Traditional Values
By Randall Austin
PART SIXTEEN
This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com
Randall Austin's Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories
Martin Forestman, his wife, and daughter, were eager for Bradley to return home so that they could find out how inventory day went for him, and to learn how Alban and Quince were doing. To help pass the time Martin took them out to a restaurant for supper. When they returned home shortly before 7 PM Martin went to his office and listened to a message left on his answering machine from his brother, Steven. "So Martin, why are you avoiding me? Are you feeling guilty about what you allowed to happen to my son, Jason? I think the least you could have done was give me a call, and explain what in the hell happened. Have you no regard; no regard whatsoever, for Jason and me?"
Martin was not feeling guilty, but he was right about how Steven would react to Jason's sentence of indenturement. Martin had felt Steven should call him first, rather than him calling Steven. After all, his son Jason was in fact guilty of freeing a social servant from restraints (in this case his infibulation bar and ring). It is a crime viewed in the legal system as exactly the same as freeing a prisoner from bondage, a serious matter to begin with. But being a state certified trainer made the situation all the worse for Jason. The judge, an objective fellow, wanted to give Jason the maximum, 10 years criminal indenturement, and he saw no reason not to order such a sentence. But Jason's attorney made the point that Jason did not actually set Bradley free so as to allow an escape attempt. Jason's compassion for a social servant, so he argued, was simply so overwhelming that he just wanted to let him have a little fun'. But the attorney for the state brought up, in addition, several minor complaints on Jason's file from servants he had overseen, and reminded the judge of the pending lawsuit on assault charges against Jason by Karen Bledsoe. In the end, Jason's character was rendered seriously suspect. The judge noted a bothersome pattern of Jason abusing his authority as a state certified trainer for Social Services, and sentenced him to a minimum 6 years criminal indenturement, and a maximum 25 years, pending a good behavior and faithful service' review at the end of his initial 6 years of servitude.
Martin called Steven up and told him he didn't want to discuss it over the phone, but invited Steven out to the house for dinner on the following night.
Hal Franklin brought Bradley home a little before 8 PM that evening. His family gathered around eager to hear all about his day, but Bradley told his father he wanted to talk to him alone in his office. Martin took Bradley into his office and sat on the couch instead of at his desk. He invited Bradley to sit down next to him, but Bradley wanted to remain standing. "Dad, I just want to say that I'm sorry for the way I have been acting, and for letting you down so many times. Dad, I just want to be a good servant. I'm learning to be a good servant and I intend to do my best for you, mom, and our family. Please be patient with me, and don't be upset with me for all of my screw-up's!"
Martin was flabbergasted. "Son, what's up? Just the fact that you are trying to do your best makes me the proudest father in the world."
"Dad, thank you so much for understanding. Dad, I feel so awful about allowing Jason to unlock me." Bradley paused, and continued with a lowered voice. "I felt so horrible about what you and Flora caught me doing, it was so vulgar, and I never apologized to you. I'm very sorry about that. Please don't think I'm a pig, Dad."
"You stop worrying about it. Social Services told me it was not your fault at all, but entirely Jason's. And that's why he is where he is today."
Bradley asked, fearful, where Jason was.
"He's in the stocks at the same training facility your brothers are at. I just got word right now that he was sentenced to a minimum of 6 years criminal indenturement."
Bradley asked why Jason was sent out of his county for training. Martin answered. "For his own protection. Overseers, trainers, and guards, if ever convicted of a crime and end up in servitude, are invariably sent to another county for their training to prevent the risk of violent retribution from any of social servants they oversaw."
Bradley hung his head, and covered his face with his hands. "I feel awful." Martin stood up and hugged Bradley, and comforted him. "You have nothing to feel bad about. The state authorities put Jason where he is, you didn't."
Martin was pleased with the transformation he sensed taking place within Bradley. Though Bradley was upset over Jason, Martin was smiling on the inside over the `I-want-to-be-a good-boy' attitude Bradley was displaying. "I love you Bradley, and am so proud of you."
For the first time since Bradley was indentured, Martin felt comfortable assuming a dominant role over his oldest son. He decided this was the time to demonstrate his authority. He spoke quietly. "Son, if you are serious about being the best servant you can be, then I'd remind you of the level one punishment you have coming which needs to be dealt with. I say it's time we get this matter taken care of and out of the way. What do you say, son?"
Bradley nodded, and resigned himself to the punishment he had coming. Martin touched him on the shoulder. "Bradley, go and get your wooden hair brush and come back here."
Bradley felt a feeling of red shame course through his body, and recalled how a handsome blond servant he had spoken with earlier at the inventory event told how he had felt just such a feeling of total embarrassment when his new owners asked him for the first time to go and fetch his paddle for a discipline session. As Bradley exited his father's office and made his way to his room the red of his shame was so deep that his face flushed, and he began to sweat. The sweat of embarrassment mingled with the sweat of excitement. He felt a new feeling, of being both controlled by and loved by his father.
As Bradley entered his father's office with his hairbrush he could not raise his head, but he knew that this was a special moment that all social servants go through. He was about to submit to his first obedience session in a willful manner. He felt an unsettled yet warm stirring in his lower parts, and had to keep his mouth slightly open in order to gather enough oxygen in his excited state.
Martin spoke. "Why don't we get those fatigues off of you, and then get you over my lap."
Bradley nodded again and began unbuttoning the upper portion of his fatigues. He then sat on the floor to remove his sandals and finish unbuttoning the lower portion of his fatigues. When he was unbuttoned, he let his one-piece social servant jumpsuit fall from his body. He stood up in front of his father, tall, with his hands at his side, as if offering himself for view to his father. His hands stayed at his side not instinctively, but obediently. Bradley knew now that it was folly for him to try and be modest in front of his own father, especially since he was now a social servant. And besides, he had to finally try and stop hiding himself from authority figures. Trying to hide things was what got Jason into such serious trouble. He thought of all the hundreds of other servant boys he spent the day with naked. They had no qualms about nudity. And he also knew now that they, like him, had to strip when ordered. And now Bradley was committed to stripping the way he imagined all those servants stripped when ordered, without balking, and proud to display themselves for their owners, overseers, and family. He wanted to be like them.
To his father it appeared that Bradley had finally gotten rid of his free-boy attitude, and was trying to be an obeying servant. He gently grasped his naked son's arm and guided him over his lap. Bradley's large firm buttocks (which were the things that ended up getting Martin top dollar for his sons) were in plain view. He set his hand on the right globe, and spoke. "Son, this is the level one punishment social services indicated as proper punishment for you. It is being administered to you not because you are responsible for Jason releasing you from your penis lock. You share no blame for what Jason did. This punishment is simply for your failure to be forthright with me, who is your current chief overseer."
Martin spanked Bradley as hard as he could. The wooden hairbrush is a very painful instrument, even more so than the standard tawse. Just one month ago if Martin had spanked Bradley in such a way, Bradley would have had a right to resist and protect himself, and Martin could have been assured of receiving a prison sentence on child abuse charges for even trying to discipline a 22-year old son. But Bradley was a social servant now, and that brings about changes in the dynamic between father and son. While relatively few persons find themselves indentured and in service to their families, it is not rare. Those who do experience it tell of it being an intense bonding tool for child and parent. Forced into a relationship where the parent by law must take greater control of the child, any inhibitions the parent or child once held must be dismissed. The normal societal barriers are put aside, and parent and child soon find themselves involved far more intensely in each other's lives than was ever possible in a conventional family arrangement.
In several ways it felt very good to Martin having his oldest son over his knee for a good old-fashioned spanking. Just when he would begin to feel sorry for Bradley whimpering on his lap, he would recall some act of defiance from Bradley's teen years: driving while drinking with friends, breaking the outdoor fountain, never doing a very good job of raking the leaves in the fall. Finally being able to hairbrush Bradley on the bare-buns was not only retribution, but it was justice for all the anguish a son can cause a father.
The spanking stung and Bradley began to shed tears. But Bradley, despite the pain at one end, was also feeling good in the groin as he got spanked by his own dad, and that in turn made him feel good in the head. He wanted to please his dad now, and he wanted his dad to love him as he loved his dad. He constantly fought the embarrassment he was feeling getting spanked over his father's lap by thinking of all the hundreds of other servants he had seen and met today. They were cool. There were some younger than he, some his same age, and some older. But all of them had to go through the same kinds of humiliating discipline. They put up with it; it was just the way servants were traditionally kept in line, they all wanted to be good servants, no big deal.
Having his son naked and over his knee for the first time in 15 years felt good to Martin, as well. It was like he had reclaimed his son at the age of seven. He felt Bradley's little infibulated nub rub against his leg, and he had to smile at the thought that Bradley's infibulation bar kept his penis almost the same size as a seven-year old boy's. As Martin continued to redden the ass of his oldest son, Bradley began to wiggle, rut, and holler. But Martin knew he was finally taking control of his son, that he had a good thing going, and he wasn't about to stop now.
It was an amazing thing to Flora as she listened in the hallway to the spanking taking place in her father's office. Bradley was the nicest, neatest, politest, oldest brother a girl could have. All of her friends had a crush on Bradley. The thought of him being so submissive, and being so bare, and being over her father's lap getting spanked, made her mouth stay open in astonishment. She wanted to see it so badly. She wanted to walk into her father's office as if by accident. She needed to see her oldest brother being punished. She wanted to simply outright gawk at a spectacle she knew was taking place but could not imagine. Why was she afraid to walk in to her father's office? After all, a spanking isn't a secret or shameful a thing as masturbating is, and she once did walk in on Bradley doing that!
She opened the door to the study, quietly, and just stood in the hallway and watched. The noise of the spanks, the moans and hollering of Bradley, the words of admonishment of Martin to Bradley, made father and son unaware of Flora's presence. As she watched her brother's mounds bounce, quiver, jiggle, squirm, hump, and wiggle, little Flora realized why her brothers had such big bottoms; they were meant to be social servants. Martin, during a brief period when he stopped to rest his arm, looked up and noticed Flora, and motioned her away with an angry look. Bradley, who was pleading with his father, was unaware that Flora had witnessed anything. Flora, walking up the stairs to her room, was quick to process what she had witnessed; servant boys get spanked, so what! No big deal! She was looking forward in the weeks ahead to seeing Quince and Alban get punished as well.
From the literature Martin knew that social servants more often than not start to rut involuntarily during severe spankings. And now Martin saw that his little Bradley was no exception. Bradley called out. "Please stop, Dad." It only made Martin spank harder. "Daddy! Please stop!" Martin felt Bradley's nub, now a size bigger, against his leg. It felt good to Martin to have such control, at last, over his son. Martin checked the clock and saw that he had been spanking for a little over 11 minutes. The guidelines for a level one punishment, a spanking delivered by the hand, tawse, or equivalent instrument, are for a 10 to 15 minute non-stop session. Martin had intended and wanted to go on for the full 15 minutes, but was he somewhat confused by his own burgeoning erection, so he stopped the spanking. He spoke quietly to Bradley. "You are such a good boy! I am sorry I had to do that." Bradley, crying quietly, answered. "I know you are Dad. Thank you, Dad, for my spanking."
Martin pulled his naked son up along side of him and hugged him. He saw his son's erection held in check by the infibulation bar. It looked painful, and Martin asked Bradley if it was. Bradley, at first embarrassed, thought about all the hundreds of other servant boys who have to be checked out all over on a regular basis by their overseers, and lost his inhibitions. "Not as much as it looks like it does, Dad." Dad wiped his son's tears away and gave him a kiss. "It's all over now, son. A clean slate for you." Bradley smiled at his father, and Martin lovingly pinched his son's nose.
Out at Addison County Social Services Training Facilities newly indentured servants are kept two days in stocks, two days in neck yokes, and on the fifth day they are released from bondage and handed over to a personal trainer for six intense days of training in all the basics of servitude. After that period they are moved to group sessions for the remainder of their training, which can be anywhere from two to six weeks, depending on individual needs.
And so it was at all Vermont servant training centers, including the one Jason Forestman found himself in as he woke from a good night's sleep with his head and hands in a neck yoke, on his fifth day of training. He knew a personal trainer would soon be coming to remove his yoke and take him out of the isolation ward, and into his private training room.
Only senior trainers got to train the men and women who were once former trainers. It was considered a plum assignment. Reese Posnowkovsky was excited when the training assignments were handed out the previous week and he saw that he would be Jason Forestman's personal trainer. Not only is training a former trainer a special challenge, but when the former trainer was a hotshot on the way up in the ranks the sessions can be outright exciting. And not only was Jason Forestman on the way up, he was a `fucking cutey', or so thought Reese Posnowkovsky.
As Reese read the processing orders from the court he was pleased to see that Jason's hair was neither buzzed nor shaved. He liked that. A nice full head of hair gave Reese an area of control over servants that Reese liked to use in personal training. Grabbing a handful of head hair of a handcuffed slave while paddling a butt was one of the easiest ways to control bucking. Reese was big on controlling servants' bucking. He hated it when slaves bucked while he was trying to paddle them.
As he clocked into work after having a full breakfast earlier at his apartment, he thought how much his life had changed in the last two years. Penniless and jobless, he was watching a late night infomercial from Vermont Social Services. As he watched the list of benefits roll by, Reese finally accepted the fact that he wasn't going to be able to make a living as an actor, so he bit the bullet and applied at Social Services as a floor assistant in the processing department. In no time the good looking (but not enough so to turn him into the screen star he dreamt about being) and personable Reese was encouraged by a senior trainer to apply as a trainer. Now, was he not only bringing in a regular and fair sized paycheck every week, but he had gained the respect of the community. Trainers are viewed by the general populace much like policemen; as people worthy of respect, even if you don't really like some of what they stand for.
It also brought him a lot of chicks sauntering over to his corner of the dance clubs. But chicks was not what Reese was ever especially after. As he was about to make his way to the isolation ward Reese knew what he wanted. And he was now going to get it.
But before fetching Jason Forestman, Reese had to tidy up his training room. Reese loved that senior trainers had their own training rooms. It was just like having their own office. He had to sweep up the hair which he clipped off of social servant Johnny Tucker the previous day. He had enjoyed his six days with Johnny. It was strange the way personal servant and trainer bond in a special way. At the end of his six days of personal training from Reese, Johnny hugged Reese and wept, promised him he would be a good servant, and Reese gave him his phone number and told him to call him when he got situated after being auctioned. Even though Johnny was 100% straight, straight social servant males who go through a decent training program find themselves rid of their free-boy inhibitions about being close and personal with other males.
And because Reese just might have to get close and personal with Jason Forestman, he wanted to look his best. He went to the sink and mirror in his training room, wet his hair and combed it. Why, Reese wondered, was he trying to look good for a social servant? He opened the vanity cabinet and took out his favorite cologne, and applied just a little under his shirt to the tops of his shoulders. He admired himself in the mirror, and thought how he was grooming himself as a sign of respect for the social servant he would be working with. He wanted Jason to like him, he knew that, but he also knew that all trainers want the servants they work with to like them. Trainers, after all, are human beings who need to be loved and appreciated by the people they work with just like everyone else.
On the first day of one-on-one training with a new servant, trainers do not wear their standard uniform. It is the usual practice not because the uniform unnecessarily intimidates servants, but because the uniform tends to inhibit the bond of communication needed for the effective training of a servant. Reese, dressed in khakis, dress shirt, and tie, and wearing a fully implemented service belt, entered the isolation ward. He went to Jason's cot, and looked at a very fearful Jason, whose face was covered in four days of stubble. He smiled at Reese and rolled off his blanket. He admired Jason's body and sex package, which after four days was still looking a little sore from the infibulation bar and giant hoop ring piercings. "I'll spray that with antiseptic, and if after a while it's still looking raw, we'll take you in to see the medic."
Reese sat on the bed and unlocked the yoke about Jason's neck to which his hands were secured. As he removed it he said. "There! Free at last!" Jason rubbed his wrists, then his neck. "My name is Reese Posnowkovsky, and I'm going to be your personal trainer for the next six days. Why don't you get up and come with me, and we can begin to get to know each other a little better." Jason told Reese he had to pee real badly. Reese answered. "I'll take you into my work room, and there you can pee and I'll have you shave yourself. Then we can get acquainted. If after three hours things have gone well, you can have some breakfast? What do you say?" Jason said the only thing he could say, which was... "Yes sir."
When they entered Reese's training room Reese pointed out a free standing toilet. "Okay little guy, why don't you scoot yourself over to the potty and do your business." Jason approached the toilet and started to lift the toilet seat, but Reese stopped him. "No, No! Servants go potty sitting down! We can't have you tinkling all over the floor." Reese loved talking to servants as if they were children. While talking down to servants is not uncommon among owners and overseers, it is a technique that most trainers, who need to get serious and down to hard matters of strict behavior, seldom employ. But Reese Posnowkovsky used it, and especially found it effective in dealing with former hotshots who found themselves indentured, such as Jason Forestman.
With Reese offering step by step instructions, Jason went to the sink, lathered his face, and started to shave himself. As he shaved, Reese spoke. "We removed you from the stocks and put you into the yoke because you were behaving yourself. You weren't sniveling, swearing, kicking and bucking. And we removed you from the yoke today because for the last two days you just kept your mouth shut and did as you were told. And you know all of that, because you are a trainer, or rather, were a trainer." Reese paused to let the words sink in. "So you know that if you behave and obey, nothing happens, and you are treated well."
"But the problem we trainers have with former trainers like yourself is that you already know the drill, and there is a high degree of likelihood that you are just behaving to avoid punishment; and that once you get sold and assigned you'll slump into a typical lazy servant-boy attitude, and take advantage of your owner. We know how you slave boys are. It is my job to see through you, and make sure that you are obeying because you really want to be a good servant, and not just because you want to avoid punishment."
"And you know all of this. I have to make sure you're not pulling a fast one on the system; just behaving to make sure we trainers don't whip your slave ass. Just pretending. And once you're out of sight of an overseer you'll slip into the lazy ass, conniving ways so typical of ill-trained servants. It's my job to make sure you aren't pulling the wool over our eyes."
When Jason finished shaving and rinsing his face, Reese ordered him to stand at attention. Reese smiled and slowly started removing his tie. He set the tie on his desk and slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. He removed his shirt and service belt, and set both of them on his desk. A frown came over Jason's face. It was a frown that made Reese toss another smile, as he sat down to untie and remove his boots. Jason started swallowing involuntarily. Reese stood up and pulled off his t-shirt. Jason looked like he would cry. As Reese unzipped his trousers and removed them, he said. "You look upset, Jason. You know what's going on?"
Indeed Jason did. Reese was getting what trainers call `rod-naked'. It was one of the sorts of things that were not all that uncommon in training situations, but of which most of the general public was unaware. Reese removed his undies, threw them on the desk, and for a few moments put his arms akimbo almost as if showing his naked body off to Jason. Reese's dick stuck out slightly firm, but not hard. He gave his balls a tug and sat back down and put his boots back on.
Jason knew what was going on, but still he had to cry. It was the moment for crying, but he held it back. Reese stood up, put his service belt back on, grabbed a training whip, flexed his arms, kicked his feet, and said. "Well, I guess we're ready!"
At that moment Jason completely lost control, and for the first time since his indenturement began crying out loud. He fell to his knees. He mumbled something that sounded like. "Please don't do this to me!" But Reese wasn't sure what he was saying. Reese watched Jason's performance, not a rare sight at all for someone's first day of real training. Jason himself was not aware that he was now doing many of the same things that used to so amuse him about servants in training: crouching, whimpering, pleading, cringing, sniveling, begging, and curling into a fetal position.
Reese watched Jason for a few moments, and offered an explanation that Jason already knew very well. "Don't be afraid of me just because I'm rod naked and whip ready. Being naked gives me greater flexibility in my movement, so I can more quickly adjust to your needs. It allows for a full range of body language between us; and good communication is so important during training. It helps keep us closely connected, and that is a good thing. It also emphasizes the physical nature of training and discipline. And by being naked in front of each other, it means we have no secrets from each other. I'm not going to hold anything back from you, and I want you to do the same."
Jason was now crying in a fetal position on the floor with his hands covering his head. Reese ordered him to get up. Jason tried to rouse himself into a standing position, but ended up in just a kneeling position with his head on the floor covered by his hands. Reese walked in back of Jason, took his right boot and put it into the cleft of Jason's ass. He turned his boot, and ordered. "Come on, big boy, let's stand up." Jason didn't stand, still lost in his paroxysm. Reese slowly tried to force his boot tip up into Jason's ass. Jason seemed to be unaware of Reese's presence.
Toying with Jason's ass didn't seem to rouse Jason, so Reese flexed his training whip. He was about to slash it across Jason's back, but thought better of it. He walked to his desk, set his training whip aside, and took instead his 7 foot service whip; Reese knew it was important in the early stages of training to let a servant know just how much pain could be delivered if he didn't obey. Reese ordered Jason for one last time to stand up. He didn't, so Reese gave Jason a full cracker slash of his whip across the length of his back. As the howls of Jason rose to the sky, so did the prick of trainer Reese Posnowkovsky. "Oh yeah, Jason, just howl it out. That's the sound I love to hear; a former trainer learning to be a quick-stepping social servant!" Jason was standing up and attempting to shield himself with his hands in no time. "Put your arms at your side or I'll slash your front side!" Jason did as ordered, while loudly moaning. He attempted to rub his back, but was stopped. "Hands at your side! I want you to stand there and feel that whip on your back." Reese's dick was quickly juicing, and bouncing up and down with a mind of its own. He gave it a quick jerk. "There's no reason for you to ever have to feel this whip again if you just do as you're told."
Reese admired the quivering former trainer. "I reckon just about this time you would be getting your rocks off fucking one of your trainees over at Addison County. Am I right?"
Jason was not going to risk the whip. "Sir, yes sir!"
"I thought so. Those were the good old days, weren't they?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
"Now it's my job to turn you into a prime, grade-A, fully compliant, worker boy. One who can be trusted. Are you going to let me do that Jason?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
Reese had intended to toy with Jason for quite some time before getting his rocks off, but Jason was just too prime a cowering specimen. His sexual tension was already at the breaking level. "Jason, since this is only your fifth day as a servant, you are, in a way, a baby servant. This is all new to you. These are your first days of servitude, and little baby servants like you need to be suckled." Reese fingered his quite substantial hardon, and waggled it slightly at Jason. "Get down on your knees and crawl over here, little guy." Jason knelt, and started walking on his knees up to Reese. When he got to Reese, Reese grabbed his prick and ran the large purple tip across the side of Jason's face. Precum stuck to Jason's side burns. "It's time for me to suckle my brand new little baby slave boy. Come on, put those lips of yours over the tip of my cock, and let me hear you make some gentle sucking sounds."
Jason, recently among the privileged of society, put his lips to Reese's cock head and did as ordered. Reese was overwhelmed. "Oh fuck man! Too damn hot! Start sucking me full hilt, server boy!" Jason did as ordered. Reese grabbed Jason's hair and pumped his head. "Oh man, I was planning on corking you after a few sucks, but you sure know how to do a hummer."
When Reese finally came in Jason's mouth, the force of his orgasm caused him to howl almost as loudly as Jason had when he received the whip stroke. As Reese was collecting himself after his blowjob he noticed the 7 foot service whip on his desk. Through experience he knew that boys who had tasted the service whip just before giving head always did a great job. He picked it up and sort of licked his lips as he examined it, almost wanting to thank it. Reese's seven footer had its work cut out for it, what with almost six full days remaining to get Jason Forestman into shape before sending him into group training.