A Trial Period of Enslavement

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Stories of the Slave Center The Nation's Largest Retailer of Faggots _______________________

A Trial Period of Enslavement Chapter 3: Making Clear What This Trial Period is All About

by slave 7

Disclaimer: This is a story of erotic fiction containing fantasy descriptions of Male-male slavery, which may include sexual acts, BDSM and nudity. It is a intended for adults only. You must be of legal adult age to read this work. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Synopsis: The American Real Slave Program that began in the 2030s has been a fact of life in the USA for nearly two decades now. Craig, though knowing full well of his own pull toward slavery, has resisted it all his adult life. Now, he is entering a trial period of enslavement and noting how at peace he feels, how happy he feels, how fulfilled he feels. What could this slavery he has dreamed of really be about, anyway? Could he self-actualize in slavery? Is that the path his journey in life takes? His trial period of enslavement may help him understand.

"It looks like the slave is happy!" declared Rob Carter. He had stored me away in a stall, like a captured animal. The bit with tongue plate was still firmly in my mouth. My hands were bound behind my back. A wide steel collar was around my neck and a chain went from the collar to an eye hook in the wall. I was lounging on a pile of composting plant material and felt reasonably comfortable. I was on my back and my knees were spread out wide. My hard on was at full mast. "Why am I happy?" I wondered to myself.

"It looks like the natural, authentic you," offered Rob Carter.

I didn't verbalize an answer. Maybe he was right. How could I know?

"Kneel up, slave."

I noted how he had switched from calling me "boy" to calling me "slave". No part of me seemed to mind.

"You like when I call you a slave, don't you?" It suits you. You feel it way down in your gut and in your soul, don't you? It feels good. You know it does! Because you are a slave. The word fits you just right. I know it suits me to say it. Just the way we're supposed to be. It feels good, so let's live it!"

I knelt in front of the man so easily, comfortably, naturally. He'd been able to get me naked, completely shaved all over, plugged, and collared, all without a whisper of resistance from me. As I knelt up, I felt the tail, which was hanging from my ass, drape over my calves. I really liked the feel of it. It did something to me, or for me.

Mr. Carter, as I had begun to think of him, pulled up a stool and sat on it, right in front of me. With his legs spread, his crotch was right in front of me, which seemed to create so many thoughts and feelings inside of me, as if I was near some magical place. And I was!

"Look up at me," Mr. Carter stated, and he put his hand under my chin to hold my gaze. Thus began one of the most important moments of my life.

Mr. Carter cleared his throat, and began: "Here you are, locked up in my barn, and I mean really locked up. You're collared, plugged and resting in a stall filled with muck, and you're happy about it, aren't you? You feel great, I can tell. I know it. So, explain to me, what does all of this tell you about yourself, Craig?"

"Hmm, Sir, that it makes me horny, Sir? That it feels good, Mr. Carter, Sir?"

"Well, no shit. But why does it make you horny? Why does it make you feel so good? Why does it suit you so well? You know it does. You know it suits you. It brings a calm to your whole being. I can feel it, like you were born for this, like this is where your heart yearns to be. Am I wrong?"

My body began to tremble. Self-acceptance is no easy thing. "Hmm, Sir, You're right, Sir. My mind may resist, but I can't deny that inside I actually feel really great, Sir."

"And doesn't that tell you something? Why not let yourself feel great, always? Why not live as you feel drawn?"

"Sir, I've just always been so scared, Sir, of who or what I am, of what others may do to me, or think of me, Sir."

"Yes, that makes sense. Most slaves go through a period of that." Mr. Carter paused for a few moments, apparently wanting to make sure he was about to say the right thing.
"Craig, I hadn't imagined having this conversation with you till after at least a few days with you on my ranch, maybe even a week or more, if ever, but it sure seems like now is the right time. So, here it goes. Here's what I think:

"Your friends, Jacob and Chris, are right about you. They think you are a slave and that you should surrender yourself into The Real Slave Program. There is a Slave Center not far from where your apartment is, Jacob told me. So, it wouldn't take much to take your self down there and sign your self in. Isn't that right?"

I was feeling rather stunned, nervous yet high, present yet afloat somewhere. Still, I managed a response: "Sir, yes, Sir."

"Your cock is totally soft now, just hanging there, lifeless. What does that say?"
"Sir, nothing, Sir. Or, maybe that I am at peace, Sir. Finally, Master."

There. I said it. Master.

"Yes. At peace. I understand. And I have to tell you that everything I've seen this morning, and everything I see in you right now, leads me to believe that your friends are correct about you. They love you very much, you know, and they want to see you living your best life."

I just kept looking up at Rob. Silent and, in some deep inner way, at peace, like my cock. I may also have been a little teary-eyed.

"You're not so unusual, Craig. The fact that there are people like you is why places like The Slave Center exist. The Slave Center is a large and successful business, you know. And it's all for slaves like you."

There was another little pause. Perhaps Rob was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't. So, He continued.

"Here's full disclosure about me, as I know you don't know very much about me. You ready to hear this?"

"Sir, yes, Sir, thank You, sir." I didn't know what else to say. And, as I have learned since, there's not much else a slave ever needs to say.

"I have worked with slaves since I was a teenager. From a young age, I knew that working with slaves was the career I wanted. So, when I was old enough, I got myself an internship with The Slave Center and learned about mastery. Now, I work for The Slave Center as one who teaches their mastery workshops, among other things. What I can offer you, Craig, is a trial period of full enslavement so you can see how well it suits you. If after the trial you see fit to surrender yourself as a slave to The Slave Center, great. I may decide to pay for you. If you don't, so be it. It's your life, for now."

He paused briefly to give me a chance to process the information he had just proffered, then he began again: "So, what do you think? It's probably best if you decide right now. You may enter your trial period of enslavement with me as your master, right now, right this second, or I can release you and call Jacob and Chris to come pick you up. What do you think, Craig? Your freedom in slavery, or that other kind of slavery in which you have a freedom you only think you have?"

I looked around and took stock of my situation. What did that man just say? I briefly considered his line of questioning. I had a bit in my mouth and a plug, with tail, up my ass, but I felt I was at the doorway to elation and teetering on the proverbial cliff. Will I jump, or will I turn back? Is there a turning back? Turning back to what?

I breathed deeply. Perhaps I was in some sort of timeless zone, a place of eternity. I turned inward again and noted the core feeling within me, of peace, of safety, of what-the-hell. Maybe this is what people mean when they say "follow your bliss." Just let go, but only when the time and place are right for you. Was this my time and place? How can one know? I began traveling within myself, so I still hadn't answered Mr. Carter.

He continued, "I'll make it easy for you. If you agree to your trial period of enslavement, get on your knees and say, Yes, Master.' If you do not agree, say no' and I will get you out of here."

What would you do, after all your years of inner turmoil, doubt, fear and pain? Really, what would you do? How does one know when the time is right for jumping off that cliff? How does one come to trust the answers within?

I took another deep breath, and I mean a really deep breath, the breath of life. Then, my body began to move as if I wasn't actively directing it. I rose out of my prone position and planted myself on my knees in a proper slave position. I mumbled through my bit the most resounding words I had every spoken: "Yes, Master!"

"Good, that's what I like to see and hear. Stay." He spoke to me like he would a dog. "Let me get some of these things off my slave so I can continue showing it what's what. My slave is off to a good start."

He detached the chain that was connected to the collar around my neck. He reached behind me, pulling my face closer to his crotch, and somehow managed to unlock the wrist restraints from being bound together. "Leave my hands where they belong. Show me you are committed to your enslavement," he stated. My mind noted that he called my hands his.

He then felt the bit, moved it around slightly, as if trying to see how tightly is was fit into my mouth, as if wondering if an adjustment needed to be made. Finally, he said, "Let's get this off you, slave, so we can talk."

He unlocked the straps that held the device in. He gently pulled the straps from behind my neck and let them hang from the bit. He grabbed the two rings that dangled from each end of the bar that formed the actual bit and said, "Open." I opened wide and he ever so gently pulled the plate attachment off of my tongue (or should I say his tongue?) and brought the entire bit device out of my mouth (his mouth?) and dropped it on the ground.

"Stick my slave tongue out, far," Rob Carter ordered, and I complied.

What he must have seen was a tongue with many indentations left in it from the little points on the bottom of the plate that stuck into my tongue. He took his thumb and index finger and grabbed the tip of my tongue. "Just relax." He then shook my tongue somewhat vigorously, from side to side and then up and down. Then he pulled it straight out to him, firmly, as he brought his eyes to be within half a foot from mine. "Good slave," was all he said.

"When I let go of this tongue, move the tongue and the jaw about. Let's make sure everything is loosened up and relaxed. If you ever get sore or achy, or get a headache, you will need to find a way to inform me. Now, wiggle the jaw around. And don't speak until I say it's okay."

I moved my jaw and then my neck about some. Mr. Carter, to my amazement, then began massaging my jaw joints, expertly, it felt to me. So damn good. I just let it happen, of course. He caressed me like a man massaging a dog's head, except it was my head.

What was more important than the good work he was doing on my jaws was that I felt my inner self surrendering to him even more. "If this is what being slave to him is like, count me in!" I was thinking to myself. I looked at him lovingly as his hands soothed my facial muscles. I may have let out some soft moans, I'm not sure.

"Now, bring those hands of mine out from behind my back and stretch my arms and back muscles." I complied, moving my body (which is his body), and it felt so good. After a minute or two, Mr. Carter asked, "All good? Now my slave is allowed to speak."

"Sir, yes, sir, thank you, sir," I answered, though it sounded kind of funny with my tongue not yet working as it normally would.

"Good, but we have an issue right there. Slave, every free man you see at this ranch, you must address as sir, except me. For this trial period, I am your master, and I expect to be addressed as such. So, let me hear it, slave."

I answered with no hesitation at all, "Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."

"Now, I'm going to take the waist harness off. Kneel up tall so I can manage it, my slave." He took off the harness that had locked the plug up my ass, but he left the plug right were it was. "Good slaves don't need the waist harness. Be good and hold in your tail."

"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."

"Good. Now, sit my slave ass down and let's talk."

I put the ass down on the bedding material and stretched the legs out in front of the body, spread out in a V-shape. The erection was in full view as I used the arms to lean back on. I looked up at Mr. Carter, who was sitting comfortably on his stool, with a slight smile on his face, his eyes bright and cheerful.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Master, good, Master, thank you, Master," was my reply. I didn't tell him how deeply good it felt, how wonderful.

"You have done a lot today, and it isn't even lunchtime. Do you have any bad feelings, physical or emotional? Any doubts so far?"

"Master, no, Master, not really, Master. My jaw and neck are a little sore, maybe, but they seem alright, Master."

"Good. And I hope the word `Master' will begin rolling right off your tongue with ease from now on."

"Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

"Good slave. Seeing you as my slave is easy for me." Mr. Carter paused to take a rather deep breath and then stated, "Yep, Jacob sure was right about you."

I was kind of taken aback. My jaw dropped some, and I asked, "What do you mean, Master?

"Oops. My slave failed in that attempt to communicate with its Master. Try again."

With only a slight hesitation, I corrected myself, "Master, what do you mean, Master?
"Better, my slave. I mean that Jacob told me you were possibly a good candidate for slavery, and by what you have shown me this morning, I'd sure say he was right."

"Master, what exactly did Jacob say about me, Master?" I asked, feeling somewhat defensive and even betrayed.

"We're not going to get into that right now. What we are going to discuss is how you are feeling about your stay here so far and whether or not you're sure you wish to continue to stay here, knowing your stay will include more of what you have already experienced, a realistic trial period of your enslavement."

"Master, I certainly want to stay for now, sir. Do I have to decide for the entire 2 weeks, or can I say yes for now and have a way to leave in a day or two, Master?

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hold you here against your will. The last thing I want is a resistant slave. I will give you times to opt out during your trial period. Slavery here is about who you are, not about what I can force you into or take from you. I cannot break you, only help you discover your whole self. And I can give that whole self a place to live in freedom and security. And I've already decided I'm not going to have you here for more than 1 week. You'll need time before you go back to work to reflect on your experiences in your slavery."

"Master, okay, thank you, Master." I wasn't sure if He was already refusing me in some way or not, but this only served to motivate me to serve him more and to prove myself to Him as a worthwhile slave.

"Good slave. Now, let me tell you about my ranch. It's a success because it operates, in part, by the power and goodness of slavery."

"Master, so, what I saw in your kitchen window was real, Master?"

"Yes, you probably saw my kitchen slave. It does much of the food preparation for all hands on the ranch."

"Master, yes, Master, I wondered, Master."

"Now, one last time, andI know we repeat ourselves, what I really need to know right now is that you are feeling good about being here with me and that you wish to continue. The days ahead will sort themselves out, and you'll be able to sort out whatever is going on within you. Deal? Or do you want to go home now?"

I took in what Mr. Carter was saying to me. My brain felt a little buzzed, sort of like I was a little high. Then, I looked back at Mr. Carter and answered the same as I had a few minutes ago. "Master, I wish to stay, Master."

"Good, stay and be what? I need to hear you say it."

"Master, uh, stay and be your slave, Master."

"So, you wish me to enslave you. I'm going to say that again, because it is so important. Do you wish me to enslave you, truly enslave you, on my terms?"

I took in a deep breath again, feeling incredulous that this was really happening. "Master, yes, Master. Please enslave me, Master."

"I will see you not as toy, not as a sexual bottom, not as a boyfriend, but as a slave, as a head of livestock, as pure slave chattel."

"Master, yes, Master."

"Your daily life here will be to serve me, to obey me, to work for me at all times and in all things. That hardly sounds like a vacation to me."

"Master, yes, Master, I understand, Master." My cock was jutting up to its fullest now. "I wish you to enslave me, Master. Please, Master."

"I see your barometer," he pointed to my cock, "is saying you are happy here, that you enjoy the idea of your enslavement."

"Master, yes, Master, I feel surprisingly good, Master, better than I have for a long time, Master."

"Excellent, my slave. That's how a slave should feel. Now, kneel back up, here in front of me, and put my slave hands behind my slave back. Now!"

I began to move into place when he put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. "Our conversation is over, so we are back in full protocol. Answer me when I give you an order, slave. Here it is again: Kneel and put my slave hands behind my slave back."

"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."

"That's better. That's what's required of all my slave properties."

So, there I was, kneeling nude before Mr. Carter, my cock as hard as it can get, and he on his stool, sexy in his blue jeans and boots. We were inside a stall, in Mr. Carter's stable, on his working ranch. He reached out and grabbed both my nipples firmly, very firmly. He leaned over toward my face and said, "Now, slave, tell me again why you're here. You know the answer I want to hear."

"Master, to be enslaved, Master, on a trial basis, Master."

"Good enough, slave. I will help you feel what it's like to be an actual slave on my ranch, and I predict it'll suit you."

Since Mr. Carter had begun referring to me as his slave, I felt a mixture of shame, pride, confusion and excitement, but I also felt a kind of internal comfort and a sense of settling in to my place, so to speak, my place in the cosmos, it seemed. It was a sensation I had never felt before.

"My interest in you, the reason I invited you here, was not to be nice and give you a free vacation. It was to enslave you, to see if your enslavement works for you, and for me. That is what your so-called vacation is now about. Are we clear on that, slave?"

I actually puffed my chest out a bit, as if proudly showing Mr. Carter who I really am, a slave, and said, "Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master!"

"You are moving very fast, slave. You've been here only a few hours and look where you are now. Lightning fast. But you sure seem to be very ripe for the taking and ready for this. Do you agree with me, slave, or am I wrong about something?"

"Master, I think your assessment is right, Master. You're reading the situation correctly, Master. It feels amazingly fast, but I'm doing alright, Master. Better than alright. Thank you, Master."

"Good. I have told you what you are to me: a slave, a piece of property, a head of livestock, a work-animal, a servant, a creature that is at its best, and at its happiest, when it is properly enslaved. Now, you need to tell me again who I am to you. That's how important it is. And I need you to say it clearly. I need to know that you know and accept who and what I am to you. Tell me so I really believe it. Who am I to you, slave?"

I knew what Mr. Carter needed to hear, so I said it confidently and clearly, and I did not hesitate at all, other than to thrust my chest out a tiny bit more, with my nipples still in his hands. "Master! You are my master, Master."

"Again, say just that single and most important word in a slave's vocabulary."

"Master."

"Look right into my eyes and tell me."

"Master!"

"Again."

"Master!"

"Again."

"Master!"

"Believe it, slave, and say it again,"

"Master!"

"Good. How does that word feel coming out of my slave's mouth?"

"Master, very good, Master, and so right, Master."

"Good slave. It feels right to me, too."

"Master, thank you, Master!"

I remained kneeling in front of Mr. Carter, who was still seated on his stool just inside the gate of the stall. I looked deeply into Mr. Carter's eyes, as he looked into mine. It felt magical. This is the kind of thing I dreamed about in my own little fantasy world, but I had never had it actually happen like this before, not even close. My breath came quick and shallow, and my body was quivering all over, shaking everywhere, in every muscle, seemingly in every molecule. Fresh life seemed to have been put into my skin, my tissue, my whole being, and I tingled with a body and life-force fully awakened. I felt a fierce vitality within me, like nothing I had ever experienced. With my eyes looking right into those of my Master, I felt connected to the Man, like I was a part of Him, an extension of Him. I was experiencing a kind of intimacy I had never known before.

And I felt a sense of the whole universe, of all existence, behind Him and through Him, and, for the first time in my life, I sensed my actual place in it all, in all the cosmos, like I was connecting with life and creation. Ah, this thing called life. I was now feeling it like never before. I was embracing myself as slave to the Man that felt like the Right Master for me. I was truly being in the moment, centered. Is this the only way I can connect to the energies and forces of the Universe? Is this the way I may align myself with those energies? By being a slave to the right Master? I had never before felt like I belonged anywhere, among any group of people, ever. I was always an oddity, not quite like others, but just living among them. Now, I was in the right place, at the right time, with the right man. Was this my place? Is there really such a thing? My life seemed to be falling into some kind of alignment, or I was high as fuck on what was happening in the here and now. No poppers. No intoxicants. Just life. And I liked it.

Master Rob Carter squeezed my nipples a bit harder. Then he squeezed with more force than my nipples had ever endured. He looked at me and enjoyed the moment. "Now, while you're feeling a little bit of my strength and authority, tell me again who I am."

"Master."

"Say it like you mean it." He seemed to press even harder on my nips.

"Master."

"Say it like it's true."

"Master." He dug his fingernails into my nips, which really hurt. I struggled to remain still, with my chest and nips held up and out for him.

"Say it like it's normal, natural, like it's just the way things naturally are, and give these nips to me."

"Master."

"Tell me from deep down in your gut, as you give these nips over to me." He pressed firmly.

"Master."

"Tell me so that you and I both believe it, that you gift yourself to me."

"Master."

"Tell me so that the stars believe it."

"Master." I increased the power in my voice but kept it pure and natural.

"That's it. Tell me so the whole Universe knows it to be true."

"Master."

"Tell me so everyone on this ranch knows it."

"Master." Now, I was beginning to almost shout.

"Tell me."

"Master." I said it even more strongly.

"Tell me again."

"Master." I said with full force, such that I'm sure anyone outside the stable could easy hear.

"Feel it throughout your slave body and slave spirit. Know it. Experience it."

"Master."

"Embrace Me with the word, with the truth. Hug me with the word."

"Master."

"Embrace your place. Embrace yourself. With that word."

"Master."

"You are your slavery."

"Master."

"You are a piece of property."

"Master."

"My property."

"Master."

"You are nothing outside of your slavery. You are nothing but slave."

"Master."

"Nothing at all."

"Master."

"Feel the truth of it."

"Master."

"Live it."

"Master."

"Be it."

"Master."

"My slave," he said softly as he relinquished his hold on my nipples. He took a nice, deep breath, and then he continued, softly: "Shh. Quiet. Breathe naturally. Let the breath flow." He waited a few more moments. "Now, show me."

A moment passed before he was certain that I wasn't sure what He wanted me to do, then he continued: "Bend forward. Keep my slave hands behind my slave back. Rest my slave forehead on the toe of its Master's boot."

"Master, yes, Master." I said as I followed his command. My breathing was still coming hard, but it had softened a little and become more regular. I was perspiring all over my body. And, more importantly, I was happy, amazed, overwhelmed with the energy of the moment.

"Calm. Just relax and be who you are and where you belong." He leaned his face down toward where my forehead was resting on his right boot, pretty close to my right ear, and said, in a soft masculine whisper, "Slave."

How could I deny it? I had virtually thrown myself into this situation, and I had never felt happier, had never felt more alive, pure and free.

I felt the plug in my ass and my slave tail resting over my calves. I felt my butt hole wonderfully full and stretched. After a few minutes, Mr. Carter said, "Keep the forehead where it is and lift the slave ass up more." I complied. He leaned forward and reached over my back to grab the base of the butt plug. He jiggled it, and jiggled it some more. Ah, what a feeling! Then, he began a gentle in and out motion, bringing the plug nearly to its widest point and then letting it glide back up my slave ass. He moved it back and forth, in and out, and all around. "Mine," he stated. "Mine." I think he meant all of me, not just the asshole or the plug and tail. He played with the plug as if my asshole were the way to my spirit, to the core of my whole being, and he wasn't wrong. He was claiming it all for himself.

After some minutes of this, he pulled the plug gently outward, until finally it came out with a plop. I felt wild. With my now empty ass up in the air, I felt an emptiness along with a yearning to be refilled. I felt alive all over, like never before. It was a tremendous moment in my life. Perhaps it was The Moment of my life.

Master threw the plug and tail down on the stable bedding. He sat upright again on His stool. "Head up," he ordered.

"Master, yes, Master," I appropriately replied, and as I lifted my head he reached for my chin with his right hand and again pointed my face toward his.

"Mine." he stated matter of factly. "Mine."

I looked into his eyes and felt like I was finally home.

"Master, yes, Master," was all I could say and was all that needed to be said. "Master, yes, Master."

My trial period of enslavement was underway.