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Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, any similarity to any person, place or thing living or dead is merely coincidental.
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Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd
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Born – Chapter Fourteen
"BANK EXEC ACCUSED EMBEZZLEMENT" The headline of the paper seized my attention. "Read all about it!" I could hear a little kid say in an old movie. I stared at the city's newspaper in the metal box. I never buy the paper, let alone keep up on current affairs. Yet, I had to read this story.
Mr. Brown was accused of embezzling money. He had been arrested at the bank yesterday morning. The police had gone through his house. The article went on to write about the dungeon and the wild sex parties that occurred there. Knowing from personal experience, the paper was exaggerating. There had been only one sex party, the night of my ringing. Everything else, except for that one day I was fucked by all twelve men, had been just Mr. Brown or the nurse, or the grocer. Now, I don't know what had happened prior, but it was obvious the article was a sensualized piece focusing more on the dungeon and the depravity that had to have gone on there, than Mr. Brown and the others stealing millions of dollars from the bank; seemed rather funny to me in an odd sort of way.
Now I knew why there was such a pall over the house in the last few months. Mr. Brown must have known something was going wrong. My intuition had sure taken care of me this time. If I had been there when the cops raided the house, I would have been part of the sensationalism. Naturally, I wouldn't be a part of the arrest because I was unaware of what was going on; but, would have been part of the front page news. I also would have been out of a job immediately and it probably would have been difficult to get another job other than another slave position being designated as a sex slave by our fair city. The most important reason was to save embarrassment for my parents. I was so glad I got out of that house in advance of this happening.
As I read further, I found that all twelve of the men had been indicted. Dr. Gatz's career in particular was being ruined on the front page as it went on to describe that he did "sex surgeries". In other words, they wrote about things like my ringing.
The grocer was mentioned too and later in the day I learned that people were protesting outside the store almost to a riot. Within a few days, the grocery store closed permanently. I wondered whatever happened to that boy that helped me escape. I had sent him the money immediately after he drove me to the DMV. I'm sure he would be ok. I decided not to call. If the police did come to question me, I wanted no phone records that indicated that I knew someone who worked at the grocery store.
I started to get concerned that the police were going to find the copy of the contract between Mr. Brown and me. I kept thinking for days that at some point the police were going to show up at my door or at work and ask questions. That never happened. All I can think is that Mr. Brown shredded the document. He had also returned my stuff, so there was no way of tracing me that way either. Now, I didn't regret having asked Mr. Brown for my things.
As with all news, within a few days, people were on to the next big drama of life and the story of Mr. Brown and the famed twelve men faded from the memory of the kind citizenry of our city. What I learned from the experience was invaluable regarding turning myself over to being a slave again. I learned that being a slave is being at the mercy of every part of an owner and the consequences of that can be dire. I vowed that if I became a slave again, I was going to do due diligence and not completely think with my cunt and dick.
Several weeks passed. I decided it was finally time to call my parents and hopefully arrange a meeting. I had some days off coming up and asked the catering company not to call; that I needed some rest, which I did after working 12-hour days most every day since my escape. Mom answered the phone and when I said hello she started crying and handed the phone to my Dad.
"Hello son. Where have you been?" Dad said.
"Dad, it is a long story. I was hoping that I could come to dinner some evening. What's going on with Mom?"
"She just upset. You have been gone a long time. She thought you had died or something. I knew that wasn't true, but she was inconsolable." Dad explained.
"Can I come to dinner either tomorrow or Friday? Those are my only days off this week and for the foreseeable future."
"Why don't you come on Friday, son? Call me when you get off the bus from downtown and I'll come over and get you. How about around 6:30 PM?"
"Ok, Dad. I'll time my arrival for about that time. Bye, Dad. Give my love to Mom."
"Bye, son."
Now this was a new aspect of being a slave that had not occurred to me. What happens when a slave is removed from society and then resurfaces for whatever reason? How does the family react? Is it better not to ever contact them? I would have to see how this dinner went. My current take was that if I entered into another contract that took me away, then returned to a free life again, I would no longer contact my parents. The torture of not knowing is probably better on them than the torture of coming in and out of their lives.
I bought some nice clothes Friday morning. I wanted to look presentable. I also wanted a looser shirt over a t-shirt so that my enlarged nipples and the rings did not show through. I didn't care about that in my everyday life wearing skin-tight t-shirts strolling the streets as I lived in a very progressive, live and let live neighborhood. I loved exposing my breasts to men as they walked by. At work, I wore a chef's jacket, which was not flattering to my svelte body.
Dad pulled up and I got in the car. He gave me a big hug before we pulled away from the curb. "Dad, I'm concerned about Mom. Is she going to cry all through dinner?"
"No, son. I have spent a considerable amount of time talking her through this. I asked that you briefly explain with as little detail as possible where you have been and then we will have a nice meal. I will drive you back to the city afterwards."
"Ok."
The scene was still not easy. Mom cried the minute I walked in the door giving me a big hug. I really didn't know what to say, so nothing was best and just let her be. We sat down in the living room for a few minutes to get the elephant-in-the-room out of the way. I simply explained that I had been in a relationship with a man who became possessive. He wouldn't let me contact anyone. I finished the discussion quickly with `I left him.' That was the end of that and we went on to have a lovely meal. Mom seemed to lighten up and, although the evening was strained, we all made the best of it. She loved the fact that I was working as a sous chef and prep cook. She had been very upset that I didn't go to college so I'm sure she was happy I had found a career. I didn't explain how I got my training.
We said our goodbyes. Dad and I got in the car. "Son, do you mind if we don't go directly back to your place? I would like to go someplace and chat a bit."
"Ok, Dad. Where?"
"I know a little place."
We drove all the way back into my neighborhood. I thought, `Why does he know a place around here; my suburban straight Dad?'
Dad pulled the car into the parking lot of a gay bar. I couldn't believe it. This was a quiet little bar for older gentleman where you actually could have a conversation because the music wasn't very loud. Most of the patrons couldn't hear well, so the owner understood that noise was an issue. We took a corner booth and he ordered drinks for both of us; yet I corrected him and told him that I only wanted a coke.
"Dad, why are we in a gay bar"
"Well, son. I have some explaining to do. Gee, this is hard. I don't exactly know where to start." Dad paused for a minute. "Son, your mother and I have not had sex since you were conceived."
Now that's an opening line! "Dad, I'm not sure that I want to hear all this."
"Listen, son. This is important to give you back story so you understand what I am doing. Your mother and I love each other very much; however, we are estranged now, particularly since you were gone. We had an incredible sex life prior to her getting pregnant with you."
Man, this was uncomfortable, but I figured after all I had put them through, the least I could do was listen.
Dad continued and didn't stop until it was all out. "As you know, we were married well over a year before she got pregnant. We fucked almost daily in hopes of having a child. We wanted lots of children. This had been both of our dreams. Yet, the moment she got pregnant, she did not like the feeling of pregnancy. As you grew inside her, it got worse. She had a terrible time; was sick constantly. I was very surprised that you even went to term. I thought about halfway through the ordeal she would miscarriage. You must have been one stubborn fucker."
I had to laugh at that one.
"After you were born, we made an agreement that we were going to raise you together and continue our marriage, but sex was no longer part of it. She told me that if I wanted to go out and have sex that was fine with her, `just don't touch me' she said.
"Naturally, I was twenty-two years old. I had to have sex. Finally, I went to a singles bar. A woman picked me up, took me back to her place. She turned out to be a dominatrix. I essentially became her sex slave for ten years."
My eyes widened. My initial reaction was this must be genetic my desire to serve.
Dad went on. "One day she took me down to the leather bar around the corner here. She told me that I was going home with this leatherman and that I was going to be his new slave. When I objected, she slapped me so hard in front of everyone at the bar that I fell to the floor. I knew I had done wrong and I went to her feet and kissed her thanking her for the new opportunity. I never saw her again.
"I had never had sex with a man. Yet, it was no different. I was a slave, pure and simple. The gender of the top meant nothing other than I learned how to suck dick."
Jesus, this was getting too weird. I wanted to stop him, yet the fascination was getting the best of me.
"From this master, I lost my ego. I became completely passive. I learned that my true place in life is to serve a real human being, which I am not. I am only lowly slave, bordering on becoming an `it'."
Now, I knew what an it' was. I couldn't imagine my Dad becoming on it'. He still seemed so normal to me, except this conversation was indicating that he knew more about being a slave than I did.
"Son. Two weeks from today I am retiring from the firm with twenty years' service. Your mother and I paid off the house last year with the money that was set aside for you to go to college. I am leaving your mother next month but not in the traditional way. She does not know I am leaving her, even though I am sure she has thought of leaving me. My Master has arranged for me to be sold at a slave auction. There is going to be a pretend kidnapping, which I will be fully aware of and be in the correct spot for the nap. No one will be the wiser and I will go on with the life that I know is right for me."
Now I had to ask a question, "Slave auction?"
"Yes, I am selling myself to the highest bidder. I am now to the stage mentally where I no longer care about the situation in which I end up. This is what I mean that I have lost my ego."
"Dad, are you aware that the situation that I was in was that of slavery?" I asked.
"Son, I suspected as such; however, I wasn't sure. I knew that whatever relationship you were in it was one of control over you. This is why I have been so calm while you have been gone. Attempting to still your mother without the benefit of explaining why I am so ok with you being missing was very difficult. She used to scream at me about my lack of caring. I did and do care; I just knew that you were doing what you needed to do, just as I am doing what I need to do."
Now, if there ever was a discussion where the term "TMI – Too Much Information" was appropriate, this was it. Except that Dad didn't stop. He had to say a couple of more things.
"Jim, I want you to come to the slave auction. My master is arranging for you to be allowed in. I want you to watch. I want you to see me taken away. I think it would be good for you to see. I am sorry to say, though, this is also an exhibitionist thing for me. I want you to see your Dad naked and exposed."
"Dad, I don't know. If I don't know what has happened to you, wouldn't it be better when I have to comfort Mom." I asked.
"Yes, it would; however, I want you to be there for a lot of reasons. I want you to see what slavery can really be about; not just some fantasy. I want to be able to say goodbye to you in the best way I know how; on a stage, naked, chained and sold off as a commodity. Most of all I want you to have the experience. Besides, I don't think you will have to do a lot of comforting of your mother."
I just had not realized how much their relationship had deteriorated. I must have been so self-absorbed with my own coming-of-age that I failed to notice the signs. Then again, every family is normal from the inside. Many times it takes leaving to understand things were not as they seemed.
Dad furthered with hopefully his last TMI request. "Son, will you fuck me?"
"Oh, Jesus Dad. Fuck you? Oh God. No. I won't." I started to get mad; although I'm not totally sure why. We weren't talking about anything that I hadn't thought of in my life except it was my Dad. "Haven't you said enough?" I yelled.
Dad was very calm. "Remember, Jim, we put up with a lot over the last year with you being gone. Our lives have irrevocably changed from your disappearance. This is only a request. As a future slave, I have no rights other than to ask. You can say no."
I asked while lowering my voice indicating I was no longer upset, "Why do you want me to fuck you? I am a bottom. I have never fucked anyone, let alone the idea of fucking my father. I don't know if I could even stay hard."
I could see that Dad had gone to that place that a true slave does before answering. His face was so subserviant as if my Dad had left the table and an "lesser" was sitting there. My Dad really had a slave mentality. He had a better slave mentality than me. His response was one that I couldn't argue. "Jim, by me getting fucked by my bottom son, this will show that I am only an object to be used by anyone. This would be the culmination of eighteen years of servitude, even more than being sold off next month. Once you put your dick inside my cunt, I will know beyond a doubt that I am only an object and the last few weeks of my free life is only about taking the responsible steps necessary to symbolically..." He paused before saying, "die".
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