt intellectually superior, since it was clear that the driver was not blessed with either great intellect nor great education. Again slavedar seemed to communicate to the driver which amazed Andrew.
"You may think that you are some big important shit, and maybe you were before the collar came on, but now you are just another mindless slave." Andrew backed into the cage, and a hand came down and locked the cage door. Andrew did feel the humiliation of being caged like a dog.
As soon as the door was locked the driver commanded the slave above Andrew "Baptize this baby slave, turd head." Almost immediately Andrew felt warm and pungent slave piss flow over him from above, and then that stream was joined by another really rank explosion from the driver. "There, you are baptized, and remember slave, the free man you might once have been superior to is now able to piss all over you, and even give you punishment for not thanking me for the bath. Andrew started to begin his litany of "SIR thank you..." but was cut off by the curt command "SILECE."
"Put your front paws through the bars palm up." the driver ordered, and of course Andrew did as ordered. Down a slave strap came on this palms, and Andrew found another part of his body that had a rich supply of nerve endings to tell his brain about pain. Andrew wondered if he was to respond, but decided that his most recent command was silence, and so he concentrated mostly on keeping from screaming , and overcoming his brain's message to his hands to draw back from exposure to that pain giving piece of leather.
After five blows on that tender skin of his palms, Andrew's hands throbbed. "Keep a proper attitude slave or you are going to hurt until you learn your place." Andrew still followed the command for silence, and to his relief that decision seemed to be correct, and the driver retreated and slammed and locked the doors of the van and Andrew's journey to his slave home began.
Not much happened on the trip. When the van hit bumps, slaves were slammed into the cages' bars, as well as when the van stopped and started. It was not a comfortable trip for slaves, but looking out for slaves' comfort was simply such a preposterous idea that no one seemed interested in even considering it. There was a stop and the driver came around and unlocked the two top cages, and then attached a little ramp onto the top of Andrew's and the empty cage, and when the ramp was in front of the unlocked and opened door the stave hurried down the ramp, and then was ordered to stand and then step down off the van. The driver then locked the cage doors and also hopped off the back of the van and again it slammed shut.
The last part of the trip did not seem to last much longer after the other two slaves were delivered. Andrew felt the van come to a stop, and just barely heard some conversation before the van's door was again opened and Andrew could not keep from looking forward and out to see where he was fated to live. Andrew looked at a prison like series of razor wire and fifteen foot high fences, and in the distance prisoner slaves in steel collars and wrist and ankle shackles slaving away in a field with a guard on horseback watching them carefully. The gate set up reminded him of Kevin's farm he had visited just two days before. And Andrew wondered if all prisoner slave farms were required to have this sort of perimeter security. Andrew again mused that these prisoners probably dreamed of the good old days when they were stored in prisons and slept or socialized most of the day. Now they labored under the whip for at least a fourteen hour day. Today these thoughts were much more personal than his musings were two days ago. There is nothing like being a prisoner slave to change one's perspective.
The driver hopped up, and seemed to be even more jovial then before. As he unlocked Andrew's cage, he ordered "Hurry up asshole. You have a bunch of free men who want to welcome you to your new home!" Andrew again knew that this information could only mean pain and suffering, and as his lead was grabbed had he was ordered to stand and hop out he involuntarily stopped. A ready slave strap moved him forward and off the van and into the middle of the guards at the gate of Kevin's farm – THE FARM. He realized he was going to be a slave owned by Kevin, and now he was going to be a slave welcomed to slavery by the very guards he had insulted two days ago. "Shit" Andrew said to himself, giving into the terms most often applied to himself.
Andrew immediately dropped to all fours and his paperwork was completed, and involuntarily he shivered in fear. The hatred he felt coming from that circle of shoes and the man who wore the shoes was tangible.
The driver left and Andrew now found himself in the middle of this group of guards. He remembered just two days ago he had arrogantly insulted them and flaunted his superior station and intelligence. He took advantage of their limited vocabulary. Now Andrew was sure that paybacks were going to be hell.
The silence only served to increase his fear into the beginnings of terror. These men may not have had all his degrees and vocabulary, but they were experts in how to handle and to dominate a slaveboi, and right at this moment those skills were Andrew's biggest concern.
Finally a voice from behind him said quietly, menacingly, and angrily, "When we heard you were coming to join us here on the Farm we asked Master Kevin if we could not make sure you started your time here on THE FARM in a perfectly infandous way. Andrew knew that these men would make his life "too odious to mention." and he deeply regretted in retrospect his decision to mock them with this obscure word.
"We are going to play some slave games with you, you piece of crap." the voice informed Andrew now newly christened "piece of crap."
With slow cadence as one would talk to a child, menace mouth explained. "A slave must learn by feel the individual style of each of its immediate superiors, and so we are going to let you play and learn. The first round each of us will give you, shit head, a sample stroke of a slave strap, and then say the name the guard uses in dealing with the piece of crap brained slave. I will demonstrate. Andrew felt a vicious stroke across his thighs, just where his ass cheeks stopped and his leg began. "Infandous" is my name intoned the guard. Andrew did not move as no one had ordered him to move, but he saw that the circle of guards moved clockwise around him. Another blow came across his back, just where his butt began to bubble out, and Andrew marveled that there was a difference in how the blow was applied. "Striker" was the name of the second guard, and his stroke had a little extra tingle just at the tip of the strap. Around the circle went with guard's names of "Punisher, Enforcer, Beater," and "Motivator." Andrew was learning new skills that he would need in his new life, and he could indeed recognize that there were differences in each guard's stroke across all parts of his body. Some seemed to have a bit of an angle in the blow, either to the right or the left, and others were square on his body, but there was a variety of how long the strap remained motionless allowing Andrew's skin to absorb the pain, and other were quickly drawn away. Andrew was then blindfolded and the rain of blows began. He only got two right the first round, and he actually lost track of how many rounds made his body black and blue to achieve this skill.
After the guards were through with this game, Andrew's lead was re-attached, and he was told to stand on two legs. His hands were chained to his collar, and his lead handed up to "Infandous" who was mounted on a real horse. "Dog Shit keep your eyes on my magnificent stallion's tail, and you follow where it leads. If my stallion decides to defecate, you are required to pick up each horse apple and either stuff it up your slave butt or eat it. However in no way can these valuable pieces emanating from this valuable and noble animal be allowed to just lie unappreciated on the ground. Certainly this is true when there is a lower-the-horse-shit slave in tow to properly stow these gifts from a superior animal. Do you understand shit head?"
"SIR YES SIR," Andrew answered. Andrew again responded and offered a silent prayer that this stallion would not decide to share its essence with such a lowly slave as the former Andrew.
Andrew was indeed favored by some entity because as Andrew followed with his compete attention focused on the stallion's tail, and with true fear that the tail would rise and he would be required to stoop and stuff each horse dropping as he was pulled along in a slow gate by the rider.
Andrew was also relieved when horse rider and slave all passed Barn 6. However on the other side of Barn 6 Andrew's relief turned to fear as he found himself looking at the tail rising and a blacksmith's station both appearing at once to make him know that two things he feared, eating or stuffing horse shit, and having his collar, wrist, and ankle cuffs and chains permanently attached to his body, no not his any more, the slave body that belonged to MASTER KEVIN. Andrew stooped down and picked up the horse apples, and bending over while still walking, stuffed them up his butt hole. Andrew realized that his hands were now thoroughly covered with horse shit, but the fastidious Andrew that would have screamed at this situation was gone, and the Andrew that was thankful that it was his butt hole stuffed with horse shit and not his mouth was the slave following and concentrating on a horses ass. Andrew mused that stuffing horse shit up his ass perhaps turned him into a horse's ass himself.
The horse stopped, Andrew stopped, and the rider looked down at Andrew and then behind Andrew and nodded in acknowledgement that the guard knew his stallion had shit, and that there was no shit on the path. Then the guard dismounted, grabbed Andrew's lead, and Andrew followed into the blacksmith's to receive his slave clothes of collar, and ankle and wrist cuffs.
When they arrived at the forge, the guard turned to Andrew.
"Well professor" he sneered, "now I am going to give you an education in your new life. All slaves but one category get steel collars and snapped around their collars are plastic bands with different colors designated the category the slave is. Category 5 slaves have green bands; category 4 have brown; category 3 have yellow, and category 2 have red. But category 1 slaves get a black set of blackened steel collar, and wrist and ankles cuffs. Category 1 slaves can be differentiated at a distance, so a category 1 slave can always be used and disciplined easily."
Andrew knew not to look the guard in his face, and absorbed this information silently, although inwardly he again knew fear. His status as a slave that any free person could use with no restriction would be recognized easily, at a distance, and would make sure Andrew would always be a first choice for the worst assignments, and to receive a no-questions-asked punishment.
"Slave get your ass over to the blacksmith for him to give you your markings and your black steel clothes." the guard ordered. Andrew moved forward toward a giant man whose muscles rippled over his arms, legs and torso.
The blacksmith indicated where Andrew was to stand, and he went off, returning with his collars and cuffs.