I was turned on to this universe by the writing of Pete Brown UK. Heated up by some stories from Steam Train. These two authors directed me to the works of Richard Davies, One Ring, Total Reform and others. This story is set in a near-future world in which enslavement is the norm. This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get some help.
_____________________________________________________________ By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo.com)
I remembered Brad Winston as a nasty young teen who enjoyed being cruel and lording his power over others. For years, I only saw Brad at a distance. During the previous two years, he had been away at a university and only returned to the town of Winston for school vacations. But I'd heard he was a star on his school's soccer team. And seeing him around town in a tanktop I knew he had impressive shoulders and chest.
Everything had progressed as usual when I got back from school that afternoon. I even tolerated Rye's shaving me and giving me an enema much better than I had before. After all, he had a job to do. Maybe I was in better spirits because I hadn't earned a paddling that night. When I was brought back to my cell I opened my chemistry book to study for my final exam the following day.
Rye remained looking at me for a long moment. Then he said, "You do know how to address any of your masters properly?"
I looked up at him. "Masters? More than one? I thought the captain was my master?"
"The captain's sons are also your masters." Then he continued, "And if a free man comes into your presence you will immediately stand up and assume slave rest position. You do know that, don't you?" He actually seemed worried about me.
I smiled up at Rye and said, "Would you stop fussing. Of course I know all of that."
Another hour passed and I was intently reviewing my chemistry book when suddenly the door at the far end of the hallway opened and Brad Winston strode in. He stood in front of my cell. As fast as I could, I pulled a piece of paper to use as a bookmark, and then I rose to stand at slave rest position.
"What the hell is this?" the blond college athlete snarled.
"S-sir? I mean... M-master? I don't understand the question, master."
Once again I heard his cruel, mocking laugh. "And my father thinks he bought a smart slave. I suppose you're as stupid as you are slovenly, slaveboy." I suppressed my urge to speak. I had gotten straight "A" grades, while everyone knew Brad had always struggled in school with "Gentlemen's C's" - the grades that were given to the dimwitted sons of wealthy donors.
Enunciating each syllable very loudly, Brad shouted, "The an-swer is YES, MAS-TER!"
"Y-yes, master," I repeated, shaking with fear now.
"And when your master comes in to inspect you, you present yourself totally. How dare you cover yourself in the presence of your master? Give me those shorts, boy."
I peeled down the white briefs as quickly as I could and then followed his orders and handed my young master the one garment that had covered me. He unlocked the door of the cell and ordered me to step out so he could examine me all over.
As he prodded at each of my muscle groups, he continued berating me, "Also, when your master enters you stand and assume a respectful pose instantly. How dare you make a free man wait while you find a bookmark."
Each of his hands was gripping one of my nipples. He twisted and pulled them so hard I thought he would rip them off. I groaned with pain as I answered, "Yes, master. I'm sorry, master."
Then his hands were down at my genitals. He tugged hard on my penis and then declared, "This foreskin will have to go. We can have fun taking it off." I shuddered with horror. Then Brad's fingers moved down to my balls. He tugged and twisted and I nearly doubled over. He slapped my face so hard I fell to the ground.
"You're not doing a very good job of maintaining slave rest position, boy!"
Scrambling to my feet, I wanted to ask how I could be expected to maintain the proper pose when he hurt my testicles and knocked me to the ground. But I knew that would only make matters worse. I looked down at the ground and said, "Yes, master. I'll try harder, master."
"Now there's some nonsense about letting you attend school during he day, slaveboy. My father is too softhearted with the likes of you and your family. He's left certain instructions. While you're still attending school he doesn't want us to leave too many marks on your body. Also, while you're still attending school he doesn't want you used for sex - well at least not for real sex."
My mind was reeling. What did that last remark mean? "Soon enough we'll have you here on the estate for good and we can start using you as a proper slave should be used." With that, Brad unzipped his tan slacks, opened the belt, and let them fall to his knees. He pulled his long penis out of his boxer shorts and stroked it a few times. There was a bead of wetness at the tip of it.
When he saw me looking at his cock he remarked, "But that's OK with me. For old time's sake I'd enjoy just getting a handjob from you, Wally. Yeah, I think we're gonna keep Wally as your slave name. I like the sound of it. Remember when I said to you, C'mon Wally, just put your hand on it and stroke it up and down. But you wouldn't do it. You acted like you were too good to touch my cock. Now look at you."
The command was implied. I wrapped my fingers around his erection and began slowly stroking. Brad grinned broadly. "That's it, Wally. Take care of your master. It's good to serve your betters, boy. Hot damn, I wish we could've enslaved you back then, back when I had you in the poolhouse. Think of all the years of fun I would've had with you. And all the fun my dad would've had with you. By now you'd be so well trained we'd get a great price from a boy brothel for you, Wally.
I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that Brad was making all this up just to upset me. The captain had been so nice to me - no way would he use me for sex. And as for Brad's implications, everyone knew that sex was only legal once a slaveboy had turned eighteen. Sold to a boy brothel? The captain had an agreement with my father to keep me for household uses.
Brad had continued holding my white slave briefs in his hand. He groaned loudly and then pressed the small bit of white fabric against the head of his penis. I felt the rod pulsating under my stroking hand. Brad was shooting a big load of spunk into the pair of briefs.
When he was catching his breath, he handed me the briefs and told me to put them on. "B-but, master, they're all messy from..." Once again he slapped me hard across the face. This time I just managed to maintain my balance.
"Do you think your master is so stupid he doesn't know that his cum is on your slave shorts? Instead of whining about it, you should be thanking me for honoring you with my semen."
I hesitated just a moment before saying, "Th-thank you, master, for giving me this honor."
Brad suddenly shouted for Rye. The tall blond servant appeared in the room instantly. Apparently he'd been right on the other side of the door, waiting his master's bidding. Brad instructed Rye to attach my wrists to the bars on the top of the cage, up high and spread apart. I was facing the cage and my toes could just barely touch the floor. Then Brad asked for a very specific cane.
Rye was back in a flash, his head bowed, holding out the cane to Brad. Then in a quiet voice, Rye said, "Master Brad, forgive this slave for speaking but your father's instructions..."
"My father didn't want any permanent marks left on the new slave. You know that with this thicker cane the marks will fade in three days. And besides, this slave is my property and not my father's. It's his gift to me and long overdue if I say so myself."
"Yes, master," Rye said as he backed away.
I heard the swish of the cane through the air and kept bracing myself for the feel of it on my flesh. Just when I finally relaxed and wasn't ready for it, I felt the cane slice down across both buttocks. This would not be the last time I'd receive a punishment from Brad. I would come to understand that he enjoyed teasing and taunting. He enjoyed having a slave anticipate a strike that would not come, and then raining down a powerful series of blows on a slave's body just when the victim was unprepared.
Master Brad did not confine himself to my butt. I felt the cane across my back and across my thighs as well. Twenty blows altogether. I was shaking and could barely stand when Rye uncuffed me from the bars of the cage. Rye quickly whispered in my ear, "Thank master for helping to correct you and make you a better slave."
My lips moved as I tried to form the words, "Th-thank you, master, for correcting me and... and for making me a better slave, master."
Then Rye instructed, "Get down on the ground and kiss his shoes." I did as the tall slave said and heard Brad chuckling.
As I rose to my feet Brad was still chuckling. He said, "I'll tell you what, boy. I've thought about you having to put on those briefs with so much of my sperm all over the fabric. It might be too uncomfortable for you. So, before you put them back on, you can lick off any excess sperm."
Brad whispered in my ear, "Don't hesitate, you little fool."
I stuck out my tongue and was licking away at the white fabric. Just a few days before, the captain had ordered me to taste my own spunk from my hand. Now Brad, the captain's son, was taking this a step further. At his command, I was licking Brad's semen from the fabric of the underpants I'd be forced to wear. It had been odd enough tasting my own cream. Now I was tasting the cream from this nasty college jock.
The following morning, the remnants of Brad's cum had dried and discolored the white fabric of the briefs. I begged Rye for a clean pair. He simply said that he could not go against direct orders from our masters. I had to go to school to take my chemistry final exam. I knew I'd do well on the test. I ran quickly and got to school just as the bell was about to ring. I moved fast and crouched down on the floor of the classroom, hoping nobody would notice what my briefs looked like.
It was the group of freshmen boys who made a loud fuss about the cane marks on my exposed flesh and the cum stains hardened on my white underpants. One of them called out, "Look what the slave did to his tighty whities!" The others all laughed as a boy turned to my little brother and said, "Damn. You used to share a bedroom with him. I bet it stank from semen." My brother spoke up loud and said, "That was before he was a slave. It's only after they become slaves that they start getting all perverted." I ran down the hall not wanting to hear anymore.
I did well on the chemistry final and then got my slave chow and reported to Coach Baker's office. Once again he took me into the equipment room. This time he wasn't so interested in using my hand to get off. I was made to lie down on a mat. He pulled off all his clothes. He had an impressive body for a man of his age, though most of his broad, defined chest was hidden by a thick covering of hair. He climbed on top of me and immediately started grinding his hard cock against me. His hands moved all over me roughly.
Remembering how gently the ugly hulk of a slave had touched my body out in the school's slave shed, I felt growing resentment for the Coach. This was a man I had respected and trusted. I thought he really cared about me throughout high school. But now that I was a slave, he seemed intent on hurting me. After he spermed all over my belly and my chest, he picked up my white briefs and used them to wipe up the mess. He gave an evil grin and then said, "A little bit more won't make a difference."
Well, that extra semen did make a difference. It was still wet as I left the gym. And that was the moment the principal decided to call me down to his office. I stood at slave rest position while he fiddled with papers in a file cabinet and said his piece. "First off, we can't have you receiving the award from the physical education department at graduation. We can't have a slave parading onstage. And when we gave it due consideration, we just couldn't have a slave wearing a cap and gown and sitting with the other students.
"Eddie from the football team will be getting the award in your place, so at least you know it's going to someone deserving. Also, since you're so good at words, I've given Eddie a copy of the little speech you wrote. I'm sure he'll give a good rendition."
It was then that Mr. Tucci turned from the filing cabinet, holding my file folder in his hands. That was the first time he actually looked at me since I entered his office. He began shouting about the stains on my white briefs.
"P-please, sir, I didn't put these stains on it. It's not my fault, sir."
"Just like a slave! Passing the blame. Nothing is ever your fault, is it? You and all the other lazy sex-obsessed slaves!"
Mr. Tucci made a phone call, not to my father but to my owner's house. He ended up talking to Brad and telling him that I was being sent home and that, while he understood the owner's prerogative to dress his slave, I would only be permitted at school with clean garments. When Mr. Tucci hung up the phone he said that I had twenty minutes to get back to my master's house or else I'd be punished.
I ran from the school so hard and so fast I thought my heart would burst. I was only five minutes late, but this time my punishment would be administered by Master Brad. After the paddling, Brad was on his way out for the evening, so I breathed a sigh of relief and tried my best to sleep wearing the clean pair of briefs that Rye had given me.
The next morning I woke up ready to go to school, when Brad strode down the hall in just his plaid boxer shorts. He stopped at the bar of my cage and whipped his cock out of his underwear, placing it between the bars.
"I have to pee," he said laconically.
I just looked at him, not clear what his statement had to do with me. He got an odd look on his face and snapped, "You don't expect your master to go all the way to the bathroom, do you? Get down and take it in your mouth!"
My mind screamed, "No way!" but I fell to my knees. What could I do? Brad would give me another beating for sure. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth and he placed his limp penis on my tongue. He growled, "You'll have to wrap your lips firmly around it. Make a seal. Your master will be very unhappy if you spill even a drop, slaveboy."
I tried to do as he said. I gulped and swallowed the first few drops of his piss. But then my senses rebelled. His penis was flooding my mouth and throat and the fleshy tube fell from my lips. Brad just kept peeing all over me. His urine was in my hair, dripping from my face, down my torso, and it had soaked through my white briefs and made them transparent. I had tried to comply and follow my master's command, but now I was in worse shape than I would've been with a beating. Brad barked, "I expect you to lick up every drop that's spilled. Only then can you go to school." The young master then called for Rye to enter the room.
Looking down at the ground, I stammered, "B-but, I'll have to shower and put on a clean pair of..."
Brad cut me off even though he was addressing Rye. "This boy really has no conception of his role as a slave. He showers when I want him to shower. He gets a change of clothes when it pleases me. If he wants to go to his damn school then he can go just as he is now." Brad strode out of the room, but then opened the door once more to add, "And if he doesn't go to school he will be put to work on the grounds."
An hour later as I was working naked with Rye weeding a large flower patch, Master Brad came along and sniffed, "That slave stinks. Hose him down." Rye turned the cold water hose on me as Brad began to walk away. But then Brad turned back toward us (I think he considered this a dramatic move) and grinned. "I spoke with the principal of the high school, slaveboy. He has spoken with all your teachers. They all agree it would be best to give you final grades of 'P' for pass, instead of actual letter grades. That decided you don't have to return to the school at all." My mind was racing and shouting with the unfairness of it all. I had worked so hard at school. I was set to earn almost all "A's" for my final semester. I would have had one of the highest grade point averages in the school. But now the records would just show I had passed the classes. Of course I gritted my teeth and remained silent.
Brad took another more meaningful pause. "That means you're through with school as of today, Wally. All those things my father didn't want done to you until you were through with school..." His grin got so wide. Then he nodded to Rye and said, "Have the boy ready by 8 tonight. I've been looking forward to this for a long time."