In the new America, 18-year-old boys can be enslaved. Therefore, the government has introduced a class for 16-year-old boys to learn about indenture. These boys cannot be used for actual sex, but they can be ogled, prodded, examined, or fondled. In later chapters, the age of indenture is lowered, the teacher owns one of his former students as a slaveboy, and there is actual oral and anal sex between them.

Understanding Modern Indenture Class by Master Redbeard r=e=d=b=e=a=r=d=e=d=s=f at y+a+h+o+o dot com.

This is an erotic man/teen story. If that offends you or you're breaking some law by reading it, go away now. Also, if you have trouble telling fantasy from reality, please stop reading this, go away and get help.

It is also a gay slaveboy story, set in a society in which cute young men are sold to be pleasure slaves. There is dominance/submission, bondage/discipline, enforced nudity, and boy humiliation. It's set in a future world where enslavement of good looking young men is standard and older men dominate.

This is also a political satire. Is our world headed for a time when good-looking young people are considered commodities and merchandise to be monetized? Or are we already in that world?

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THE SETUP:

The government of the Great North Plains Federation of States profits from selling the best looking and most athletic 18-year-old boys as pleasure slaves. To help ease and encourage this transition for the most desirable teenage boys, schools offer Understanding Modern Indenture Classes in their junior year of high school.

In this story we hear from one of the first UMI instructors. He developed curriculum with the assistance of the Institute for Slave Management, and works cooperatively with local slave dealers and trainers. In this story he speaks frankly about the history and practices of his class, as well as the outcomes for certain boys. As the year progresses there are unexpected surprises that have a big impact on him and on the boys in his class.

Our esteemed educator likes to say: "I will not have sex with any student. I could never break the law in that way. I can however strip, ogle, and feel up a good looking boy, in the interest of his education."

I welcome other authors who want to write stories set in the Understanding Modern Indenture universe.

DONATE TO NIFTY! KEEP THESE STORIES COMING! (Hey, guys, seriously -- I wouldn't have written this story if Nifty didn't exist to publish it!)

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As told by the esteemed Dr. Franklin Handleypioneer in the curriculum for Understanding Modern Indenture and friend to the Slave Trading Industry

CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION OF UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE

I've been teaching Understanding Modern Indenture classes ever since they were first introduced in our Great North Plains high schools. For the past 15 years I've taught three sections of High School Civics during the week. On Saturdays I teach a day-long workshop for 16-year-old boys to learn about our modern system of indenture.

This last year I began with 18 boys in my UMI class. They were the best looking young bucks in their junior year of our school (with a few older sophomores for good measure). Though there was a variety of body types -- from football players to gymnasts -- all of them had tight, fat-free bodies, with flat tummies and nicely-curved butts. Since this program began, those are the boys who've been assigned to take UMI.

I actually started as a Civics teacher almost 30 years ago. At that time the legislature had just passed the Enslavement Laws, with wide public support. The idea was that criminals should not be a drain on society's finances. Having them serve as slaves, they would be earning their keep as well as bringing profits to our government. I remember the first time one of our then-current students got enslaved. He was a senior, a boy who was often in trouble at school. I took my Civics students to watch this young buck being packed into a cage for shipment to Eureka (that was before I started teaching UMI).

The year after that a very different kind of boy got indentured. Robbie was president of our student body and captain of our baseball team. He was a scout who volunteered for charitable causes. But he got drunk one night and ran his car into a tree. The boy who was in the car with him lost a leg. So Robbie was indentured for life and everyone was shocked. When they decided to sell the boy locally because of his fame in the community, of course there was a big crowd to watch Robbie's auction. He shivered up there, stripped to his free boy underpants, hands cuffed to his metal collar. The auctioneer kept showing off Robbie's best features, repeatedly tugging down Robbie's briefs to reveal his perfect little bubble butt. Robbie was sold to a little rinkydink boy brothel in Capitol City. Don't know what happened to him after that. It's a shame he ended that way, he had so much potential.

It took some people a few years to get used to this new arrangement. But soon it became part of the fabric of our society. In the first few years of having indentured servants, men might have been coy about the subject of using slaveboys for sexual release. But soon enough, men were just winking at each other and it was all understood. Some of our more enterprising local dads would sometimes bring their sons to the swimming pool in the Gaytown section of Capitol City. They would buy drinks for the gays and talk about when their sons would turn 18 and be legal for sale. Some would ask frankly about value assessments for their boys. For some families, the values of their progeny were so low, it just wasn't worth it to indenture those boys.

Then, after everyone had gotten used to the way things worked, the legislature revisited the Enslavement Laws about ten years later and changed them to the Indenture Laws -- they determined that the word "Indenture" had fewer negative connotations than enslavement. They wanted to make indenture a more attractive option for middle class families. Remember, if your son was convicted of a crime and sentenced to lifetime indenture, your family would be destitute because you would have to pay court expenses. But if you signed up your son for a voluntary indenture, you and your family could earn a lot of money.

At that time there was talk about expanding the laws to include indenture for those in debt. The way it worked in fact was that families with debts would sell their sons into indenture. By the time the legislation passed, families didn't even need to be in debt -- any father had the right to sell his son into voluntary indenture. (The boy may not have been volunteering, but the family was volunteering him on their behalf.) A family could profit handsomely from sending a good looking son into service for a five year contract, even more for a ten-year contract.

But after that went into effect, they found the young bucks being indentured were often malnourished, with poor hygiene, the offspring from the lowest rungs of society. There was still resistance from a lot of middle class families who feared that turning their sons into indentured servants would make them appear needy or desperate for money. The government's ad campaign was designed to combat those fears.

The advertisements originally featured the Nash family (though many other families have done testimonials since that time). They were real people who lived in one of our territory's largest cities, and they had a big, beautiful home, so clearly they had money. Mrs. Nash showed a picture of their older son, Alex, and told the camera what a bright and good looking boy he had been. Alex was one of the few in our part of the continent to be accepted into a college. But right before he was to start classes, he got a younger girl pregnant. Premarital sex was a serious crime where we lived, and an 18-year-old boy having sex with a 16-year-old girl was a very serious offense. Of course Alex became an indentured servant. By the time the mother finished telling this story, she was on the verge of tears.

Then the father showed a picture of their second son, Billy, a very cute boy who'd just turned 18. He told how scared the family was for Billy after his older brother was enslaved. "How can you keep a boy safe during the dangerous years?" he asked the camera. Then some big doctor was on the screen explaining how the years from 16-24 were the most dangerous years, a time when young men took too many risks. He put it in all sorts of psychological and medical terms, but essentially it's the time in life when a guy is ruled more by his dick than by his brains.

Mr. Nash came back on the screen, his wife at his side, saying, "How can we protect our son during the dangerous years?" Then you see the younger son, Billy, come out in a slave collar and slave shorts, his wrists cuffed to the D-rings on his collar. His body was hairless and glistening. It's the same cute boy seen in the photograph at the beginning of the commercial, but now he was flanked by two heavy set middle aged men who smiled at the camera and said, "And he's been sold to us in Eureka."

Back to the Nashes and dad was clearly reading from a teleprompter saying, "It brings money into our home, gets young Billy started for his future, and it keeps Billy locked up and under control during these dangerous years." His wife waved a flag and added, "And it helps our economy." So now the government had made it clear that signing up your son for indenture was the patriotic thing to do. Families that had more than one son were encouraged to indenture one of them. A favorite phrase became, "Send the cute one to Eureka, so you can send the smart one to college."

The public caught on surprisingly fast. We are a confederation of nation-states here in the Great North Plains. Some have large land areas, but all have small populations and a lot of open space. Except for the industrial use slaves (as I said, the older, the uglier), there hadn't been a lot of personal service slaves where we lived. But they were becoming more commonplace. Of course any resort or hotel would be staffed by slaveboys. And of course these slaveboys were available for personal services with any hotel guest, for an additional hefty fee.

I visited my supermarket and they had switched to three new bagboys, each one stripped to slave collars and slave shorts. As you might expect, I recognized all three of these young bucks as my former students. I was most surprised to see Tommy, a redheaded boy who had been in UMI class less than two years earlier. Tommy's father was manager of this supermarket.

The older man explained to me that the corporation that owned this chain of markets had given him funding to purchase three slaveboys as an experiment. He chose to purchase his own son with that corporate money. I quietly reminded him that the government was cracking down on "sham enslavements," where a relative would take ownership of a slaveboy and let the young buck live a free life. The supermarket manager assured me that was not happening with Tommy. He confided in me that he himself had broken in his redheaded son for sex. Then he told me that all three of the bagboys were available for rental after the supermarket closed. He said that because I had done such a wonderful job preparing Tommy for his role as a slaveboy, he wanted me to have a freebie with the boy. I took him up on the offer and found that Tommy was an enthusiastic sex partner, eager to please.

Six months later, the supermarket chain decided they would maximize income from their slaveboy staff if they rotated the boys between stores. So Tommy and the others were shipped off to some other location, and our local market received three beauties from the Helena store. Although the manager offered me a free session with any of the new boys, I demurred.

While there were more slaveboys being used locally, the big money came in trading with the Gay State of Eureka. Eureka was a wealthy nation, where education and entrepreneurship were valued. And they were the ideal trading partner for our barren region. By that time, most of our natural resources had been sucked dry so the best money we could get was by exporting our good looking boys.

The message to moms and dads out there (but mostly to dads since we lived in a totally patriarchal country): After a five-year stint as a Personal Services Indentured Servant, your family will have enough money for a new car, your freed son will have enough money to go to school or start a business, and you will have contributed to the financial growth of the Great North Plains Federation of States. In short, we were all told to "Sell Your Sons to Contribute to the GNP."

CHAPTER 2: CURRICULUM FROM THE INSTITUTE OF SLAVE MANAGEMENT

We are the only high school in our nation-state, though there are smaller K-8 schools scattered about. There is one small college for four nation-states, and various trade schools. With so much land but so little population, some of our students board with local families during the week, and return to help on their family's property over the weekend. Since UMI class was held on Saturdays, these boys could only visit home on Sundays, so families were compensated with some money for their boy's time. It may seem altruistic on the part of our institute, but we want the parents to start thinking of their sons as something easily monetized.

That's now become a totally accepted idea: That your son is a commodity -- a commodity that could be of profit to you as a parent. Also that there are people on the coasts of our country who might pay a lot of money (well, it was a lot of money in our local economy) for five years of using the boy. Or to put that in a way local dads liked to say to each other: The Sphincter is a Very Resilient Muscle.

On top of all that, your son will come back after the five years as a disciplined, focused young man with a fit well-muscled body, and an understanding of hard work. Of course, not all boys returned at the end of their five year indenture. Soon after the advertising campaign began, the father of our school's top jock sold his son as a slave in Eureka. The boy was proud of the sacrifice he was making for his family and community, and assured his friends he would see them in five years' time. But four years into the boy's term of service, the father had a stroke and was hospitalized. Since the father remained in a coma, the slaveboy's 20-year-old younger brother was in charge of the family. That former school jock became a lifetime indenture and never returned to our area.

Another story happened more recently and received a lot of press. One of our local boys from Eureka, who was at the end of his five year indenture, made a video at the instruction of his owner. The owner wanted this documentation about the boy's decision to remain an indentured servant for life. He wanted proof that the boy was not coerced into this decision. The boy explained to the camera that he had chosen not to return to the Great North Plains. He said he would rather live in Eureka as a slaveboy, than go back to our desolate countryside as a free man. At age 23, he was requesting lifetime indenture, and the profits from his sale would go to his family.

Although that boy spoke ill of our federation of states, the government promoted his video. It was in our interest to have good looking, athletic teenage boys willing to be enslaved for profit, and willing to be shipped off to an entirely gay nation where they would serve as pleasure slaves for the men. This boy in the video spoke glowingly of life in Eureka, the fresh food, the beautiful cities and lush parks. Many boys had less resistance to being enslaved that year due to this publicity.

The reason indenture advertisements were aimed at the parents was because, in our part of the continent, fathers still claimed ownership over their sons till the boys turned 21. Some boys could earn manhood earlier if they earned a certain amount of money. But there were few jobs where we lived, besides shoveling snow or dirt (a local joke). Boys 18-21 were a target for slavers.

Did I say that the institute that funds my Saturday program is the Institute for Slave Management (called ISM)? The idea was to teach teenage boys all about the slave processing, slave management, and slave training industries. They first tried instituting "Indenture Education" into every grade level, but that failed. Eventually they settled on a plan to teach a special Saturday program to 16-year-old boys, and I've been head of that program in our school since it began.

UMI classes aren't designed for the brutish boys who will end up in a quarry or on a coffle, those boys will be whip-trained in chains. The classes I teach are for the boys who will end up in Personal Services, the boys with cute faces and hard bodies. The thing that every adult male knows (and undoubtedly quite a few teenaged boys know as well) is that Personal Services include sexual services. But that was never explicitly discussed. As a UMI teacher, you would divert questions from younger boys by saying something like, "Well, you may as well ask what if your owner wanted you to wash him in the shower? You may think that's icky, but as a slaveboy you must do what your owner commands." Most of our students were not great intellects, and this answer suited them.

When I was a guest speaker at a sixth grade classroom, a boy in the room asked the question, "When the gays in Eureka buy my brother will they put stuff up his butt?"

First, I admonished the boy and made clear that "up his butt" was not appropriate classroom language. Then I asked the class who did the cleaning in their houses; the answer was always the mother or some woman. So I told the class that since the gays didn't have wives to cook and clean and do things for them, they used slaveboys instead. And since gays enjoyed looking at other males, they enjoyed having a good looking young buck to look at. These students were easily distracted because most of the boys in that class said they wanted to be slave cops, with the weapons and the tight, black uniforms. Many other boys would ask about the slave marketing or training industries. How well did you have to do in school to get a job? How much money would they make?

I'd always scan a class like that for potential. The boy who had asked the bold question came up to me afterwards and tried to apologize, looking down at his feet. He said he felt real bad after his brother left for indenture. I told him to buck up and assured him that his brother made a wise and patriotic choice. I took the boy's name and put it in my records. Sure enough, four years later he was in my Understanding Modern Indenture program.

A few years after that when I was taking my vacation in the Gay State of Eureka, I found that same boy in one of the finest boy brothels in Monterey. Because of my affiliation with ISM, and my role in identifying potential slaveboys for the industry, I always got free service at these places. But this was special. A full night with one of their hottest new commodities.

I actually had a romantic night with that boy. I snuggled him and smooched with him, while we played with each other's erections. Then, as I remember, his hard body made me feel especially passionate, I tossed him on the bed and fucked him hard and deep. I dripped sweat on him, holding him down under me. Damn. That's the same ass that once sat on a chair in my classroom. Now I was ramming that fine round butt until I collapsed on top of him, grunting and sweating like an animal. I made him lick up my sweat before I permitted him to wash me in the shower.

So I am an aficionado of the pleasures a slaveboy can offer. I've sampled those pleasures, always in a legal way (as with my visits to Eureka). While there is an element of eroticism in the UMI class setting, I would never break my oath as an educator. I will not have sex with any student. I would never break the law in that way. I can however strip, ogle, and feel up a good looking boy, all in the interest of his education.

CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS

The first and foremost purpose of the Understanding Modern Indenture program is to give teenage boys a better understanding of the slave industry -- an industry so vital to our economy. But the true origins of this curriculum came after many of the straight teen boys who were first indentured in the early years put up too much resistance to their owners' demands. My class was set up to get those boys more open to the idea of serving as slaveboys, being humiliated, kept naked and being ordered around by an older man. As their teacher, that was my role.

Part of that understanding of the slave experience involves the boys emulating the lifestyle and activities of an indentured servant. This was initiated to help transition certain boys into the reality of what an indentured boy's life would be like -- a bit sugarcoated and vague at times, but boys who went through UMI training had less than 25% of the discipline punishments of boys who went into enslavement raw.

The program was popular among the parents. Every parent had at least made inquiries into their son's merchandising potential, and what the family could do to raise their son's value on the market. But the idea of indenture wasn't ever popular with teenage boys. They didn't want to give up their freedom. They didn't want to do heavy labor. And most of them insisted they didn't want to do whatever it was those gays in Eureka would want them to do (which may well have been true for a few of them). There was no sex education in the Great North Plains. That was left to parents and church. And young people caught talking dirty, or talking about sex with each other were severely punished.

However, Understanding Modern Indenture programs were different. We were in an enclosed space with these boys, introducing them to most aspects of a slaveboy's life. The boys would experience and view nudity and erections. At the same time, parents were fighting to get their sons into the Understanding Modern Indenture program. It meant potential big bucks for them down the road. The men in our local Slave Traders' Association always took an interest in the selection of boys. Some contribute to my files. A man may tell me about a freshman boy he saw at a swim meet. I'll file the name and keep track as the lad edges toward UMI age.

The first day of class, I always let the boys stand outside the building waiting for me, even though they can see me at a distance. I want to see if any boy calls out to me or approaches me about getting into the building. Nobody came forward from this new class. They were at least clever enough not to trip up over the most obvious set up.

I strode forward between them and unlocked the door, but then I stood blocking the doorway. I looked over the group and then said, "Good morning, gentlemen. I appreciate you all being here. As you know, there will be sanctions against any family whose son does not complete this program." Then I quietly continued, "Before we enter this building and get on with our work, does anyone have any questions?"

The smart ass with the first question was Tino, a boy with a narrow face, sharp features, dark hair and dark eyes, half-Latino, half-Italian. He raised his hand right away and asked, "Sir, can you tell me why this group of guys was picked? Was it because we've got good bodies, so we'll fetch a good price as slaveboys?"

I smiled when I replied, "First, the word is not slaveboys, it is indentured servants or indentures." I paused and looked at the entire group gathered and said, "First I want to ask: How many of you have seen what slave cops look like and what their bodies are like? Some of you are athletes on different school sports. You could have bodies like those slave cops with a few more years of training. How many of you want to be slave cops?" Of course there was a roar from the group of boys. All boys from a certain age onward dream of wearing the skin tight black uniforms, and having cool gadgets and hard muscles like slavecops. To tell the truth, my UMI class has produced a few slavecops over the years, but a much larger number of slaveboys.

But then, to win their trust, I was direct with the boys in my class: "Will some of you fine young bucks become slaveboys? Well, look at statistics. Likelihood is, even if this class didn't exist, 60 percent of the boys in this particular group would be indentured." The reason the percentage is so high for my particular program is that we've pre-selected boys who would bring in the highest prices on the market. Therefore these were the families who'd be most interested in striking a good deal for their young assets.

The next boy to speak was Chuck, a rambunctious boy with reddish-brown hair and a few freckles. He wore baggy clothes and didn't do sports, but you could just tell he was fit. He was a skateboarder and all the girls thought he was "dreamy" in a brooding kind of way. "So, sir, are we gonna get..." Chuck was drown out by laughter around him. "I'm sorry, sir," Chuck said in an off-hand way. "I really wanna ask... are gays gonna do sex with us up the... um, up the rear end?"

I let the group of boys laugh itself out before they began coming to attention. I had my arms folded and remained silent, although smiling indulgently, and I waited till enough boys noticed to make the others take note and quiet down. When they were all still and attentive, I stepped forward and kept smiling as I said, "You may be wondering why your instructor for Understanding Modern Indenture, the man who will teach you the ins and outs of the indenture industry, and take you through emulations of slave experiences... You may wonder why I am speaking to you in such a quiet, understanding voice. Well, out here I'm Mr. Handley and you are my students."

Then I stood to my full height and in a powerful voice I said, "But once this door is opened. You are playing the role of slaveboys. You were given your rights and restrictions in the manual a month ago." (I knew full well none of my students' families read anything that was sent home.

I rattled off a few of the more important restrictions on what we could do with the boys: They couldn't be kept naked. They could be seen, examined, or observed naked, but could not spend a day or a work session fully nude. Also, there would be no sex inside our program. I would clarify for the boys that "Sex" is only sex if a penis goes into a warm orifice on the body of another, meaning a pussy of some kind. Y'know, the GOB Definition -- Good Old Bill.

Boys who were selected for UMI class had to attend the program, though the parents were not obligated to sell their sons as slaveboys in the future. If a boy cuts class, the cops would come after him. If a boy leaves the program, the cops would come after the family.

That first morning I started off by speaking calmly and pleasantly to this group of fine young bucks, outside of our building. But I made clear that once the door was opened they would abide by the rules of their slave-trainee contracts, signed by their fathers. Those rules meant that the boy could be spoken to, used and treated as a slaveboy, within certain restrictions set forth by the state. As far as I know, no boy has lost his butt cherry while in my program.

I opened the door and roared, "Get your asses in there and line up on the long yellow line, toes on the line, legs shoulder-width, hands held behind your backs. And you will be looking down at the floor? Am I understood." There was a jumble of, "Sir, yes sir," in reply.

I entered and saw the line up of boys in their shabby looking clothes, ill-fitting jeans, sloppy t-shirts on their unwashed bodies. None of them were standing up straight and a few of them weren't even toes on the line. I came in and walked up and down along the line of boys and began shouting at them about punishment for the entire group because not all of them could work together to fulfill their Boss's request.

I should clarify. Once inside the building I was addressed as "Boss." I wasn't permitted to call the boys "Slaves," so it was agreed they'd be called "Boy," so my class included BoyConnor, BoyChuck, BoyTino and more. I nodded my head toward mesh bags in front of each of them and I said, "Each one of you will strip down to your underpants. Nothing else but underpants. I don't care if that's a jockstrap or swimsuit or briefs or boxers or a mix of them all." I stopped short when one boy reached for the hem of his T-shirt. I glared at him as I snapped, "You were not told to strip down, boy. You do what the boss tells you and not whatever the hell you feel like doing, whenever the hell you feel like doing it."

"Sorry, sir," the boy said, looking down meekly at the floor as he took a step backwards.

"Now, strip down, boys," As I announced that I punched a clock that started up smaller clocks on the long table in front of these boys. "You have one minute to complete stripping down to underpants and putting all your clothing including shoes into these bags. These clocks will keep track of how many seconds you go beyond that allotted minute." They were already frantically tugging off clothes, bumping into each other, a few of them falling over. Only 6 of the 18 boys in the room finished on time. I grinned and reminded them that I had a record of the number of seconds it took each of them to strip and they would be made to pay.

Stripped to underpants, these high school boys looked just as ragged. On some of these boys, I had already seen a strip of their underwear waistband above their sagging jeans. On others I had just guessed. Chuck, who wore loose-fitting clothes was wearing the baggiest boxers. I only saw two boys in the room wearing white briefs, one of them was Lars, the slender lemon blond boy. Connor, our football captain, was in black boxer-briefs with a white waistband. Seeing this young athlete dressed like that fulfilled so many masturbatory fantasies I'd had. His chest was so perfectly defined, his arms had finely formed muscles, not yet over muscled. As a freshmen, he had been taller than all the other boys, he was also the most athletic big guy at the school. I'd seen Collin's ass in football pants, and his shoulders and legs in his track uniform, but seeing this boy in such tight black underpants gave my dick a jolt.

I began lecturing the boys: Many years ago, when the UMI program was started, boys were given slave shorts. Parents were upset. Part of my program has these trainee boys do projects in the town, laboring in public, and parents didn't want their free boy sons to be seen publicly in slave shorts. Of course slaveboys being kept naked is totally acceptable in the community. But these were students, not slaveboys. We couldn't have the free boys of a town going around naked on Saturdays. And yet these boys were supposed to be experiencing some of the embarrassment and humiliation in being a slaveboy.

Early on in the program, I suggested we have boys wear only their own underpants in UMI class. We wanted the boys to learn humility in public, and this seemed a fair option. That was at a time when all boys at the high school wore the same brand of white briefs, before we got the variety we have now. But in recent years, boys started buying nicer-looking boxer shorts, or wearing their dad's big ones, to cover up in UMI class. So all boys were now given white briefs to wear in class, a style associated with younger boys, and always a size too small.

I handed out appropriate underpants to each boy and watched as they stripped down and pulled up the briefs. Some boys were cautious and tried to do it quickly. Some boys tried to keep their free hand over their dicks, while others would turn their backs and show off their naked butts to me. One boy who tried to do that tipped over and was sprawled out revealing his thin erection to everyone.

I blew a whistle and the boys were back in order, standing up straight, looking like gifts, each wrapped in tight white cotton. "Slave Display Position," I shouted like a drill sergeant. Most of the boys did quite well. These are some of the things boys do in schoolyard games from a young age. Only three boys needed to be corrected on their form. So I ordered the three boys to come up front and bend over the table that ran the length of the room in front of the boys.

With these three nervous boys bent over, I pulled down the backs of each of their briefs. A normal group of teen boys would hoot and laugh when their classmate's butts are revealed. But these boys had already learned that I was not playing. The boys saw that I had a bucket of rolled up newspapers. I lifted the first in the air for the boys to behold. It didn't look very impressive, and certainly not threatening.

"According to the law, I can only use a paddle or a lash for designated offenses. But I can always give hand spanks or paddling with my hand or with a rolled up newspaper." I swatted the air with the rolled up newspaper for the group of boys to observe. Then I held it high in the air and smacked it hard over the first boy's upturned butt. The boy cried out in pain. Of course I had frozen the paper at the center of each so there was some heft to these makeshift hammers. It also smacked someone hard wherever it hit. I had to take a new newspaper after every three smacks, because the pages would shred from the force.

Then I lined up all the boys facing the table and ordered all of them to bend over and pull down the backs of their white briefs. I walked along the line of boys. Then I consulted my list, "Lars?" I called out almost as a question. The slim boy with lemon blond hair came forward. His body was too thin for my tastes, but very nicely defined. There was a lot of potential profit in someone buying Lars at a bargain rate, building up his chest and muscles, and then re-selling him at a high profit. This boy had great potential as a pleasure slave.

"Lars, it took you the longest to get undressed and put your clothes away. It was an extra 55 seconds, boy."

He began, "Yes, but I had on these boots that..."

"Silence," I snapped, slapping him hard across the face. There was an audible gasp in the room. Without looking away from Lars, I spoke to the other boys, "Yes, I am permitted to do that also. The rules say I can punish you physically using my hands. That was certainly within the rules."

Directing myself back to the boy in front of me, "Do you want to guess what your punishment will be today, Lars?"

He was looking down at the floor, tears almost coming to his eyes as he said, "Y-you're going to give me 55 whacks on my behind, sir?"

I laughed and said, "What nonsense, boy. You're the one who'll be handing out those 55 smacks to these other boys. What's it to be, boy? Do you have a grudge against some boy in this class? Wanna give him the full 55? Or maybe split it between 3 of 4 boys."

He thought then calmly said, "I will give one each to each of the other guys... sir."

He swatted the first butt in line in a very lackluster way. There was no energy in his arm. Then he was doing the same to the second boy in line. "I won't put up with this charade, boy. For each boy you don't really smack, I will replace your one whack with one from me. And trust me boy, I can hit much harder." I aimed the paddle toward the first boy's ass, raised it up in the air, and let it down with a loud whooshing sound. The boy underneath me nearly jumped in the air and shrieked. I paid no attention to him, instead turning to Lars and saying, "You will smack each boy on the butt with all the strength you can. Do you understand me, boy? Otherwise I'll replace your smacks with mine." I also pointed out that rather than Lars going down the line repeatedly, he could give each boy three smacks and move on to the next.

The hour wore on and the boys lost trust in each other. The next boy up was Tino, who said that he had to be faithful to his pals on the wrestling team and the baseball team. He called for them to stick together, then paddled only football and basketball players. That wasn't a wise thing to do. The next boy up was a football player and he got revenge, especially against Tino. Chuck, who wasn't on any sports team, just handed out smacks indiscriminately, laughing as he did so. A lot of boys wanted revenge on him for that laughter, also because he didn't have allegiance to any sports team. By the end, all the boys were lined up in slave display position, their sore bottoms covered in white fabric. This building was in the middle of a large clearing in the woods. I ordered the boys to run around the clearing five times. I had measured the distance and it was optimal. I sat back to watch them and to consider their potential.

CHAPTER 4: THE SECOND WEEK AND BEYOND

For the second UMI class session, the boys are told to be prepared to get wet, so all of them showed up in sweats or shorts, with their usual T-shirts. They didn't need any of these clothes. I simply ordered the boys back into their tight white briefs. They did a much better job of standing at attention. I counted down the line and assigned each boy a number. Then I told them I would randomly select numbers. That wasn't true. I'm a genius with numbers and matched the pairs as I wanted them arranged. Sometimes two friends were together. Sometimes a boy was paired with someone who was his opposite.

I then instructed the boys to line up, each facing his partner. I instructed the ones with higher numbers to stand against the wall. I then told the boys against the wall that they would be serving their teammates. You can imaging how the boys reacted to the word "Serving."

I then clarified that the boys who would be serving, would be shaving and taking care of the bathing needs of their teammates. There was a stillness in the room when I explained this. Some of the boys had experience with older brothers who had been through UMI and had their body hair shaved, some other boys seemed alarmed. The boys were showered, then had the hair on their bodies lathered up. Of course all the boys needed shaving around the base of their dicks. And of course every boy got an erection when this was occurring, with all the other boys watching and touching.

It gave me a perfect opportunity to tell the boys not to be embarrassed about being naked or showing an erection, "It's natural when you are in service." For the first shaving, I went to each group of boys and took the razor. I demonstrated to the dry boy what was involved with shaving pubes without nicking a penis. Of course I had my free hand touching each of the boys' nice boners. Some were surprisingly long and thick, others were cute but neither long nor thick. That was OK. There's room for all tastes in the world, as well as in a slave auction hall.

After that the boys had to learn to administer enemas to each other. One boy complained that he'd had a big bowel movement that morning and didn't have enough to give. I gave him time and he fulfilled the requirement. I told them that the following week they would be administering enemas to themselves. I also told them they would be responsible for keeping their bodies cleanly shaved and washed. I warned that their bodies would be examined in careful detail every Saturday morning. Boys would be punished for any hair found below the eyebrows.

The following week when the boys arrived for class, I introduced them to our guest. McGhee was a large man, known in the slave trade across the territory. He had the biggest business in exporting boys to Eureka. It is generous of him to come to my class and share his knowledge. But I know he's actually there scouting for boys to sell in another two years. He also kept a file and knew the dates when certain boys would be turning 18. "We wanna get them fresh," McGhee would always say. He was aggressive about his business, and he had a discerning eye.

Of course his eyes immediately fell on Connor. So I did a trick I've done before. I printed out each of the boys' names on a label. I showed them the labels as I tossed them into a dark hat. I then pretended to fish around in the hat, knowing I had pocketed the selected card in the brim of the hat. I held it up and it said, "Connor."

I ushered Connor up to the podium and told the students, "Connor is going to be our model today." I looked around and said, "I hope you boys noticed how random that was. It's like that in the indenture industry. You might be the fifth boy in line. Will that mean you're heading to something good? Or something bad?" There was a nervous chuckle among the group.

McGhee helped fasten leather cuffs on Connor's wrists, then he lifted up the boy's arms and attached the cuffs to the boy's collar on each side. I turned to the class and said, "No matter how tame a slaveboy is, there may be some things in the examination, cleaning or medical procedure that startle or disturb the boy. So it's safest to put the slaveboy in a position like this." My hands were all over Connor's hard muscles. McGhee came over and examined each of Connor's fully-exposed underarms. The right one was OK, but McGhee said he found two pin hairs in the left armpit. He plucked them out as the boy winced.

Then McGhee was on his knees examining the football player's legs, before turning his attention to the boy's tender balls and dick. Of course, Connor had his eyes closed and his body was shaking from nerves. I broke the silence to say, "I have made clear that we strictly follow the state rules here. This boy's mouth and his anus will not be penetrated while he's in this program." McGhee gave me a dirty look, like he thought I was directing that reminder at him.

The slave trader still had his hands all over Connor, testing the strength in the boy's legs -- he told me later he thought Connor could grow to become a pony slave, running his master's private trap into town. A few of the richest men in our region used boys that way. This boy was certainly a trophy and he would undoubtedly go for a high price. McGhee's finger went roughly up Connor's asshole and the boy gasped. Then the slave trader held up his finger, grinned and said, "Totally clean." He then put his finger to Connor's lips. Connor tried to turn away and McGhee snapped, "You're the one responsible for cleaning out your ass, boy. Are you telling me that you didn't clean it out well enough, so you'r not willing to lick my finger now? Should I punish you for not being clean, boy?"

Connor softly said, "No, no, sir," came closer and licked the big slavetrader's finger. The look on McGhee's face told me that little power play brought him close to shooting off in his pants. Connor just looked confused and a little bit scared. McGhee went on, "He's new to all this. The boy deserves our understanding." There was a look of relief on Connor's face, but then the older man went on, "So he should only get ten swats for being uncooperative with a master."

I turned to Connor and said, "Bend over, boy," the way I might give a command to a dog. Connor bent over and I peeled down the white briefs in back, revealing a perfect bubble butt. It was smaller than I would have expected on a boy of his size, but that's what made it even hotter. I rubbed the strands of the tawse across the boy's smooth backside. I saw goosebumps pop up and saw the boy shiver. Then I swatted three times across his buttcheeks. The boy groaned and shuddered. "This is a swat, boy. Beating you with a paddle would be a whack." I went on to give Connor another seven blows to his white round ass. His face was scrunched up at the end like he was trying very hard not to cry.

Afterwards I couldn't find McGhee. It turns out he had gone back to my office and closed himself in so he could have a good jack off session. Like me, he's a professional and knows he won't get actual oral or anal sex from these boys, but the turn-on factor in that room was enormous. McGhee took me out for a steak and lobster dinner that night. He enjoyed my class very much and he'd made notes on most of the boys.

He agreed that I had a good group this year. Some of the boys would bring high prices and would end up with high end owners somewhere on one of the coasts. Those boys would bring profits into the pockets of the indenture agent, the government, the boy's family, and the boy. There were other boys he thought were less desirable. But he said even those boys would probably be purchased as household slaves for some middle class family or some middle class single man. If it was with a family, the husband would secretly go down to the slave quarters and sodomize his slaveboy at night. If it was a single man, the slave would simply be fucked on the owner's bed night or day. Everyone knows that personal services means a slaveboy will have to do house chores and cleaning, but he would also be used as a pleasure slave.

Except we were not permitted to say that to the students. In front of the entire class, Chuck stomped his feet and insisted, "Why won't you answer the question? Are we gonna havta take y'know... umm penises... up our... y'know, rear ends?" He was trying to choose words that did not offend the school's language policy.

I sat down and spoke seriously. "Let's say you're a slaveboy for a big businessman. He works very long days, his body is sore when he gets back. Of course he'd want you to bring him some food, maybe another drink. You would know what your master desires. If your master feels sweaty, of course you will help him to shower. That means getting into the shower with him. What if he wants to have you soap up his big hairy middle-aged body? Well, it wouldn't appeal to you. It wouldn't be like feeling up Cindy Lou naked in a shower. But you're a slaveboy, you're there to do what your master asks."

"Sir," Chuck insisted. "If I'm down there having washed my owner's private parts, what if he ordered me to rub that with my hand until he shot off? What if he ordered me to take his thing in my mouth, sir?"

The room was too silent. I told them a heartfelt story about Italy during WWII. As the Allied Troops marched up the peninsula, the American G.I.s were horny for girls. In the Italian culture, a girl's virginity was sacred. Nobody would marry a girl who had lost her virginity, even if she had been forced. So Italian teenage boys did something very brave. They went and offered their butts to the American G.I.s for money. This money sustained their families and allowed their sisters to get married and have families. I brought the story to a rising crescendo.

Then I asked the silent room, "How many of you think those boys in Italy were heroes?"

They all agreed that the Italian boys had done something brave. I had planted an idea for them to think about. I hadn't told the boys they would be sodomized up the rear in slavery. But I hadn't told them that it wouldn't happen. And I glorified the memory of other teenage boys who saved their society by sacrificing their tender teenage butts.

As the semester proceeded I usually had one or two or even three other men there to assist me. Of course there were my friends in the slave management and training business. But there were also some fathers who were curious to see what their sons were experiencing. All these men tended to remain erect through most of their time visiting our class. They understood the rule about no sex with my students. But of course part of UMI curriculum teaches boys to masturbate another male's penis. I had the boys practice on each other. But these visitors to our class -- slave trainers or dads or just friendly citizens -- provided thick, hairy cocks for my students to practice on.

I brought in other special guests. These were always dealers in the slave industry who were doing me a favor, but also checking out the merchandise. And some were public officials who were signing my permits in exchange for two hours with one or two of my boys. They knew the rules. Everything that they did with students was videotaped, and they knew I'd prosecute them if they tried having actual sex with one of my students. The president of our school board liked to have one of our boys blindfolded and hog-tied, then would rub his dick on the nearly-naked boy's body until he shot his load. That's not the same as doing real sex to the boy.

On a particular week I let the boys get a little unruly. That gave me the excuse to lock them all in cock cages. These plastic devices with metal reinforcement would permit them to pee freely, but their dicks could not get fully erect and they certainly couldn't jerk off. I told the boys the cock cages would remain until they came to class the following week. I knew what torture it would be for 16-year-olds, spending an entire week without touching their dicks. When they arrived that next week, they were the most obedient and obsequious I had ever seen them. They were begging to have the cock cages removed. I told them to dress in their free boy underpants and line up in front of our truck. Once there, I unlocked each cock cage and then chained each boy in place in the back of our truck.

I knew that their dicks would all immediately go erect after a week in the cock cage. All of them had hands cuffed behind them so they couldn't touch their own erections. I drove to our scheduled destination in the Gaytown section of Capitol City and unloaded the boys in a local park. The neighborhood gays were expecting us and there was quite a crowd present to greet the boys. I looked over my students, each boy in his own underpants. Collin had tried to keep his P.E. shorts on, but I insisted that the jockstrap underneath was his real underwear, so he had his ass completely displayed on the main street of Gaytown. Chuck's baggy boxers that day were sea blue with vintage-style drawings of beach umbrellas and palm trees, Lars was in his white briefs, and various boys were in different colors of boxer briefs.

The gays were enjoying the display of erections in free boy underpants. Some of the gays watching were openly rubbing their boners in the front of their own pants. I split my class into three groups. I had two slave trader buddies helping me out that day. We each chained our line of boys together by their collars, hands behind their backs. I stood on the bed of the truck and announced to my boys (knowing the lurking gays were also hearing), "You boys are not slaveboys. We will not permit anyone to treat you as they would a slaveboy. However, you are trainee boys. Therefore you are treated as potential slaveboys or slaveboys-to-be `on the calendar' as the saying goes. Passersby can stop you and, if your master approves, they can examine you. After all, given the high likelihood that you boys will be indentured in the next few years, everyone on this street is a potential purchaser." There was a roar or approval from the gays.

Because of their age and status, the boys could not be examined nude, so their underpants had to be kept in place. However, interested parties were allowed to pull away the front of a boy's underwear to look at the dicks and balls stored away there. Passersby could also reach down into the back to feel a boy's ass cheeks in his underpants.

I paraded my boys down the main street of Gaytown and watched as various men pulled on the boys' nipples, slapped their butts, and felt them up in very lascivious ways. One heavyset hairy man in leather was fondling Chuck's bottom, while a man of equal size was tickling the boy's nipples. I saw a bounce in the teenage boy's boxers and then I watched as a stain appeared and spread on the cheerful print. Chuck grunted and bent over. Then he immediately looked up at me and said, "S-sorry, sir." Not only was there a flood of jism on the front left side of his brightly colored underpants, the cream was dripping down his leg. Because the boy's hands were cuffed behind his back, he couldn't do anything to rearrange his penis which was now caught up in the overly-moist fabric.

I directed him to a short wall and leaned him over it. I pulled down just the back of his boxers and smacked his smooth white ass cheeks five times. I was startled that after I planted the fifth loud whack, there was a load of cum that splashed on Chuck's reddened butt. I turned and saw that the same big hairy man in leather who had been toying with Chuck's butt cheeks was now pumping the last drops of his own explosive cum onto Chuck's backside. I pulled the teen's boxer shorts into place, soaking up the stranger's spunk as I did. Now the boy was wet front and back and blushing deeply as we proceeded down the street. The man who had cum on Chuck, handed me his card and asked me to notify him when the boy would be available for purchase.

I invited a few special guests to the class session where boys were required to masturbate each other. Once again I put the boys into teams of two. I wanted each boy to learn to be sensitive to what another male wanted. First I would seat the dickboy, who had his hands cuffed behind his back, next to the handler. Then I would ask the handler to play with dickboy's penis exactly the way he liked his own penis played with. If dickboy complained that his skin was being pulled too hard or that he didn't like his balls played with, he was to be ignored. Each boy had to reveal truthfully what other parts of their body they touched when they masturbated -- did they play with their holes or rub their nipples?

Then the boy doing the masturbating had to stop doing what he wanted and start listening to instructions from dickboy. In order to succeed, the handler had to do as instructed and make the other boy shoot his load. The men watching were definitely enjoying it more than the boys. I explained to the boys that slaves often were not allowed to masturbate themselves and had to depend on another slave or free man to do it for them. And that sometimes they might be asked to take care of a free man's penis in this way, and they needed to learn how to please each individual man.

My guests never got bored through all the group presentations. These men had flown in from Eureka. Of course that meant they were gays, but they weren't the obvious kind. They weren't wearing anything sparkly. Even though I'm a teacher, there's a lot I don't know. On that visit I went to a club in the gay district of our Capitol City. Gays are not discriminated against where I live. They are offered a free ticket to the Gay State of Eureka, or else they can move into the Gaytown slum in our major city. At the club I saw men grinding together and performing every imaginable sex act, and some I couldn't have imagined. I told my Eureka visitors that I needed to leave. I explained, "It's one thing to see men doing all that to a slaveboy. That seems natural to me. But to see two free men going at it like this just feels wrong."

So they took me downstairs to a club they said was more exclusive. I could hardly believe what I saw! There were three of my former UMI students dancing in cages above the small crowd. They were all 19 and 20 at the time so they had been in my class three or four years earlier, but I remembered them well. The Eureka visitors offered to pay for me to enjoy a night with one of the boys, but I felt they should enjoy the pleasures of our territory while they were visiting. I insisted that they use my three former students that night.

CHAPTER 5: AND THEN THE CHANGE IN LAW

Toward the end of the school year I got a few pieces of surprising news. First, the gay state of Eureka lowered their age of full indenture to 16. Since they did that on a Friday I knew that by the following Monday our legislature would match that legislation. That would mean the boys in my class were ripe for enslavement. Having just changed the laws as they did, there would be a great demand for 16-year-old slaveboys in Eureka.

I called certain parents and asked them to meet with me quickly. The next day was Saturday and I had my UMI class. I managed to get the necessary paperwork in order. With my connections to the slave trading industry, I was able to get the space and mobility I would need.

The next day's UMI class was typical. I knew that none of these boys followed actual news or knew anything about civics. Even their parents had been ignorant about the change in law that made their sons immediately eligible for enslavement. The boys in my class were all used to our routine by this point. But for a few of them today would end differently.

Boys were examined for hair, given a lesson on performing cunnilingus (using a plastic model), and sent out to a local park to do gardening in their underpants. People were used to seeing this year's UMI boys working in white briefs in the park, but it was always announced and still drew a crowd, especially middle school boys who liked to mock the high school juniors. Of course there were also the school rivals, gloating at seeing these boys stripped and embarrassed like this, but also scared the same could happen to them. And there were the men in the crowd, some who appeared to just happen by and stop to look for a few minutes. When some of these boys come on the auction block, those same men will be there watching and sometimes bidding.

When I packed the boys into our truck (and I do mean "packed" like luggage) and drove back to our small building, I dismissed most of the boys but kept four back: Connor, Chuck, Lars and Tino. I showed them forms I had gotten signed by their parents and I explained that they would be taken for a much more intense training, taken to a place where we were permitted to do more to their bodies.

Three men came in who had all met the boys in the past. It was McGhee and two other slave industry specialists who had visited the class before. Now each of us took one boy and methodically gagged him, blindfolded him, cuffed and shackled him. We placed each of our boys into a cage and took those cages out to the back of a van.

In a commanding voice, I announced, "OK, this is for the four boys: Connor, Chuck, Lars and Tino. You are property now. Do you understand me, boys? You are nothing more than slaveboys now." As far as I was concerned, I had dutifully informed these boys that they were now enslaved. Of course, reading the articles of indenture is considered standard. But I knew what I had announced would hold up in court.

The van was well set up. The air conditioning worked well. Also there was a mister that sprayed refreshing water across all four of the cages in the back, helping to cool our merchandise. We didn't mean to pamper our new slaveboys, but we wanted them looking their best on the auction block.

We arrived at the border where the Great North Plains Federation comes up against the outskirts of the Gay State of Eureka. There's a town there called Winnemucca that is known for its slave auctions. Because of where the town is situated, anytime someone is trying to get a boy out of GNP Territory to sell him in Eureka, this is the easiest point for them to reach. Nobody on the GNP side of the border cared that we were taking these boys out to sell them. They knew that the boy trade kept our economy going. And the only thing the guards cared about in Eureka, was how cute the boys were that we planned to sell. When we explained about the ages of these boys and the circumstances, the guards laughed and said they would come to the auction the following Monday.

You see, it was legal on that day to sell a 16-year-old boy in Eureka. But it wasn't legal yet to indenture a 16-year-old boy in the Great North Plains. We would have to wait on that till our legislature met on Monday. Meanwhile, we unpacked our four UMI students in the back of the large slave mall in Winnemucca, Eureka. They were wearing their white briefs, instead of slave shorts. Their hands remained cuffed behind their backs. Their collars were bright green, differentiating them from the real slaveboys who wore metal collars.

These four boys were among the boldest back at our school. But here they moved slowly, their eyes darting everywhere. All four of them were uneasy. Meanwhile, they drew interest from everyone we passed.

Dressed in white briefs and green collars, my students watched slaveboys being processed. They observed from overhead as straight boys were stripped to underpants. Then watched those boys get on a treadmill that took them through various stations. They watched as each new slave's essential information was taken and a series of inoculations were given. The boys on the treadmill stopped at a station where they were dipped in a depilatory cream removing all hair below their eyebrows. After that the new slaves being processed received enemas. All my boys were already familiar with this from my class.

But before we left that station, the manager there stopped our little tour group. I explained that these boys were in my Understanding Modern Indenture class, and that they were trainees and not full-fledged slaves. He looked at me in a meaningful way and said, "16 are they?" When I told him they were, he insisted that I pull down the backs of boys' briefs and give him a feel of their asses. He moaned as he fondled. I saw Tino squirming like he wanted to pull away. I warned, "Tino, a boy doesn't pull away when a free man is examining him." The man smiled at me and said, "Can't wait to get them here."

All the boys looked at me and asked what the man meant. I told them to focus on the tour. We watched the newly enslaved boys on the treadmill receive their permanent metal collars, and we saw them get their slave ID numbers (SINs) tattooed on their left collarbone and their right hip. (With so many five-year-indentures, they've devised tattoos that begin to fade after four-and-a-half years, and are easily removed at the end of five.) But when the tour was over, I found myself in the locker room reserved for my boys. They stood respectfully around me and Connor asked softly, "Tell us the truth, sir. Are we slaves now?"

I told them all about Eureka changing their laws to allow for the sale of 16-year-old boys as full service slaves. I told the boys that by Monday our Great North Plains legislature was expected to follow suit. Then all four of them would be sold in the Winnemucca Slaveboy Auction. That quieted them down for a long while. I then tried to take a more upbeat approach. I told them they were all expecting to be indentured in another two years anyway. "This way you boys will get it over with. You'll complete your five years of indenture by the time you're 21. I think that's a great deal for you."

Lars agreed with me and encouraged the other boys. He always helped try to keep spirits up. I then went on to tell the boys that, since the law had just then passed, there were virtually no 16-year-boys on the market yet. The group of them would be highly valued because 16-year-olds were still so rare. "I've told you boys before: If a man buys the most expensive automobile, he's not going to leave it out in the rain or park it where it'll get scratched and dented, right? Well, you are going to be some very high-priced goods when they auction you off. You will be highly treasured by your new owners, boys. That's a great way to start off."

Now, I don't know if you would say it was the boys' natural exuberance, or if it was just that these boys were all a little dense, but they started to cheer and congratulate themselves. Yes, they would be sold at auction the following day. But they would be purchased by very rich men who would value them highly. They spent that night in cages in the back of the Slave Mall, surrounded by other nearly-nude slaves. My boys knew their fate was sealed.

Monday night I was backstage preparing my boys for auction. They were already tattooed and collared, each dressed in their own free boy underpants. It was a tradition in Winnemucca. They liked to announce, "Straight teen boys in their free boy underpants." Connor was in his black boxer briefs, Tino was wearing grey briefs, Chuck was in baggy plaid boxers, and Lars in his own tighty whities.

Before the boys were sent out to the stage, the head of the Institute for Slave Management came up to congratulate me. He took me aside for a private conversation and told me how valued I was as an educator, and how grateful the slave industry was for my many contributions. (I laughed inside. My "contributions" had been teen boys they could sell.) Then he said he heard I was going to retire. I assured him that was correct. I was getting tired of teaching and felt I was just spinning my wheels.

When I started explaining my reasons for retirement, the man interrupted and said, "We could make it very attractive for you to stay."

I stopped in my tracks. I had to ask, "How?"

The man said, "You'll keep your full salary but only teach the Saturday class. You won't have to teach any classes during the week."

"Hmmmphh," I laughed. "I should have demanded that about ten years ago." Then I asked, "Why is it so important to you that I continue teaching Understanding Modern Indenture?"

"Don't you get it?" he asked. "When the age of indenture was 18, you taught Understanding Modern Indenture to 16-year-olds so they'd he prepared. Now we need to move the curriculum down from the 11th to the 9th grade. Now that 16-year-olds can be enslaved, we need you to start teaching UMI to 14-year-olds." I looked at him, surprised, but of course I should have already figured on this. He went on, "And for the next year we will need extra instructors to do 9th and 10th, as well as your traditional 11th grade class. We will need you to manage the other teachers."

I looked at him with a scowl. "So you want to give me more responsibility, and more management duties, and say that I'm fully compensated getting my old teacher's salary? What nonsense!"

"Wait! Wait!" he said excitedly. "We will give you a bonus for signing up for another three years as UMI teacher and to train the new teachers."

He pointed to the line of four of my students chained to their frames. Each one was about to be wheeled out onstage for bidding to begin. I knew that even with my savings, I'd never have enough cash to buy a beautiful, fresh 16-year-old slaveboy like any of these. I was confused and looked to the man. He said, "Pick one of them. If you sign up for three years, we will buy one of these boys for you as your bonus."

CHAPTER 6: TEACHER GETS A SLAVEBOY

I looked over the four boys on display. Connor was the big school jock, his chest and shoulders already mature for his age; everything was well-developed on this boy, and I remembered the advice that he would make a fine pony slave in the future. Lars was almost wispy, so blond and slim. I thought maybe I should take him because I feared how he would handle having a rough owner. Then there was Tino, such a wise ass, but such defined, hard muscles, an 8-pack stomach. And finally there was Chuck, the skateboarder who didn't play sports. I looked at him and thought to myself that he was at a perfect in-between age. I imagined that three years earlier, he was an adorable freckle-faced little kid with a button nose. Three years in the future, Chuck would be a skateboarding party dude who'd be perfectly at home in a frat house.

I turned to the man who had made the offer and said, "If only I knew what sort of owners the other three boys will get."

"Oh, that's no mystery," he said. "The largest boy brothel in Monterey is going to take them. You know they can afford to outbid anyone else. They also have the resources to monetize this sort of merchandise. You know that next Saturday night there will be a big auction and all three of these boys' cherries will be up for bid." Yes, of course, how could I be so ignorant not to realize that.

I turned to him and made a snap decision. "I'll take Chuck. And I will take him as guarantee that I'll remain for one year. If you want me to sign up for another year after that, you may have to offer me another bonus."

The auction house staff put a leash on Chuck's collar, his hands still cuffed behind him and his feet connected by a short chain. I led him away and he looked back over his shoulder. "Sir," he asked, "Wh-what just happened, sir? Why are you taking me and the other boys are being sent out to the stage and..." I touched an electric slave prod to the boy's exposed left nipple and he was soon writhing on the ground. I grabbed him by his collar and lifted him up to face me as I snarled, "Fucking slaveboy! You will only speak when spoken to."

Chuck looked down and trembled as he said, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

I stuffed Chuck into a small cage that was provided by the good people at the auction mall, and placed the cage in the trunk of my car. It was a struggle getting the cage into my house without any help. Chuck is a big boy, taller than me. I released Chuck but had to help him up since he still wore the handcuffs. I then proceeded to really examine him, not the polite way we examined boys in the UMI class, but the way an owner examines a new hunk of slaveflesh. I felt and kneaded all his muscles, spent a lot of time squeezing, pinching, then fingering his ass.

I pushed two of my fingers into Chuck's mouth and ordered him to get them wet, with a lot of spit. I then proceeded to work one, then the other finger, into the new slaveboy's virgin butthole. My tongue was in his ear as I grunted, "I have a long, thick cock, boy. And you know where I'm going to put that fat cock, don't you, Chuck?"

The youth shuddered and whimpered, and my cock leaked in my pants. For so many years I had dreamed about doing this to any number of my students. I had jerked off thinking about it. But of course I always followed the law and never acted on my fantasies. The boys in UMI class were 16, and legal age for indenture had been 18. As appealing as these young bucks might be, I would have to wait at least two years before getting at any of them -- and then only for an hour at a time as a guest of their eventual owners.

But suddenly the law was changed. Here was a 16-year-old boy who had been in my class just a few days earlier. Now he was turned into my slaveboy, collared, cuffed, and stripped to his boxer shorts. I undid his handcuffs, then pushed the youth to the couch and clambered on top of him. I was kissing him deep and wet, my tongue exploring his entire mouth. Then I moved down and sucked a bit of his neck between my lips. I chuckled and said, "I know your girlfriend always gave you hickies, boy. Now you'll have to get your hickies from an old homo."

I then proceeded down to Chuck's smooth chest. I licked and then sucked each of his nipples. One hand was wrapped around the boy's middle, my fingers sticking down into the back of his boxer shorts. My hand was outlining each of his ass cheeks. In between kisses, I told my new slave, "Way back when you wore those baggy pants, I always felt certain you had a beautiful little ass. And Indeed I was right. Each cheek is so round, so firm, the skin so soft. And I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't even have to shave your butt, slaveboy. It was already hairless."

I reached inside the front of the teenager's boxer shorts and pulled out his cock. I licked at the head and he shuddered with pleasure. Then I wrapped my lips around his stiff rod and sucked on it. He moaned and put his hands on my head. But then I pulled off his cock, looked him in the face, and pushed him to his knees in front of the couch.

My stiff prick was sticking up out of my pants. I caressed Chuck's face as I lightly stroked my erection. Then I was rubbing my hard-on against the boy's lips. "C'mon, kid. I'm leaving pre-cum on your lips. You need to lick it off like a good boy."

Reluctantly, his tongue came out and licked the coating of cream from his lips. "Now lick the head of it. Lick all the wet stuff off your owner's big cock." Chuck paused and then opened his mouth to take my flared cockhead between his lips. He gagged even though there was hardly any dick in his mouth. I brushed his hair tenderly and slowly started moving my hips backwards and forward.

He would need a lot more training to perform a really good blow job, but I almost came just looking down at his adorable face. He was an all-American boy, a few freckles across his turned up nose, his auburn hair swept back from his face. I had jerked off dreaming about this particular boy ever since he arrived at my school. And now I was seeing that face with his lips distorted, stretched wide to go around my thick stiff cock.

I pulled out of his mouth. This was my first night possessing this beautiful slaveboy, and this was not how I wanted to shoot my load. Chuck dutifully stripped me to my boxer shorts, then I took him by the hand and walked him into my bedroom. Once on the bed I spent a long time kissing the young buck, and also playing with his butthole, getting it greasy for easier entry. I took a perverse pleasure in leaving the boy in his "free boy boxer shorts." I was then able to pretend that I was doing something against the law and downright immoral. I imagined that I was bedding one of my free boy students. And indeed back when Chuck had dressed for school and put on these plaid boxers, he had been one of my free boy students.

His feet were resting on my shoulders when I entered his virgin ass. I was hovering over him with my cock pressing against his hole. I shoved forward and he scrunched up his face like he was trying not to scream. I planted tender kisses all over his face as I pulled my cock back and then inched it forward just a bit. I ordered him to lick my hairy chest and suck on both of my nipples. Having my nipples sucked always helps me get harder. In this case I wanted Chuck to concentrate on my chest in order to take his mind away from the pain up his butt.

I grabbed his hips and pulled him the rest of the way down onto my thick cock. My pubes were resting against the backs of his thighs. My balls were resting on his ass cheeks. I began to fuck him, slowly at first. Then I was moving in and out faster. I started long dicking him. I would pull almost all the way out of the boy's tender hole, and then slam back in all the way very quick and very hard. He would grunt each time I slammed into him.

I was dripping sweat and could feel my heart about to burst as my cock forced its way deeper than before. I felt like it was suddenly longer and thicker wrapped in the new slaveboy's insides. My cock shot very hard, over and over again. Each time my cock pulsated, Chuck gasped and I grunted.

When I collapsed on top of the new slave, I was glued to him with my dried sweat. With my cock still in his ass, I reached down and began slowly pumping his cock. In a soft voice, I said, "This is your introduction to being a slave, Chuck. I know you've been through a lot today. So your master is treating you kindly and jerking you off. What do you say, boy?"

"Th-thank you, master," he stammered.

I rubbed up and down harder until he shot in my hand. Then I brought that hand to his mouth and ordered him to lick it clean. He swore he had never before tasted even his own cum. I made note of that and decided that the next day he would have to get a good taste of his master's cum.

As I laid in bed with him, feeling calm and relaxed, I started to think about my Understanding Modern Indenture curriculum for the following year. I would start the next school year owning my own slaveboy, so I could bring Chuck to class for various demonstrations. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It would help to normalize indenture for the new students, many of whom knew Chuck when he was a student. I knew the younger boys would certainly enjoy seeing the former skateboard champ of the school naked and humiliated.

chuck's education

CHAPTER 7: NOW THAT I'M A SLAVE OWNER

Some colleagues asked why I chose Chuck. Many of them insisted that Connor, with his pecs and muscled arms was the most appealing. Others asked how I could resist the charms of Lars, the slim boyish blond. Still others reminded me that Tino had a harder, more athletic body than Chuck. I thought about this for quite some time until I realized I simply enjoyed Chuck's company.

I know you've all read slaveboy stories about a master who wants his slave gagged, constantly tortured, scared to ever speak. I'm very knowledgeable about the slave industry and I know these accounts are true, but the idea of having such a pathetic creature in my home doesn't appeal to me. Chuck makes me laugh, and that means a lot. I like snuggling with him in bed as I watch a movie (granted, it's always a movie I choose and one he probably hates, but he's a slaveboy so what can he do about it?). I enjoy having him give me a long leisurely blow job as I sip my coffee and read the Sunday paper.

In a strange way I feel like I am emulating the role of a father, with my slaveboy as my ersatz son in my very own incest fantasy. Of course Chuck is the idealized son, the one who helps me out of my clothes, and has my dinner on the table, who snuggles up with me when I'm chilly and who sucks my cock when I'm horny. What more could any father want?

Chuck and I eat dinner together. Of course I eat at the table and he eats from his bowl on the floor. Of course we shower together; he washes me thoroughly in the shower which I find very relaxing. I take him along on outings. My friends have come to know him -- most of my closer friends have used Chuck for some sort of sexual release. And we sleep together. Well, nights I'm restless the boy sleeps on the floor next to my bed, chained to the footboard. But a majority of nights he sleeps cuddled up next to me under the blankets.

I have not neglected Chuck's education. Changing the age of full indenture to 16 swept the continent. And soon after there were many online classes for slaveboys to complete their high school diplomas. Chuck attended class in front of my computer monitor. Onscreen were boxes with his teacher's video feed, and the feeds from all the other slaveboys in the class. I enjoyed watching from the side. The students were expected to always speak as properly polite slaveboys. The instructor would instantly message slave owners if their boys earned any punishments. He was generous in giving out punishments. Not so generous with grades. Since I promised to punish Chuck for any grade below an "A" I had plenty of opportunities to beat my slave's tender ass.

Early on I asked Chuck which he found more embarrassing when accompanying me grocery shopping: a slavejock or his own free boy boxers? He was reluctant to admit it, but slaveboys must tell their masters the truth, he found the free boy boxers more embarrassing. How could that be? The slavejock exposed, framed and separated his butt cheeks making them especially provocative.

He acknowledged me and told me that he'd gotten used to gay men looking at his ass. Why should he care if he gave them boners when they saw him in his slavejock? Any man chosen by his master could sodomize him up the rump. He was right. In fact, I enjoyed watching other men ogling my young slaveboy, and enjoyed watching certain men sodomizing his rear end.

"When you dress me in a slavejock, master, I feel like I'm a slave. But when I'm wearing my own boxers, the same ones I used to wear to school, I feel like I'm still a free boy, a student at school, sir. And that makes me feel embarrassed that all these people are seeing me without any shirt or pants on. You understand, sir, anytime we go to the supermarket we always see guys who knew me at school or neighbors who remember me growing up." He looked down and blushed. He had confirmed what I suspected and I made a point of dressing him in his free boy boxers for public occasions.

By the time I returned to teach my next class session the following Saturday, there were only seven boys remaining. The other parents had decided to cash in and sell their sons while the market for 16-year-olds was hot. The parents of these seven boys had decided either to hold off selling their sons till the boys reached 18, or to at least give the boys the benefit of finishing the class before sending them to the auction block.

We began the following year with three sections of UMI. Since I was most knowledgable about the curriculum, they asked me to teach the new class of 14-year-old boys. I would have to figure out how to adapt my coursework to suit them. In spite of their tender ages, I still had to prepare them for future enslavement. The school hired a retired older slave trainer to take on the 16-year-old boys, and they chose a young man who had worked for a fine slave trading establishment to teach the 15-year-olds.

The year did not go well. Two months into the year it was discovered that the young instructor for the middle boys had been coercing his free boy students to suck his cock. Not only was he fired, he was enslaved and sent off to the auction house in Monterey. That's a lesson for anyone who doesn't take our laws seriously and tries to have sex with underage free boys.

By that time, enough of the 16-year-old boys had been sold that their class had dwindled down to a few. So the school combined those students into one class with the 15-year-olds and gave them to the older slave trainer. Soon after that boys were reported with serious injuries. Their teacher had drawn blood in his punishments and he had not been following the guidelines for punishments. He was fired, but not enslaved. Some parents of wounded boys threatened to sue our school district, but it was shown that all the skin abrasions would heal in a matter of months. I heard that older instructor moved down to the Theocratic Republic of Dixie where he is preparing teenage Dixie boys for future indenture.

So I was left to teach the youngest students on Saturdays, and then the older boys in a Sunday session. When they pleaded with me to take on both classes and promise to stay the following year, I could have negotiated for higher pay. But instead I demanded that the school provide me with another "bonus" from among the current student body.

Funny how I had been planning to retire. But now I was enjoying my teaching job more than ever.

THE END

THE HISTORY & GEOGRAPHY OF NORTH AMERICA

It seems strange to me that the bulk of North America used to be one nation. How is it possible that people with such diverse views and attitudes could live together in one country? After the great shake-up of society, the former United States split into a variety of smaller nations.

The Northeast started out as a group of competing nation-states, until they were all merged into the Republic of Manhattan. This was the center of power and wealth on our continent. The Theocratic Republic of Dixie had the lowest level of education, but the highest church attendance. The Black Dominant State of Alabama was independent of Dixie -- any white man who spent too much time there was automatically enslaved. The Midwestern and Great Lakes states had struggled, but now functioned as colonies of the Republic of Manhattan. The mountain states could be pretty uncivilized. A series of small nation-states were established and, after decades of fighting among themselves, formed into the Great North Plains Federation of States.

On the West Coast, the former states of Arizona and New Mexico, and the southern part of California were all annexed by Mexico (making up for a historic injustice). The central coast was formed into the Gay State of Eureka. They had laws similar to the way Alabama governed whites. In Eureka, if you were gay you could live as a free citizen. If you were straight and stayed there for more than a certain number of days, you would be automatically enslaved. North Eureka included the Puget Sound area and that was totally inhabited by lesbians.

Indenture and enslavement were legal in all areas of North America. There was a strong belief in letting the free market rule. Therefore, since there was a market for good looking young males as pleasure slaves (and ugly, brutish males to work in mines and factories), slavery made sense.

Outside of the Republic of Manhattan, Eureka became the most prosperous part of the continent; this was because of their innovation and universal education. Some areas that had sucked their resources dry and poisoned their land with fracking and strip mining, didn't have much to trade with. Both Dixie and the Great North Plains based part of their economies on shipping boys off for sale on the coasts. Dixie was the main supplier for slaveboys to the Republic of Manhattan, while the Great North Plains provided boys to Eureka. Both of these areas had accepted this inevitability: families came to believe it was their patriotic duty to indenture their sons, and boys were encouraged to be brave in accepting their fates.

I INVITE ANY AUTHOR WHO WANTS TO WRITE A STORY SET IN THE WORLD OF UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE!

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