Date: Thu, 1 Dec 2016 01:08:39 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo.com>
Subject: INDENTURED STEPSON, Chapter 4

INDENTURED STEPSON, Chapter 4 (the end)

By Master Redbeard r=e=d=b=e=a=r=d=e=d=s=f= at y=a=h=o=o= dot com


This is gay slave fiction set in a society where it's legal to enslave
young men for sexual purposes. If you're underage to read such a story, go
away. If you live in a jurisdiction where you cannot legally read such a
story, go away and try to move to another jurisdiction. If sex between
males or anything else in this story offends you, what are you doing on
this website to begin with? And if you cannot differentiate between fantasy
and reality, go away now and get some help.

THE STORY: When Lucas graduated from high school, he came home to find his
mother had been sent to rehab and he was enslaved by his stepfather and two
stepbrothers (in other words, Cinderella as gay slave fiction). In the
first 3 chapters, Slave Luke was trained to serve men sexually and suffered
humiliation from his new stepfamily, former friends, neighbors, classmates,
and school faculty. In this final chapter, he faces the unknown as his
stepfather prepares to sell him.

CHAPTER 4: LUKE FOR SALE

I hated my stepfamily with a white hot hate. But with my fear of being
sold, I thought I had to do my best to convince them to keep me. That's why
I became so subservient and willing on the weekends when Cameron brought me
home. But it seemed pointless. Often on those weekends, Mr. Strong would
have "friends" visiting. It was sometimes a single man, but more often two
or even four men at a time. He would always have me report to him, find
some reason to punish me, then give each of the men a chance to smack my
butt, and touch my body any other way they wanted -- and they always wanted
to finger my butthole.

It didn't take me long to figure out these were all potential buyers. The
headmaster came by and spent a long time talking with my stepdad before he
fingered me and felt me up. Coach stopped in but was very apologetic,
saying that he really didn't have the cash for "a piece of slaveflesh like
this," but he appreciated my stepdad letting him visit and get a feel.

That blond boy I had stuck up for when he was a freshmen, the one who'd
fingered me when I was a slave in the boy's shower room -- he came by with
his father. You could tell the boy was overeager to have the man buy
me. And you could tell his father wasn't pleased. The man kept motioning
for his son to stop looking too enthusiastic in front of a
seller. Mr. Strong and the boy's father went into the next room, and I was
left bent over a horse, my ass reddened from a spanking. The blond came
over to me, finding an excuse to make it look like he was examining my
muscles up close. He whispered to me, "I'm just putting on an act in front
of people, Lucas. I've always had real strong feelings for you. If my dad
buys you for me, I'll be so loving and...."

Just then the door opened and the two older men re-entered. The blond boy
stood up tall. When his father asked why he'd been down next to the
slaveboy like that, the boy said he was checking for shin splints. My
stepdad begrudgingly offered met services to provide each of them with
blowjobs. The boy was eager, but his father demurred. On their way out, the
man was a little too loud in saying, "If you let the slave blow you, you
have some obligation to the owner and then...."

I started hearing murmurs between Mr. Strong and his older son along the
lines of, "We'll leave the auction bid open till the closing date," and,
"The expense of showing him around town and around school is already paying
back in the bids we're getting," finally, "this has been fun but also
risky." Then I heard them talking about bids from Argentina and Kenya, but
that they'd rather keep me local.

I wondered if all this was legal. Slaves get no legal representation, they
don't get any advice. But I knew there were limits on short-term
indentures. I didn't even know whether my stepdad had already done the
paperwork to extend my time as a slave. I felt desperate. This filled my
mind round the clock. Then one day I saw an opportunity to express my
concerns and I took it. I was kneeling in the backyard flower garden,
trimming shrubs, and I saw that our neighbor, Mr. Wilson, was in his yard
assessing the trees. He turned and tripped over a tree root. I instantly
ran to help him.

"Sir, Mr. Wilson, please don't try to move, sir," I said. "Can I call for
Kip?"

"Kip is out shopping," he rasped.

"Shall I help you to your feet, sir?"

He leaned on my shoulder the entire way through his backdoor and into his
kitchen. I sat him on a chair and got some things from his bathroom to
clean his face and to treat the little bruise on his forehead. I was
kneeling in front of him and he smiled down at me with a look of
recognition. "I remember what a fine lad you always were, Lucas."

He called me by my free boy name. I looked up at his eyes and asked,
"Please, sir, permission to speak? Permission to make a request... some
requests, sir?"

He nodded to me in a kindly way. I began, "Please, sir, would you inform my
master that I helped you so I don't get punished for shirking my job on my
master's property." He grinned indulgently as he texted my stepfather.

Then I took a deep breath and continued, "And, sir, I know this is out of
line and if you wish to punish me for saying this...."

He shook his head and said, "I should stop you right there, boy. I
shouldn't permit you to go any further. But, as it is, I never had a chance
to say goodbye to that nice neighbor lad, Lucas, when he became enslaved."
He took a long pause and then, "I give you 30 seconds to speak your mind,
slaveboy."

I took a deep breath and began, "Please, sir, I once before spoke to you of
my concerns that they said I was enslaved short-term for financial reasons,
but then they've been spending money on all sorts of things. I haven't
heard from my mother since the day I was enslaved. My stepfather had legal
guardianship of me when my mother went into the facility. There was never
anyone to review the indenture papers on my behalf. And now with their
plans to sell me...."

He held up his hand and said, "That will do, lad. Now we shall pretend this
conversation never happened."

I bowed my head to him, stepping away. I didn't know if he would report me
to my masters, or if he would just ignore what I said. All I knew was that
when I went back into the house that used to be my home, I felt more
hopeless than ever.

Cameron was extremely bratty during this whole process. He was angry that
his father was planning to sell me because he would be losing out on having
his very own slaveboy, his status symbol at school. Sometimes Mr. Strong
would yell at his younger son, "You could lose your own status if you're
not careful, young man."

My younger stepbrother became very tender and loving toward me most of the
time, but then he would lose his temper and find some excuse to beat
me. His father then became even angrier that Cam was leaving red marks on
my butt. "That's not how we want to display him for potential buyers."

One day when I was being prepared for a buyer, Mr. Strong saw bright red
stripes across my bottom. He grabbed Cameron, pulled down the boy's pants
and underpants, and started thrashing his buttcheeks with a strap, while
the buyer watched and groped his own crotch. I'd never seen a free boy
beaten that way. "Maybe I should sell you to this man instead?" my stepdad
shouted at his younger son. The white-haired buyer was smiling as he
stroked his fat boner through his slacks and ogled Cam's hairless ass.

This happened over a weekend, and I was supposed to return to school with
Cameron the next day. But Cameron never came up to his bedroom that
night. The following morning the house seemed quiet. No sign of Cameron. I
came down to the kitchen, not sure what to do. Mr. Strong just looked at me
and said, "Cameron has gone away for now." Then he ordered me to my knees
to suck his cock as it stuck down one leg of his boxers.

At least that meant I wasn't going to return to the school. But I kept
wondering where Cameron could have gone. It was mid-semester and he wasn't
finished with classes. Was it possible Mr. Strong had really sold his
younger son into slavery? Cameron wasn't legal age for full use
enslavement. A chill ran up my spine. I'd had suspicions about my stepdad
from the beginning. Now I wondered what the man was capable of doing.

The following weekend, Peyton stopped by the house to ask about
Cameron. Mr. Strong was very friendly to the boy as he explained that
Cameron had gone ahead to the lake where they would be vacationing over
spring break. He assured our neighbor that he was still welcome to come
along with the family for vacation. "Are you kidding, sir, first off my
bitch of a mother is going away to France with her latest boyfriend. Then
with all the great things you said about that lodge and the lake, I
wouldn't miss it for the world." After Peyton left, my stepdad just grinned
at his older son, who grinned back. I knew they were planning
something. What would happen to Peyton?

Then one day I was prepared for a buyer, but when I came to the living room
there was only my stepdad with Mr. Wilson. The older neighbor had a tablet
with him that he held up. He looked into the tablet and asked, "Can you get
a good view of the lad?"

My stepdad leaned in and asked, "You're sure this friend of yours is
willing to buy the boy without touching him in the flesh?"

"He trusts me," Mr. Wilson said. "And besides when you live somewhere
remote you do all such purchases online. All of the top slave dealerships
offer the service."

Mr. Strong held the tablet as Mr. Wilson squeezed and checked every muscle
group in my body. He smacked my ass and then had me bend over, with the
tablet close up to my ass crack. I had to reach back and spread my cheeks
as the older man fingered my bottom. It was odd, when I slept in his bed he
had never gone this far with me. But to display me for his friend he was
fingerfucking my bottom.

My stepdad helpfully stepped forward and looked into the tablet, saying,
"Would you like to see how eagerly the boy can drink piss?" Without waiting
for an answer, he opened his pants and pushed down his boxers so that his
cock was exposed. Then he shoved it into my mouth and gave a contented
murmur as he let a flood wash down my gullet.

A voice over the tablet asked, "How tight is his butthole? Cause I don't
want a slave that's all stretched out like a Las Vegas brothel boy."

My stepdad insisted that, although I wasn't a virgin, the family had been
stingy about sharing my ass. They didn't want me all stretched out in case
of re-sale. Mr. Wilson fingered my hole again and assured the man I was "as
tight as any teenage boy you could want."

There was a pause and then the disembodied voice said, "OK, Strong, what's
your price?"

My stepdad tapped something into his keyboard and said, "This is the
highest bid as of today. Bidding ends tomorrow at noon."

The man at the other end of the computer said, "The price I'm offering is
$10,000 higher than the price you gave me. But I'll go further and say I
will pay $10,000 higher than the highest bid you receive for the boy by
your deadline."

Mr. Strong chuckled with nervousness. "But what if the price is...?"

"I don't care," the computer voice interrupted. "I'm a very wealthy man and
I pay for what I want."

Mr. Wilson leaned in and softly said, "My friend is a man of his word. And
I assure you with his business interests he can easily pay any price on the
current slave market."

Meanwhile, the nameless man offered my stepdad a contract online. "Sign it
now and I'll stick to my honest commitment. $10,000 above your highest bid
at noon tomorrow."

I had never seen such a beatific look on my stepfather's face. He grinned
from ear to ear and just fell back into a plush sofa. Soon he and Shawn
were preparing me for travel. I was placed in a crate, a catheter over my
dick and a penis-shaped water spigot in my mouth. I was chained and could
see out through the wooden slats.

In that position, I saw Peyton come to the door of the house, his backpack
over his shoulder. Shawn was going to drive Peyton to this special vacation
spot on a lake in Tennessee. Peyton kicked my crate and laughed, "Wish I'd
gotten one last chance to stick it in this arrogant little dumb jock."
Mr. Strong reminded Peyton that they needed to deliver me to my new owner
without scratches or marks.

Soon the house was quiet. The slave transport people arrived and gave me a
shot in my butt. I knew it was something to make me relax and sleep during
the trip. Once jabbed, they put my cage into a crate. This wasn't barbaric
times. The crate had temperature control. It had waste disposal and a water
dispensing system. By the time I felt the crate moving, I was already
getting bleary-eyed. I sucked at the water and closed my eyes. I didn't
know how long the trip would take, or how far it would take me. And what
would I find when I got there?

Next thing I knew the crate was moving, being unloaded somewhere. I
wondered if I had fallen asleep for an hour or for 24 hours. I sensed that
the crate was being moved indoors. Then there was a strong man pulling it
open and revealing me. I had to shield my eyes from the light and couldn't
really focus.

I heard a gruff man's voice say, "Fuck. This was a 45 minute truck
ride. But they gave the boy enough sleeping meds for a cross-continental
flight." I felt a strong pair of arms lift me over a hairy shoulder. I was
hauled upstairs like a sack of laundry and laid face down onto a big
comfortable bed. The lights were lowered and I was left that way. My mind
tried to make sense of what I knew. I thought I was being sold to some man
who lived in a remote location, but it sounded like I was delivered to that
man just on the other side of town. My head was spinning so much, I had to
stop trying to figure out what was going on and just go back to sleep.

Next thing I knew I was laying on my tummy, naked and spread out on the
very large bed, and I felt a hand moving slowly around on my butt
cheeks. My face was stuffed in the pillow and I needed to wipe gunk from my
eyes. When I turned, the light was behind the man's head so I couldn't get
a good look at his features. But I could see he was a large man, with broad
shoulders, thick biceps, and a defined set of pecs. He was only wearing
boxer shorts, so my first thought was that I didn't know if he was a free
man or a slave. Then I saw that he was covered in a thick coat of hair, not
only on his chest and legs, but on his arms and even his shoulders. He
stepped forward and I could see he had a beard.

I started to scramble to my feet, tripping as I got out of the
bed. "M-m-master...? I'm so s-sorry, sir."

"Slave rest position, boy," the man said in a mellow but deep voice. Then
he took one more step toward me and I gasped. There was a picture that had
been in my mother's bedroom. It was her wedding day with my father, a
dark-haired square-jawed man, with fierce eyes. Here were those same eyes
looking down at me.

"Do you have anything to say, boy?" the man asked me, so close he was
breathing into my face.

I shook my head but then stammered, "Y-yesir, yes I do, sir. I just... I
want to say that I will work hard to be the very best slaveboy I could be,
sir." (An old slave who'd spoken to me in a store told me that was the
thing to always say in any situation.)

The man did not acknowledge that he was my father. Was I wrong? Was I
deluding myself? He lounged back on the bed and kept me standing at slave
rest as he asked me to tell him the story of my indenture. I started to
recount about my mom's new husband. I paused and said, "Please, sir, this
slaveboy isn't permitted to speak ill of any free person. If I told you my
mother had a problem with...."

"Ha," the man laughed loudly. "Your mother always had a problem with
alcohol and pills. I always figured she'd die way before this. That's why
Wilson next door has had my contact information all these years."

"D-d-da-ad? I mean... ummm, Master... Dad... Sir, which is it?"

He didn't answer me, but he gave me a pair of my own boxer shorts to wear
and put his arm around my shoulder to lead me to the kitchen. Was my father
here to save me? Was I going to be freed now? He sat me at the table and
gave me a bowl of soup. Well, I was sitting in a chair and eating real food
with real silverware, instead of eating slave chow on the floor. That was
something positive.

After my first taste of soup, I looked up and said, "Please, sir, my
mother... do you know...?"

He told me that when he'd heard from Mr. Wilson, he started his own
investigation. My mother had been sent to a horrible, filthy place with a
quack doctor who took a small amount of money while my stepdad pocketed the
rest. My real dad had already arranged to move my mother to a high-quality
facility and to have the quack doctor arrested.

"But, what about that man... my stepfather...?"

He told me that government agents were looking for my stepfather. But
"Mr. Strong" was a con man who'd used many identities over the years. He
saw my mom as an easy mark, a woman he could fleece out of money. But when
he got my mom to fall in love with him, he figured he could get his hands
on her entire estate, including me.

But none of that was what got my stepdad arrested. My real dad had set up
his deal with Mr. Strong, agreeing to pay $10,000 more than the final bid
price. He knew that a con man couldn't resist manipulating the price. While
the bid price had been $483,000 at the time of the deal, and might have
been expected to rise to 800,000 or even a million at the end, the final
bid turned out to be $2,990,000. Having manipulated the bids to get them
that high, Mr. Strong was guilty of fraud and was on the lam from the
cops. Once he was caught for that charge, there would be time for
government agents to investigate the man's many other wrongdoings. My
stepdad would live the rest of his life as a slave. I later heard he was
shipped to Africa where a drug lord enjoyed humiliating and degrading
him. Eventually he was sent to the mines.

In spite of all that my stepdad had done, it turned out that my indenture
was totally legal. He did have full guardianship of me at the time, and had
filed all the paperwork correctly. Due to other quirks in the law, I was
now the property of Maxim DeWinter, my real dad, even though the government
managed to return the $3-million dollars he had paid for me.

Eventually we learned that Shawn had brought our neighbor, Peyton, to a
lovely lake in Tennessee. But Peyton didn't know anything about geography
and didn't realize that when they went to the other side of the lake, they
were in the Black State of Alabama. On a trip around the lake, Peyton was
stricken with food poisoning. Shawn left the teen with a nice, respectable
black family. Although Peyton wasn't used to dealing with black people,
this family was wealthy and genteel.

But the following day when he felt better, the black family wouldn't let
him leave. They told him that Shawn had messaged them and told them to keep
Peyton at the house till he returned. When Peyton got suspicious of their
story, they locked him in a small room without any clothes, and slipped
trays of food under the door. Everyone knew that if a white boy spent more
than seven days inside the Black State of Alabama, the boy was
automatically indentured (and it didn't matter if the boy had been locked
up and unable to leave, seven days was seven days). Shawn never returned
for the younger teen. He was already heading north and counting the money
he'd gotten for setting up the white boy. He would change identities many
times after that and ended up jailed and indentured in South America where
they can be very rough with slaveboys.

By the time the authorities found Peyton, it was too late. He had been in
Alabama more than seven days and was sold to a big black industrialist who
had four grown sons, all of these men well over 6 feet tall and over 300
pounds. Peyton would be kept busy servicing all the males in that
family. Even though the boy was only in Alabama that long through trickery
and kidnapping, the law was the law. There was no freedom for the white
teen jock.

It turned out that Mr. Strong didn't have any real family. He just thought
it made him look more legitimate to be a widower with two sons. Shawn was
another con man. Cameron was a gay boy who ran away when he found out his
father was going to enslave him. Mr. Strong could have easily sold the boy
right away. But he became very fond of the teen and took him in as a lover
and an ersatz son. Eventually, when the man decided the boy was in the way
(and also a buyer conveniently appeared), Cameron was sold. The youth ended
up in a boy brothel in Las Vegas. I was told he was actually happy there,
with lots of older men making him feel wanted and appreciated (even if it
was only for his lips and ass).

My former neighbor, Mr. Wilson, was widowed soon after and then became more
dependent than ever on his slaveboy, Kip. Some years later when the old man
died, his will gave Kip his freedom and left the faithful slaveboy his
fortune.

# # #

Back to that first day when I was delivered to my dad. After I finished
eating, he had me stand at slave display so he could fully assess my
muscles. He and I were both dressed in just our boxer shorts. As he grabbed
around my body and squeezed one of my pecs, I felt his hard-on grind into
my butt cheek. My whole body tensed up.

Then he leaned in and was licking at my neck, leaving a lot of saliva. I
hunched my shoulder and said, "B-but, y-you're my dad... you c-can't... I
mean you sh-shouldn't, sir." He smacked my butt so hard it silenced
me. Then he grabbed me into his arms and carried me to his bed, tossing me
down so the breath was knocked out of me. Before I could get my bearings,
my father's big hairy body landed on top of mine.

His muscular arms were gripping fully around my slim form, pulling me
against his broad hairy chest. I was inhaling the scent of my own father's
chest and underarms, the big hairy man's sweat, and it was like I was
drunk. I started licking at his warm manly flesh. Soon after, his tongue
was deep in my throat. I thought I was going to choke on it the way he
rammed it against my tonsils.

My father's hands were toying with my smooth upturned ass. His fingers were
working around my hole, spreading me open, shoving in and out of me. Yet
none of it hurt. Then he looked into my eyes, went in for another kiss, and
shoved his huge cock all the way in me at the same time.

That was the moment when I was transformed. I felt my own dad's big fat
hairy balls against my butt cheeks, I felt his pubes tickling the backs of
my shaved balls. And I just started raising my hips from the bed and
pushing myself onto his big dick. Each time he slammed forward, I met his
thrust. I had been fucked by so many men before this. But none had made me
feel the way my own dad's cock did. He grunted like a crazed walrus and I
felt that missile dick slam in harder than before. I felt his hot cream
filling me up and shooting so fast it was spilling out of me.

But I gripped onto my dad's hairy back. "No, no... please, sir," I
grunted. "D-don't take it out. Not yet, sir."

Then I snapped out of my trance and looked into his eyes. I suddenly felt
embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry, sir. I didn't mean that. I mean, I'm not
gay. I've never liked taking dick up inside me..."

"Until now, son," he said as he kissed my lips tenderly. I just melted
against him and our kiss once again became passionate, our tongues
wrestling together. Soon dad was rolled onto his back, his arms up behind
his head, relaxing and grinning up at me as I fucked myself on his thick
dick. I was riding my dad's penis and howling with pleasure.

After he shot a second load up inside me, he held me and talked
softly. "I'm sorry, son...."

"It's OK, dad. You had to leave and have your own life and I know mom
was...."

"No, no," he corrected. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to take your cherry
myself, boy. But that goes to the reason I left and moved out to the Eureka
coast, son. Y'see, I've made quite a fortune in the slave trading
industry. I specialize in straight teen jock boys, especially the freshly
indentured."

Even with his cock still deep inside me, he pulled my face to his and
kissed me hard. "I was too tempted by you, son. I didn't trust myself. You
were young, but it was easy to see how cute you would be when you got
older, what a handsome young buck you were going to be in just a few more
years. And your body was already shaping up to be so hard and athletic,
Lucas. If I had stayed around I knew I would have been tempted sooner
rather than later.

"There are states where the age of indenture is younger, son. There are
countries where a father can indenture his son, and there are no
restrictions on use. I didn't have much ethics or many principles back
then, Lucas. It would have been too tempting to take you away to some
Pacific Island and make you my property and stick my fat cock into you back
when you were just...."

I didn't touch my cock but right at that moment it started to shoot a
fountain of spunk. I was impaled on my father's thick dick, my cheeks
squeezing at the root of his penis. My cock kept on spraying spunk in a way
I'd never seen before.

My father grinned up at me and said, "Maybe it would have been better if I
had stayed, son... and did all those nasty things to you." Then we both
burst out laughing.

I served out my indenture as my father's property in Eureka. During the day
I worked for his slave trading company, I took online college classes in
slave management, and at night I would strip down naked or to a slavejock
or a pair of free boy undies, and serve as my father's sex slave. I came to
worship his big hairy body, and he always knew how to make my body melt
with his touches and his cock. Sometimes he'd be rough and other times he
would be tender. But he knew how to make me go crazy.

Soon after I moved to his estate, my father had me breed with a cute young
slavegirl. Of course I sired in the traditional way, blindfolded and tied
up as my master slid my erection into the female. But later on when I saw
the girl I was surprised to see that her features were so similar to
mine. She gave birth to a son dad named Puppy. As the offspring of two
slaves, of course Puppy was born as a slave. But my father brought him into
the house and looked after him from a relatively young age, treating him
like a favorite pet.

When my indenture ended, nothing really changed. I continued working for my
father during the day, taking online classes, and serving as his sex slave
at night. Even now, after another decade has passed, I consider this
powerful man to be my master. Legally, I am a free man. But I will always
remain my father's property.

Just the other day I was massaging my dad's feet out by the swimming pool
when Puppy jumped in the water. Dad permitted the young slaveboy into the
pool, but of course the lad swam nude. As we both turned to watch the
youthful slaveboy swim laps, my father asked me, "How many more years till
he's legal age?"

I chuckled and said, "Oh, dad, you know I don't keep track of that sort of
thing."

"Doesn't matter, since I get first crack at him."

I raised my eyebrows and replied, "But, sir, I'm the boy's father.
Shouldn't I go first?"

"Yes, but I'm the boy's grandfather twice over. That slavegirl you
impregnated was also my daughter,"

I gasped and looked out at the cute boy showing his white buns as he swam
up and down the length of the pool.

# # #

THE END

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