Traditional Values
By Randall Austin
PART SEVENTEEN
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
Martin Forestman invited his brother Steven to dinner to try and get over the hard feelings each of them was having towards the other over Jason's criminal indenturement for unlocking Bradley's infibulation bar and ring. Neither one of them said very much over the dinner table, so after the meal Barbara, who often had a knack for saying and doing the wrong thing, for once did the right thing; she filled a carafe with red wine and gave it and two glasses to the brothers and told them to go into Martin's study and have a talk.
They sat on the couch in front of Martin's desk together and each of them drank their first glass of wine in silence. Martin reached over to his desk and turned a framed snapshot of his sons around so they could see it. Steven fumbled in his billfold and found a snapshot of his son, Jason, and placed it leaning against a coffee mug next to the picture of Martin's sons. They stared at the photos and sipped.
Martin refilled their glasses and spoke, "Good looking boys. All of `em. Damn good looking!" Steven complimented Martin by telling him that Bradley took after him in the looks department, and Martin reciprocated by telling Steven that Jason took after him. They were indeed two handsome brothers, who now found themselves in somewhat similar situations. Each had landed a very beautiful but somewhat dimwitted wife who was unable to offer them the sort of understanding and support that could ease them in this time of uncertainty as they tried to deal with recently indentured children.
Martin continued, "It's a crazy thing; you have these sons you think the world of, and then the next day you find them wearing collars, cock-locks, and training paddles, getting their asses spanked like school kids by some eight-dollar-an-hour high school dropout overseer." After a thoughtful pause and another sip, Martin added, "Not that there's anything wrong with that." Steven added that the experience would probably do all of them a world of good, and themselves included.
Martin had a suggestion. "Damian Appomattox, my Social Services contact person, is the chief placement officer for the criminally indentured at Social Services. While he tries to get top dollar for the county on the sale of criminal servants, he may not be aware that the Maple Valley Resort and Casino is looking for more roller boys'. It looks like my boys are going to end up there, and it would be nice if our boys could all serve together. The county social services department always tries to keep families together if possible, and Jason fills the bill in what Maple Valley is looking for in roller boys'; good looking guys with nice perky bubble butts." Martin smiled as he said "perky bubble butts".
"But isn't that going to be quite humiliating for the boys?" asked Steven.
"Why any more so than serving on road crews or the in the county janitorial department, or any of the other sorts of jobs that social servants often end up in?" Steven saw Martin's point, as Martin continued, "I mean, sure, the first time you go to Maple Valley Resort and Casino and see all those guys wearing ballet type tights that show off their large butts, a revealing shirt, their bellboy caps, and on roller skates speeding around the resort serving drinks, carrying bags, and waiting on clients. It's kind of amusing to us guys. But it is a marketing decision that paid off and made the Maple Valley Resort and Casino, Vermont's biggest tourist attraction. They did the opposite of what Las Vegas did, and it paid off so much that now Las Vegas is using males, not just scantily clad women, to help ensure that the gamblers return. The idea behind it is that when a guy suggests he wants to spend the weekend gambling, he will get his woman's support and approval. What woman doesn't want to be at a place where everywhere she looks there are cute guys with great smiles and asses, wearing tights?"
Steven asked Martin how he got the idea to have his boys sent to Maple Valley Resort. "They came to me. Bradley had a college friend by the name of Jeremy Rickers who came to our home once to visit Bradley. Jeremy's father, Andrew, who is head of personnel at Maple Valley Resort, happened to be scouting the auction houses for new roller boys, so Jeremy told him that Bradley's brothers had the necessary qualities. Well, because of my financial problems, when Maple Valley contacted me on my interest level I at first pondered social service as an option for Quince. But the more I thought about it I realized that for it to be fair, all of my boys had to be involved. And I believed then, as I do now, that it would be a good thing for all of them." Martin and Steven sipped their wine. "And now I am finally convinced that I indeed did make the right decision. And it feels good!"
Steven leaned his head against Martin's head, "That would be swell if you could contact that Appomattox fellow and see if Jason could be sold to Maple Valley Resort." They both swirled their glasses. Martin clarified, "I'm pretty sure I'm going with Maple Valley. I have some people coming to check the boys out in the weeks ahead who have beat Maple Valley's bid, but I really like the whole setup at Maple Valley, and am pretty sure I'll stay with them." Steven put his arm over his brother's shoulder, and said, "Maple Valley sounds good for Jason. It's also good for us too, since we both spend at least two weeks out of a year at the resort."
Both men nodded; they were clarifying issues and getting comfortable with each other once again. They continued sipping. Martin, gazing at the photos on the desk, asked quietly, "Did you know your son Jason was a homo?"
Steven, after a brief pause, answered, "I don't think he is, really. You know how those trainers are, the things they gotta do, and so on."
"Well you can keep your head in the sand if you want, Steven, but I think we need to face the fact that our boys are homos."
The men savored the wine. Steven started to say something, but stopped. They both continued drinking in silence. After an hour of quiet musing and chat Martin refilled the carafe.
Up in her room little Flora was checking a website for lonely heart social servants. It was a site where mainly servant boys and girls tried to connect with each other, but it was sprinkled here and there with free persons trying to connect with servants. Flora, for reasons she was unaware of, and having no interested in finding out why, found herself attracted to servant boys. As she learned more and more about social servants since her brothers' indenturement, she found herself attracted to boys who had to obey. In fact, the very idea that she could have a boyfriend who had to do what she told him to do made her mouth run dry. She found a Tim Witherspoon, 15 years old, one year older than herself, who said in his bio that he was lonely and looking for a partner to take to the `Obeyer's Ball', an annual festive event for social servants. Flora emailed Timothy. She then finished her session on the Internet as she always did, by checking the county social service's website for photos of the most recent, freshly processed, male social servants.
When Steven entered the kitchen to refill the carafe for a third time Barbara told him that it would be best if he didn't try to drive home in his condition. Steven only smiled at her and thanked her for the delicious dinner. When Steven reentered the study, he filled the glasses, and sat back down next to Martin. They each put an arm around the others' shoulder and leaned their heads back together.
Steven squeezed Martin's shoulder, "We were best buddies growing up. I always admired you. You were always on top of everything. You drove the chicks wild. You know that, don't you?"
Martin smiled and drank. Steven brought up the homo thing again, but with more of a slur to his speech than previously, "Hey Martin, our boys probably ain't homo's. Let's face it. You and I, we've done stuff and we ain't homos." He paused and smiled. Martin laughed. "Remember?" Asked Steven.
"Yeah, I remember", nodded Martin as he took a big sip. They rubbed their cheeks together affectionately and playfully, as only drunken brothers can.
When Barbara looked in on them later in the night both brothers still had one arm about the other, and had a glass of wine in their other hand. They were both sobbing and murmuring quietly. When Barbara suggested that they might want to lie down, Martin told her in a drunken, sobbing, slur, "This is my brother, Barbara. Isn't he beautiful? He's the best goddamn brother a guy could have." They both put their glasses down, hugged, and started crying, telling each other how much they loved each other and how beautiful and great the other was. Barbara left them, pleased that she had helped mend the rift.
Bradley's brothers were coming home on Monday, to stay for the two weeks before they were due to be delivered to Maple Resort and Casino. So Martin arranged for Hal Franklin, Bradley's trainer, to take Bradley, on Friday afternoon, to get hoop ringed.
Until Hal arrived, no one had mentioned hoop ringing recently, even though everyone, Bradley included, knew why Hal was coming to get Bradley. Hal greeted Martin, Barbara, and Bradley, and nodding at Bradley, asked the parents, "Has he been behaving?"
Martin was happy to answer, "In a super way! Thanks in large part to your work with him."
Hal was pleased with the compliment, "It will be an exciting time for you, Bradley, being together with your brothers again. That's why we need to get you hooped'. Bradley blushed at the thought of it. Hoop rings are to prevent social servant boys from getting sucked off by other servants. The implication that he and his brothers would be sucking each other off non-stop if they weren't pierced and fitted with giant 6-inch hoop rings at the end of their foreskins was embarrassing in the extreme to everyone in the Forestman family. That's why it wasn't talked about. Even though it had been explained that it was just a standard training procedure, that no one thought for a moment that Bradley and his brothers would ever even want to do such things, the idea of it turned Bradley red with shame. Even when he tried to comfort himself by thinking that he was just like the hundreds of other hoop-ringed servant boys he saw on inventory day', the idea of getting hoop ringed was still a difficult one to accept, especially in the setting of the very home with which he had spent his entire life with his parents, brothers, and sister.
Bradley had expected Hal would take him to some government social services clinic to get hoop ringed. So he was surprised when Hal drove up instead to `Get Poked', a local piercing and tattoo salon. Hal reached into the glove compartment and took out a social servant 6-inch hoop ring wrapped in clear plastic. When Bradley, surprised, asked, "Here?"
Hal explained that it was cheaper than a clinic. "Besides, it's a simple procedure. Guys get piercings all the time, it's not brain surgery."
The salon smelled faintly of patchouli. In the front room of the rather dingy office were seated and standing about 8 guys and gals chatting. All were of the punk, goth, hipster, rocker, variety. They noticed Bradley was a slave, but none of them made a deal out of it.
The owner of the salon, Chaz, was a 30 year old, tall, lean, hipster with a goatee and an ear piercing. He wore a black t-shirt with the word `Motherlode' printed on the front. On his left shoulder was tattooed an image of a pair of spread cunt lips. Hal spoke with Chaz, and Chaz invited Hal and Bradley into the back room. In the room there was a workstation next to a gurney. Chaz told Bradley to take his jumpsuit off and then to get up on the gurney. Bradley was hesitant because the door was open. Chaz thought Bradley was afraid of the piercing, "Don't be afraid. Guys get their dicks pierced here every day. It's what I do. I punch holes in people."
When Bradley was naked and seated on the gurney Chaz came up to him with a lightweight wire mesh head cage and put it over Bradley's head and locked it on about the neck. Chaz explained, "No offense dude, but I once had a slave bite me while I was trying to hoop ring him."
Hal explained that Bradley was not a slave, but a social servant. Chaz responded with a shake of the head and shrug of the shoulders. "Whatever."
As Chaz was getting out his tools the guys and gals from the entry room sauntered in. They were chatting with each other and Chaz, and Bradley knew that the folks who frequented piercing salons generally liked to watch each other get tattooed and pierced. Bradley was very embarrassed by their presence but was too shy to say anything. Anyway, there was too much commotion for his faint protests to Hal to be heard.
The guys and gals at the tattoo parlor were just the opposite of Bradley; they were very free. Free to lounge around and listen to music all day with their chicks, and free to engage their partners in sex at any time of the day. In fact, the very parlor Bradley found himself in was a testament to the rebel way of life. Getting tattooed and pierced were not only identity symbols; they were symbols of freedom and items of sexual fetish. Getting pierced to the folks who hung around Chaz's `Get Poked' parlor affirmed their life style and provided sexual stimulus. For the hipsters watching Bradley getting hoop ringed, piercings upped sexual arousal. Ironically, for Bradley the purpose of the piercing was the opposite; hoop rings were designed to frustrate sexual arousal and release.
Chaz approached Bradley sitting on the gurney and gently slapped his legs apart, "Spread `em wide". He grabbed Bradley's penis to check out how much foreskin Bradley had in front of his infibulation bar and ring. He tugged on the foreskin, and marked with a pen that part of the skin he would pierce. Chaz spoke to Bradley, "Getting hooped. So, I take it you're moving in with a bunch of other servants." Hal explained that his brothers were moving in with him, and they all were social servants.
Chaz shared his knowledge, "My best friend's dad works with social servants all the time and he says if you got more than one of them together in close quarters you've got to lock up their genitals. He says that social servants basically act like animals if their cocks and clits aren't locked up. I guess it's because servants know that everyone thinks of them as trash, so after awhile they just let go and say `fuck it' to normal behavior. I hear if you get a group of them together in a pen they just nibble away non-stop at each others' dicks, like pigs in a pen."
Bradley was finally insulted enough and protested to Chaz about all the people present. Chaz replied, "Wow, a real uppity slave! I'm sorry dude, I wasn't told you wanted this to be a private session. You should have told me before I began. I can't leave the procedure now that it's in progress. Besides, it'll be over in a couple of minutes."
Hal put his arms on Bradley's shoulders, and in the gentle tone a parent would use to comfort a six year old child whose dog had just died, Hal tried to soothe Bradley, "There, there, Bradley. The man is almost finished with you. Everything is going to be all right. Remember, it's okay. You're a social servant now. Everything is okay. Remember all those boys you told me about at `inventory day'. You're just like them now. You should be proud of your bright, shiny, hoop ring. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You need to be proud of yourself at all times. There is nothing wrong about being on display for free folks. You are a going to be a wonderful, hard working, social servant someday, and everyone appreciates you and respects you for that fact."
Most of the guys and gals in the room were embarrassed for Bradley, but tried to show that they thought it was no big deal being naked, head-caged, and getting hoop ringed in front of everyone by smiling at Bradley and nodding their heads in agreement with everything Hal said.
Hal continued, "See all the nice folks here. They don't look down on you. And they're free kids, so it's okay if they see you naked. You just sit still here while the nice man finishes hooping you."
The actual pain of the piercing was almost nothing to Bradley compared with the pain of his embarrassment. When Chaz was finished he asked the red-faced Bradley to stand up and walk around a bit so he could make sure the piercing was in a good place and the foreskin could hold the weight of the hoop ring. Bradley stood with his head down and walked to one corner of the room and back again, with his legs spread wide because of the training paddles on his ankles. As he walked every free person in the room watched Bradley's giant hoop ring hanging off from his dick, swinging between his legs. A friend of Chaz's said, "It looks good, Chaz." Another said, "Good job, Chaz!"
Chaz agreed. He tugged slightly on the ring and Bradley winced in pain, "Sorry dude, just making sure nothing's going to give. It'll be a sore for a few days. Keep it clean." Hal started to pay Chaz for the job, and Bradley asked if he could get dressed. Hal Okayed it, and everyone in the room watched Bradley get into his one-piece jump suit with buttons down the side. Putting on a one piece, button-down-the-sides, jumpsuit, especially while fitted with a head cage, is a show in itself, and Bradley felt as if he was some alien creature on display to all of the other human beings in the room who watched him button up his jumpsuit in silence. Chaz unlocked and removed Bradley's head cage and quickly moved away from him.
When Bradley got into the car, he broke down and started to cry. Hal was annoyed, "Why are you crying now?" Bradley answered that he felt like shit, and that life wasn't fair. Hal knew he had to be firm and at the same time affirm Bradley's worth. "All right Bradley, you stop that crying this instant, or I'll give you a good face slapping for starters!" As they drove home Hal could hear Bradley having trouble controlling his crying. When they got home, Hal told Martin he needed to spend some time with Bradley to work on an attitude problem.
Hal took Bradley to his room, shut the door, and told him to stop sniveling. Bradley tried to stop, but he couldn't and his crying came out in heaves. Hal grabbed him by the shoulders and spoke plainly, "You are a beautiful servant boy. Do you hear me?" Bradley couldn't stop sobbing and didn't answer Hal. Hal took his right hand and gave Bradley an unexpected and very hard face slap. Bradley screamed and started crying loudly. "I said stop that crying!" Bradley couldn't and Hal gave him another slap. After a brief pause Hal followed it with another slap to the other cheek. Bradley's somewhat high pitched and noisy scream could be heard by his parents.
Hal knew there was one good and sure way to stop thoughts of self-pity in a social servant. As he stood in front of Bradley, who was cowering to avoid another slap, Hal undid the crotch buttons of Bradley's jump suit. Hal pulled out Bradley's cock with the big hoop ring, and pulled the balls all the way out as well. He cupped Bradley's balls and made sure he had all of Bradley's ball sack in his large hand. He slowly, at first, started squeezing Bradley's sack. When Bradley shouted "No", Hal gave the entire bag a hard and tight squeeze. Bradley yelped and starting falling to the floor even as Hal was still squeezing his ball sack. Bradley fell to the floor on his knees and arms, and did a dry retching, followed by empty heaves. He spread his legs apart as wide as they would go and moaned and moaned.
Hal sat on the bed and watched Bradley crawl around on the floor, heaving and moaning. After about 10 minutes Bradley began to recover. Hal patted him on the back, "I'm sorry I had to do that. But look, you forgot all about whatever nonsense got into your head over at the parlor. Why don't you get up and come and sit next to me." Bradley did as ordered, and Hal put his arm around his shoulders. "Bradley, you are such a nice boy, and you are so precious. When you're around free boys you can't pay any attention to what they're talking about. None of the guys and the gals had any negative things to say about you. Chaz was saying a few things out of ignorance, but it's typical of the nonsense free people say who aren't used to being around social servants." Hal gave a pause, then asked, "Now, I know a lot more about social servants than Chaz does, don't I?"
Bradley nodded yes'. Hal continued, "So you agree with me! Now if I know more about servants than Chaz does, and if I say you are a wonderful human being who happens to be one of the best looking and nicest social servants I have ever met, then what I say must be a hell of lot more correct than what Chaz says, right?" Bradley smiled. "So then why on earth would you ever pay attention to what some ignorant punk hipster has to say about servitude before you would listen to me? You need to realize that what I say is true. You need to be proud of yourself! Very proud! And don't be ashamed of yourself or embarrassed because I had to give you a face slapping and a squeezing' just now to get you back on track."
"Remember what you learned; there are hundreds of boys just like you throughout the city right now who are being disciplined just the way you were. And they aren't being disciplined because they are evil or worthless human beings. No way! Did you think those hundreds of nice boys you met at `inventory day' were worthless or evil people? Did you think any of the overseers, officials, and trainers at inventory day thought you boys were evil or worthless? Of course they didn't, and you know it! I didn't just face slap and ball squeeze you right now because I thought you were worthless and evil. Just the opposite is true; I consider you a very special person, and the punishment I just gave you was out of my love for you. Social servants simply get punished as part of their ongoing training on a regular basis, to remind them of just how wonderful and important they are! There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."
Bradley smiled, and thanked Hal. Hal embraced him. During the embrace Bradley's cock wanted to erect. Bradley wanted Hal to make love to him. He wanted to see Hal naked, to see Hal's penis and balls. He wished he could just take Hal's cock and balls out of his trousers the way Hal had done to him. He couldn't. All he could do was squeeze Hal very tightly as they hugged, suck in his fragrance, and try to win Hal's approval by being a well-behaved, quick stepping, and obedient social servant.