MY LIFE SO FAR
This is a work of fiction.
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Part One.
My life changed dramatically some five years ago (as far as I have been able to keep track of time). My name in those days was Adam Thomas and I had just turned 18 years of age and was in my senior year of high school. I had lived all my life in the small town of Sunninghill situated in the south east region of the country and was an only child. My parents would, I suppose, have been classified as middle-class and we lived in an unpretentious single story house in a typical middle-class suburb. My father referred to himself as a bank executive although, if the truth were to be known, he was probably your typical bank clerk. My mother had never worked and kept house in the old traditional way. There was never much money to spare although we lived comfortably enough, if rather frugally. Fortunately for me I had no siblings and so my parents were able to spend a little more on me than would otherwise have been the case. Thus it was that I was able to attend Glendale High School which was the best of the local schools with good facilities and an above-average teaching staff. However, many of the other kids came from wealthier families and, as was to be expected, I found it difficult at times to fit in. Those kids were always sporting new clothes according to the latest fashions (while I continued to be turned out in jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and my old trusty leather jacket). Moreover, on Monday mornings there was always talk of the happenings over the weekend at the country club of which their parents were invariably members. Vacations, even overseas vacations, were another topic of conversation.
Shortly after entering the eighth grade, my class went on an outing, the details of which I don't remember, and I found myself sitting on the bus next to a kid I had seen in class but had at that stage not spoken with. He was an attractive kid with dark hair and blue eyes with attractive features, nicely dressed too, and naturally we started a conversation. His name was Brad Smith and we soon became good friends. Neither of us was the jock type but both were interested in sports, playing baseball and doing cross-country running. We had similar tastes in music and liked taking in movies and we soon began to hang out regularly as boys of that age do with their best buds. I discovered that Brad came from a very wealthy family, his father being a prominent businessman in the town. They lived in a mansion on what really could be described as an estate, and I began to wonder whether I could sustain a close friendship with such a privileged boy. I mentioned it to my mother and her advice was that people should be judged for what they themselves are and that I shouldn't sell myself short. Not long after we became really friendly, Brad invited me to stay for the weekend at his home. For a kid of my background it was an absolute eye-opener. I had no conception of how people of wealth lived. The house was huge, the furnishings like something from a Hollywood movie, and wherever one found oneself, slaves seemed to be in attendance. Meals turned out to be quite formal although breakfast was a hit and miss affair, and each member of the family was attended to individually by the house slaves. Brad and his younger brother Mike, who was two years younger, apparently ate breakfast in their bedrooms at whatever time took their fancy. The boys' bedrooms were large and were a teenager's dream. They contained large beds, not the narrow type one normally associates with kids of their age, a table and two easy chairs, in addition to a desk, and a cabinet which housed a PC configuration, flat-screen TV and DVD recorder/player. Of course each bedroom had a bathroom en suite. In effect each of the boys had a fully equipped apartment at his disposal. Oh, how envious I was! At that time the re-introduction of slavery had become fully accepted and I was quite accustomed to seeing slaves, so often shorn of hair and outfitted in comical costumes, on the streets of the town, sometimes unaccompanied performing tasks on behalf of their owners, or sometimes in tow behind their Masters. Nothing about those slaves really registered in my mind as they seemed to have the ability to blend into the background without attracting attention to themselves. I asked Brad how he interacted with the coterie of ever-present slaves in his home and he responded - "Dude, I just don't bother. Who the fuck cares? They are owned by my father and are there to serve, and provided they do what they are told and don't fuck up, I just ignore them. Why should I concern myself in any way with what are essentially pieces of property?" I just nodded dumbly.
Of course, the time arrived when I would have to reciprocate and invite Brad to spend time at our house. Despite everything I told myself, I really was nervous. I had no idea how he would react to the way my family lived and dreaded the possibility of being patronized and becoming the butt of jokes among the well-off kids at school. I was so thankful we had a guest room and that he was not going to be asked to share my bedroom, although of course we had to share a bathroom. As it turned out, Brad was really cool about the whole affair and seemed to like the informality of our lifestyle. He particularly liked being fussed over by my mother and told me later he thought she was terrific. I glowed at the compliment and resolved to show my mom more affection in future. Its strange how rich kids fall into one of two categories; they are either complete assholes who get a kick out of lording it over the less fortunate or alternatively they show real good breeding. Brad fell into the latter category and avoided asking my father anything about his work which, in the circumstances, might have been embarrassing for him. My mother thought Brad was a "doll".
Brad and I remained friends with an easygoing relationship and, of course, in due course, we started to take an interest in the opposite sex. Brad of course was regarded as a real catch by girls; he was cute and never let it be said that girls, egged on by their parents, are unimpressed by wealth. I too did not have too much trouble in getting dates and so it was that, although Brad and I began too see a little less of each other, we quite often double-dated. I was surprised at the interest I invoked in girls and so had a good look at myself in the mirror. What I saw did not displease me; I was quite tall for my age at 5'10", weighed in at about 150, and had good regular features and a slim well-proportioned body, And a nice dick too, even if I say so myself. My best feature though was my hair. I had a nicely shaped head which showed off my dark blonde hair to perfection and I made it a point of always having a cool hair style. It seemed to work wonders with the chicks!
Brad and I were now 16 years old and legally able to drive. I had not really expected to be given a car by my parents but it seemed that they had been thinking it over and my dad splurged and bought himself a new vehicle and handed down his 10-year-old sub-compact to me. Strangely enough, old clunkers are quite a status symbol with high school kids and so my new acquisition did not prove to be too much of an embarrassment. One night Brad called me and suggested hanging out. I said cool and he said I'll pick you up in thirty minutes. I waited for him outside my house and nearly fell on my back when he arrived in a red 3-series BMW cabriolet with black trim. Accompanying him was his 14 year old bro Mike who, Brad later told me, was crazy about the new car. Brad hadn't had the heart to refuse to have him along. Brad told Mike to get in the back so that I could sit up front and it wasn't difficult to sense Mike's anger at having to make way for me. As a parting shot Mike said to me "So this is where you live!" Brad told me "to ignore the little punk". For some time I had felt Mike's resentment of me but I had put it down to the fact that he was a little jealous of my relationship with Brad. Later Brad told me that having now turned 16, his father had told him he would be prepared to buy a new slave to serve as Brad's personal attendant but Brad had intimated to his dad that he would prefer to be given a sports car. Brad referred to it laughingly as his new "cunt magnet".
The next two years were a pleasant time for me. Brad and I remained friends and we both were doing well at school. Brad started to talk about where he would be going to college and said it would be cool if we were able to stay together. I avoided the topic as my parents had uttered not a word about the possibility of my studying further. We dated regularly and as we approached our 18th birthdays we each had acquired "unofficial" steady girlfriends. Brad had become quite outgoing in the social sense and, whenever his parents were away, which was quite frequently, he would host a party at his home. Normally there were about ten couples and, although Brad ensured things did not get out of hand, a fair amount of beer was consumed and, as always, there was a little drug-taking. Mike, of course, could not be excluded and normally he would invite a few of his buddies and sometimes one or two "bimbettes" as he referred to them. On one such occasion the party had wound down and Brad and I climbed into my car in order to take our dates home. While I drove Brad and his date were making out in the back seat. Eventually we dropped the girls off at their homes and Brad got up front. On the way back to Brad's place, it started to rain and, although I don't recall the exact circumstances, the car skidded and I collided with another vehicle. We had both been drinking so I told Brad to slip away figuring that there was no point in both of us having to face the wrath of our parents. I ran to the other vehicle which turned out to have been driven by a kid of my age. He had not been wearing a seatbelt and had lurched forward into the windshield. There was blood everywhere and I quickly summoned an ambulance and the police. The kid was taken away and fortunately it turned out that he had only superficial injuries. The police meanwhile decided to take me to the station to be tested for alcohol consumption. My car was impounded and searched and a quantity of marijuana was found on the floor on the passenger's side. The pot had obviously fallen out of Brad's pocket but how was I to protest my innocence when apparently I had been the only one in the car at the time of the accident?
The following day I appeared in court for arraignment and had the book thrown at me. I was released on bail into the custody of my parents and my lawyer informed me that he considered I was very lucky to have been released. I called Brad a number of times but was unable to get hold of him. About a week later he called me and told me that his father had forbidden him to speak or meet with me and with that he put down the receiver. My trial was set for one month hence and so began the longest wait of my life. My parents were virtually ignoring me, the school's headmaster had informed my father that it would be best if I did not attend classes until the matter had been resolved, and Brad had deserted me. That was like having a knife twisted in my heart as I had after all saved his ass and was now taking the rap for his having had drugs on him while in my car. My desolation at that time is difficult to describe.
The day of my trial arrived and I appeared in court in my best clothes, a pair of slacks, a button-down shirt and tie, sport coat and smart loafers. My hair as always was neatly cut. My parents were there to lend me support and just before the judge entered I noticed Mr. Smith, accompanied by Brad, slip into the court. They remained at the back of the court and did not acknowledge my greeting. The prosecutor read out the charges, the seriousness of which I really could not relate to, and I was asked to plead. I pleaded guilty as I had been advised to do by my lawyer (considering the preponderance of the evidence) and my lawyer then asked if he might address the court in mitigation. I must say my lawyer put up a sturdy case emphasizing how I had never been in trouble before, that I came from a good Christian home, was an excellent student at a good school, and that I would surely turn out to be an honest upstanding member of society in the future. He asked that I be given a suspended sentence with community service.
The judge in summing up stated that the continuing number of cases coming before the courts involving minors was highly disturbing and it seemed that nothing that was said or done made any impression on young offenders. Young people seemed to think that their age would always shield them from the proper application of the law and it was thus time in his opinion that an example be made that would discourage would-be offenders in the future. The defense's request for a suspended sentence would therefore be denied. In considering sentence he would then look at the facts of the case. Here, he continued, we have a situation where a young man, still underage, is found to be driving a motor vehicle, a lethal instrument, while under the influence of alcohol. In his diminished state of mind, he collides with another vehicle and the driver of that vehicle, returning from a Church function, is quite seriously injured. It was sheer chance that that young man was not killed or incapacitated for life. As if that was not enough, a search of the accused's car revealed the presence of drugs. The seriousness of the matter could not be overstated. The judge then intimated that in his view this was a case where a sentence of lifetime slavery was wholly appropriate and such a sentence was therefore handed down.
I was stunned and out of the corner of my eye I saw that my mother had collapsed and had fallen into my father's arms. Despite the turmoil of the moment I managed to catch sight of Mr. Smith and Brad quietly leaving the court. Before I knew what was happening two court officials grabbed my arms and pinioned them behind my back. Two others then snapped shackles with a connecting chain on my ankles. My clothes were stripped from my body and I found myself standing bare-assed naked in front of the judge. Finally a metal collar was locked around my neck and I was told to bow as the judge left the court. I was immediately handed over to another young man carrying a short whip and hustled out of the court by means of a leash attached to my collar all the time being told to "move your ass slaveboy, we aint got all day". I recognized this young man as Blade Anderson, the older brother of Kenny Anderson, a young man, slightly older than me, who had lived in my neighborhood and had become the owner, under rather strange circumstances, of Slaves r Us, a local slave dealership. I was hustled out the side door of the court on to what appeared to be a loading bay and from there on to a slave transport vehicle. This was basically a flatbed truck but had been fitted out with two rows of stand-up cages with an aisle down the middle for access purposes. I was shoved into one of the cages and secured to its side. The cages were designed to be as restrictive as possible and measured roughly 3' x 3' x 6'. They were secured to the flatbed of the truck and were open to the elements and to the stares of passersby. I had joined six other newly enslaved wretches and before the day was over had stood naked for four hours awaiting the arrival of further newly-sentenced slaves.
At 4pm that afternoon the driver of the truck engaged gear and we were driven off to begin our new lives as common slaves.
To be continued..........