Date: Sun, 2 Jan 2005 06:54:45 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 10

PLEASURE SLAVE, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories


Part 10

Jomo and I went back into the common room, and most of
the other guys had left, either to work out, or to lie
on one of the beds and doze.  We weren't allowed TV or
anything, as the prevailing view on slave management
was that slaves needed be focussed on their work, and
on pleasing their owners:  watching TV made them
potentially lazy, or to start to focus on other
things.  And, of course, the presence of foreign
programs from non-slave countries, where the policies
of the USA were held up to ridicule, gave some slaves
hope that one day their lot would change.  Some of
this stuff beamed into the USA caused huge offence, as
these places were often piss-poor and nothing like as
rich and sophisticated as we were, and yet they dared
to criticise us and called us uncivilised - Congress
was always talking about outlawing such subversive
foreign material.

Jomo and I went and got our ration of slave chow from
the machine, then sat next to each other at the table
- my ass was really sore now, and I had to lower
myself very carefully on to the bench!

"So, Steve, how long have you got, and what did you
do?"

"I've just started ten years.  And I didn't do
anything... It was all a mistake..."

"We all think that, Steve!  It's been the story of the
prisoner ever since there were courts and trials and
such..."

"Well, in my case, it's true!  But my lawyer said it
was hopeless to fight it, and I'd better just buckle
down and do my ten years of servitude, as I'd still
only be thirty eight when I was free again.  They
didn't tell me about the 'skinning, ringing and
tattooing..."

"Yes, most of the indentured servants have a problem
going back into society.  Jobs are hard enough to come
by these days, wither the stigma of having been a
slave.  It makes you think it's all a trick."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Steve, if you're released you soon get through
the thousand a year that your owner has had to put
into that special account for you.  Then, assuming you
had no assets when you started and that's all you've
got, you soon burn your way through it - new clothes,
a place to stay, food, bus fares to job interviews...
Before you know where you are, you're broke.  And
then, of course...."

He stopped, and so I asked "...and then what?"

"Surely you know there's no social security for freed
indentured servants?  That's one of the changes they
made to the law when the whole thing was brought in.
So you have to beg, or sell your body for sex - not
that that's much of a problem for us!  But sooner or
later, you're really destitute... And then the only
way out is another period of servitude!  They call it
'voluntary', of course, but it's all the same.  I
think you know all about 'voluntary' agreements once
you're indentured?   I bet that doctor did the same
thing about your dick as he does about all the
others?"

"You mean you have to agree to a period of servitude
again?"

"No, you don't have to.  But if you're in Chicago or
somewhere, broke, hungry, and it's the middle of
winter, what else do you do?  Freeze to death on the
streets?"

"And what then?"

"At the end of that period, you've got the same
choices, basically....  So once a guy has been
enslaved, even if the sentence is only ten years, like
yours, lucky guy, then unless you're exceptionally
lucky, you're in for life."

I must confess I was shocked by all of this.  I'd
thought that I'd go back to my old life, pick up where
I left off, meet my old buddies again, get a job....
I was expecting to get a lower salary and have to work
my way up again, but it couldn't be all that
difficult, surely.  But if Jomo was right, and I
suspected that he was, then I was effectively a slave
for life, except for very brief patches of "remission"
whilst I burned up the money that had been saved for
me.  And I guess I could see the kind of problems
looming  - would an employer want me, a convicted con
who'd been a slave for ten years, and whose knowledge
was ten years out of date, or would he prefer a bright
young guy fresh with new knowledge, straight from
college?

"Is that what's going to happen to you, Jomo?"

"I guess so, Steve.  I got fifteen years, the day
after my sixteenth birthday.  I'm twenty eight now,
been slaving for twelve years, so in three years time
I'll have a little break, then I'll be a slave again."

"Hey, man, what did you do on your birthday, to get
that sentence?"

"Nothing!  Nothing at all!"

"Aw, come on, they can't enslave anyone, not even a
nigga, for doing nothing."

"Well, I suppose I was breaking the law, strictly
speaking, but I'd been doing the same thing for a long
time.... I mean, I had been banging my girlfriend from
school for at least a couple of years, since we were
both fourteen, I suppose.  But they waited until I was
sixteen before they dragged me to court, as they can't
enslave you until you're sixteen, and I don't suppose
anyone really cares about a horny teenager fucking
away - but they do need slaves.  So on the day after
my birthday they just knocked at the door just as I
was about to leave for school, threw me in the back of
the police cruiser, and drove me to the town
courthouse.  Mind you, I guess they might have been
watching me all the time, knowing what I was doing was
against the law, and they waited deliberately, so they
could enslave me - they always need fresh slaves,
after all, and strong young guys are getting harder to
find these days."

"I was in court at ten, when it started, and sentenced
five minutes later - it was a pretty open and shut
case, as I didn't deny it - well, it hadn't occurred
to me that it was much of a problem, as she didn't
object - far from it:  she couldn't get enough of my
dick!  Fifteen fucking years of Indentured Service,
just like that.  They stripped me, there and then - a
lot of folk go to those early morning court sessions,
you know, as they like to look at the bodies of the
newly enslaved.  And five minutes later I was in the
cells underneath, stark naked and on my knees, sucking
the dicks of the guards - it was one of their "perks"
they said, as they fucked my mouth - to be able to get
first use of guys like me who hadn't taken dick
before."

"Out town had a contract with the local big farmer,
and so I wasn't even auctioned.  Later that morning
the farm truck came and just took me away - still buck
naked, they just took me out, and chained me in the
back of the pickup.  It was lunchtime as we went past
my school, and I saw all my classmates staring at me
as we stopped at the lights by the gates.  I saw my
girlfriend start to cry as we drove away, as she knew
she wasn't going to get my dick again."

"I was just a labourer on the farm, and so there was
nothing special to be done to me.  As soon as I
arrived they collared me and then took me out to the
fields and fastened me into a coffle with nineteen
others, and that was my life for the next seven
years!"

"You mean seven years on the farm, Jomo?"

"Yes, but not only seven years on the farm - seven
years chained in that fucking coffle!  All twenty of
us, day and night.  We were never let off it, as they
said it was impossible for twenty naked guys chained
together to escape.   We went out in the morning to
the fields and worked all day - it was a fruit farm,
and there was always lots to do:  mostly with the
strawberries.  We hoed them, weeded them, on our hands
and knees, picked them, took out the old plants, put
in new stock.... There was always something to do, as
in the heat we got four or five crops a year.  They
said it was the easiest and cheapest way to grow fruit
- you didn't need any fancy equipment as a coffle of
twenty naked guys could do it all with much less
expense."

"They didn't treat us badly - well, they hardly
treated us any way at all, just considered us to be
like animals.  We never got any clothes or anything,
we were fed slave chow of course, and one guard could
supervise us all easily - he just walked along, up and
down the coffle, using the tawse on any of us who he
thought were slacking:  it was easy to see ,as if you
didn't work hard enough you fell behind the others,
and the line was no longer straight!  It was always
the same - seven days a week, always chained together,
day and night.  The only time there was any variation
was when one of the guy's period of servitude was up
and he was released from the coffle.... Or, of course,
when a new guy like me was added."

"It was really tough at first - it's backbreaking
work.  But in the first week I got introduced to
proper sex by my coffle-mates.  I mean, when we were
in the slave stables at night there wasn't anything
else to do but fuck each other, was there?  And there
was no escaping it, as we were all chained together.
They all used my virgin sixteen year old ass, and it
wasn't until I had been there about a year and had put
on a bit of muscle that I was able to overpower one of
them and fuck him."

"Did they really keep you chained up, naked, all the
time?  Surely they gave you proper work wear...?"

"Don't be so fucking naive, Steve!  Even a pair of
shorts costs something to buy, then there's the
laundry costs and so on.   They were only interested
in producing their fruit at the lowest price, and the
cheap way of keeping farm slaves is to have them
naked.  The human hide is a good all-weather covering,
after all, and as when it gets dirty in the fields,
it's pretty easy to clean it...  And we got a lot of
rain there in the wet months, and wet shorts would
chafe you, but your skin's fine, once you've got used
to the incessant feel of the raindrops on your skin.
We were never allowed to stop work just because it was
raining or anything.  And, of course, being totally
naked, it was easier for the guard to tawse our butts.
 And yes, we were never unchained from the coffle - as
I said, it made it really easy to control us, and they
didn't need a lot of guards."

"So how did you get here?"

"It turns out I was there for seven years - not that I
knew that at the time, as every day was absolutely the
same, and we had no TV or anything.  They didn't even
stop the work at Thanksgiving or anything - it was
considered to be better for slaves to lead an ordered
life, with everything the same, so that they always
knew what was going on.  We knew the seasons changed,
of course, as in summer we were cooked by the heat
(and the flies!), and in winter we had to work that
bit harder to keep warm, and it was also the rainy
season, but I really lost track of how many winters
and summers.  Still, one day a travelling slave dealer
came by and inspected us all:  I'd put on a lot of
muscle by then, with the unrelenting hard work and
because I guess I'd matured, gone from being just a
boy, and turned into a real man.  The dealer liked
what he saw - I've got a big dick and am well hung, as
you know - so he made the farmer an offer, and that
was that:  they just released my collar form the
coffle chain, he led me over to his truck and chained
me in, and we drove off.  No goodbyes, no nothing -
well, I had no possessions or anything to leave behind
anyway."

"It was real scary at first as I'd spent all that time
on the farm, with a never-changing routine.  And so as
we drove along I had to get used to seeing different
things, and different people, again.  It turns out
that the dealer  was buying 'on commission' for a guy
who wanted a well-hung nigga for his personal
pleasure, and of course I was well versed in sex by
then.  Mind you, I didn't much like to have to go back
to being fucked, as on the coffle, as I got stronger,
I'd mostly fucked the others."
"I needn't have worried, though.  The guy who bought
me was some kind of fancy executive in a big company,
with a big house, a wife, two kids... It turned out
that for his recreation he liked to be fucked by a
nigga!  I had a room in the basement, that opened
directly from the garden.  When he'd finished all his
long distance calls at night, had dinner, and so on,
he'd come down there and I had to fuck him - well,
actually I had to order him to strip, then order him
to kneel down and worship my big black dick.  I'd slap
him around a bit - not so much so that he got bruised
or anything, so his wife would know, and then I'd fuck
him."

"The first time it happened I was scared that it was
some sort of ploy to really get me into trouble - I
mean, a slave fucking his owner!  And a nigga fucking
a white man!  But I gradually came to realise that
this was the guy's way of turning off:  he spent his
whole life ordering things around at the office and
running this big business, and so for fun he liked to
be ordered around and controlled - it was such a
change from 'real' life for him to be down there in
the basement, with me totally in charge.  The rest of
the time, of course, he was my owner, and a pretty
hard master, too:  my job was to keep all the grounds
neat, the lawns cut, the pool clean, all that sort of
stuff - it was a real big place, and on the weekends
he'd inspect it all, and if there was as much as a
blade of grass out of place, he'd beat me.  He seemed
to like punishing me, hard, for small failures in my
work, as if that somehow made up for the humiliation
he suffered at night.  Even if his wife and daughters
were there, he'd make me strip, bend over a garden
bench or something, and then cane my ass."

I guess I'd still be there today, but he was promoted
to be some sort of Vice President of his company,
based in Europe, and they don't allow slaves to be
imported there, or perhaps they don't allow slaves at
all - I don't really know.  So he sold me - but it
turns out that when he was away on business he
occasionally used to come here, and he talked to them
and got a good price for me as I was such a big guy,
who knew all about fucking.  And I've been here ever
since."

"So you've only got three more years to do, Jomo.
What then?"

"Well, I guess I'll end up as a slave again, as I'm
not educated, or trained for any proper work.  There's
not much opportunity for guys like me these days, as
slaves now do all the grunt work. So when I've spent
my savings, I'll be on social security, and then if I
still haven't found work within six months, the bureau
will apply for me to have another period of indentured
service..."

"That's terrible..."

"No, Steve, that's the reality of it.  You may be OK,
with a college degree and everything, but for a guy
like me, there's no chance.  And, actually, you may
find it hard - with all the manufacturing gone to
China, all the high-tech stuff going to India, there's
a lot of college guys chasing very few jobs.  Why
would anyone employ an ex-slave, when he could have an
'honest' guy - a lot of employers think that all
ex-slaves must have committed a crime, you know."

As he said this, Jomo turned away slightly, and looked
kind of embarrassed.  "Sorry, Steve - I forgot.  You
were enslaved for a crime, weren't you?  Not like
me..."

"No, Jomo, I didn't do anything...."

"Hey, Steve, if we're going to be friends, no
bullshit, OK?  I know all you cons always say you're
innocent."

All of a sudden I felt so tired and depressed.  It all
struck home at me - I'd been arrested and tried for
something I didn't do, enslaved, ringed, tattooed,
'skinned, fucked.... And now other guys wouldn't
believe it wasn't my own fault for doing wrong in the
first place.  The awful realisation was starting to
dawn that I might be a slave for the rest of my life -
what Jomo had said about jobs and stuff was right, I
knew.  I'd been if favour of clearing the dropouts and
social security claimants off the streets, and making
them indentured servants had seemed like a good thing
to do to keep the taxes of "decent guys" down - but
now it looked as if I was going to be one of those
guys once my sentence was finished, I began to see how
unfair the system could be.

Jomo had been watching me, and I guess he saw me kind
of slump.  "Hey, Steve, man.... I didn't mean to call
you a con...."

"It's OK... I'll tell you all about it one day.  But
I've just gone so fucking tired..."

I got up from the table, and the weariness that had
come over me almost made me stumble.  All I wanted to
do was go to sleep, in a proper bed, not some sort of
cage.... There were all the beds, but which was mine?
So I asked Jomo.

"Whichever one is free, Steve.  We don't have
allocated beds.  You just choose one that's empty....
Or....", and a big grin spread across his face as he
said this.... "One that's already occupied, but where
you fancy the guy."

"But what about the sheets and stuff?"

"Look, Steve, I can tell you haven't been a slave for
very long!  You don't get to sleep in your own sheets,
or clean sheets, now.  Just take pot luck on whatever
is on the bed you choose.  Most of us shower before we
turn in, so they're usually OK - except for the hard
patches, of course."

"Hard patches?"

"Steve, where have you been all your life?  You know,
the hard patches where your cum dries!  We're all
adults here, so we've all got juices flowing; and even
if you like eating your own cum, some of it always
spills onto the sheets.  Just ignore the hard patches.
 Now, shall we bunk together tonight?  I know you
won't want me to fuck you as you're probably sore, but
you can fuck me again if you like - my nigga ass just
loves white dick...."

"You mean we're allowed to fuck each other...?"

"Yes, of course, if we're not working.  The management
likes us all to keep in good form, and you know how it
is with your tackle - 'use it or lose it', as the
saying goes:  the more you fuck, the more you need to
fuck every day, and they want you always ready for a
client, if you're selected."

"No, but thanks.  I'd dog tired....."

I didn't want to upset Jomo so I didn't say that I
really didn't want to fuck him, or be fucked by him...
Or anyone, for that matter.  I looked around a bit
desperately, found an empty bed and, praying that the
sheets would be reasonably clean, got in.  Then there
was a problem, of course - I mean, we all get
erections as we start thinking about sleeping, don't
we?  And as I lay there I was incredibly uncomfortable
as my shorts were so amazingly tight, so I wriggled
around a bit and pushed them down so they were around
my knees, and my dick did at least then feel
comfortable as it was free.

Every one of us has probably shared sleeping quarters
with another guy at some time - brothers, cousins,
sleep-overs when we were at school, or on a vacation
or sports tour... And so I guess we all know the
problem I now had.  I was lying there with several
other guys sleeping around me, and I desperately
wanted to jerk myself off.  I don't care how careful
you are, there's always some of that characteristic
noise though, isn't there?  When I'd been on a sports
tour with some of my buddies I'd lain awake for hours,
waiting for them to start snoring so that I knew they
were asleep before I could jerk off, and I guess I
needed to do the same thing here - after all, we all
know we jerk off, but we usually don't like other guys
to know we're actually doing it, do we?  But in this
case I needn't have bothered - two guys in a bed three
down from mine were making so much noise as they
fucked that any faint slapping noises from my hand on
my dick would never have been heard!

I couldn't believe they could be so casual about it -
with all us other guys around they were moaning and
throwing themselves around just as if they were in
some totally private place.  They evidently didn't
care at all.  So I lay there and jerked away at my
dick, and as I shot, I was so fucking tired I just
stopped worrying about the mess I was making on the
sheets - I had indeed felt some of those little hard
patches we all get on our sheets as my body had slid
in, and I suppose I thought that if it was OK for
other guys to do this in the communal beds, then it
would be OK for me too.

I didn't sleep well that night, though - guys kept
coming in throughout the night (as they finished work
with their clients, I suppose).  And then there were
all the normal noises that a group of guys bunking
make together - the snoring, little whiffles, farts,
and the occasional cries that you make in your sleep
when you're dreaming... And  all that was in addition
to several loud bouts of fucking that went on.  As
usually happens, though, I fell into a deep sleep just
before it was time to get up, and I woke as someone
slapped my naked ass - hard!

Coming awake suddenly like that you're completely
disoriented, and I sat bolt upright, wondering where
the fuck I was - until I suddenly remembered, as I saw
the other beds, some with guys still in them, like me,
now waking.  The big black guy, Jomo, was standing
over me, and he'd evidently stripped the sheet off me
as I was naked, my shorts bunched around my ankles,
and my dick stiff with its morning hard-on.

"Come on, Steve - early morning exercises!  Or shall I
slap your ass again to get you properly awake?"

I went to cover myself, feeling my erection sticking
out like that, but what was the point?  I mean, Jomo
had seen me like that before, and as I watched the
other guys starting to shuffle down the room, most of
them had their dicks swinging hard in front of
themselves, too.  I knew I was going to have to adapt,
and get used to this new way of thinking about my
body, especially my dick, and about sex.

Some guys seem to spring awake, don't they?  They're
"early birds", but me, and most of the other slaves
there, were more "night owls" as given the choice we'd
have slept in.  So as we stood there in the showers
rubbing the sleep from our eyes, conversation was
really subdued and was mostly just grunts of greeting
and short enquiries bout last night's clients.  The
four lavatory bowls were in almost constant use as
guys emptied their bowels, but it seemed that if you
just wanted to piss, it was perfectly OK to do that in
the showers - I got that pungent whiff of piss and hot
water, turned around, and saw the guy next to me
standing there perfectly unconcerned, pissing away as
he soaped his arms.  I mean, the stuff was splashing
off the tiled floor and drops were landing on me!  I
was going to call him a dirty fucker, as you would if
anyone did that in the showers normally, but the other
guys around me seemed unconcerned and it was lucky I
didn't say anything, I suppose - I didn't want to be
thought of as unsophisticated, or to be seen not to
know what was the right way to behave.

The rest of that day fell into the pattern that was to
be the same for the next couple of years - an hour of
hard exercise, stop to eat my breakfast of slave chow,
another hour of exercise, then any work needed to
maintain the body - haircut, nail clipping, time on
the sun-bed as slave bodies were considered better if
tanned, a visit to the doctor, or whatever.  Then
lunch, followed by more exercise if my "quota" hadn't
been filled, then another shower, and the obligatory
late afternoon enema and lubing, ready for any
assignments there might be with clients.

I didn't have clients in that first month, so the late
afternoon and evening were my own.  I soon found out
that the regime was very liberal there - if you
weren't "on duty" waiting for clients or with clients,
and had fulfilled your exercise quota, your time was
your own.  There wasn't actually much to do as no TV
or books or anything was allowed, but you could sit
around talking to the other guys, or sleep, or fuck if
you wanted to (provided you were not on duty that
night ,when you were expected to save yourself).  I
soon discovered that there were no restrictions on you
leaving Slaves For Your Pleasure providing it was your
"free" time, and I love to run, so I'd just go down
the ten flights of steps to the street, then run for
an hour or so through the city parks and running
trails.

The first day I did it I nearly gave up in
embarrassment - most of the other guys you see in the
parks in the city centre are young businessmen keeping
themselves in shape in their lunch breaks, and they
have that typical clean-cut "corporate" look, and wear
expensive kit.  And there I was - obscenely tight
brief shorts, my dick outlined and my pubic hair
spilling over the waist band, and with just a tiny
running vest which I was allowed if going outside the
building - so short it didn't meet the top of my
shorts, and so thin and cut away that the tattoos on
my chest and back were visible.  They could all see my
collar, of course, and my ankle and wrist cuffs
flashed in the sunlight as I ran.  I'd see guys coming
in the other direction and as they got closer they'd
turn away in embarrassment, and I'd hear remarks like
"Fucking slaves - out here in the park.  You'd think
their owners would keep them under proper control!
And look at that one, with that disgusting nose ring -
it's an affront to decent folk to have to look at
things like that!"

Of course if I was on a narrow trail I was expected to
give way to any free men coming the other way, running
off the trail as they approached and only rejoining it
when they'd gone. Slaves always give way to free men
in corridors, on footpaths and trails and in places
like that.

The first time I went out was almost the last, I was
so ashamed of my appearance and the remarks I got, but
I soon realised that I needed do it, to be out and
about in the "real" world, away from the artificial
lighting and air-conditioning, and the other slaves
who were, like me, sexual playthings.

That first month, though, I wasn't expected to go with
clients.  As I've told you, I had a list of all the
slaves and I was expected to tick off when I'd jerked
off with them, sucked them, and fucked them, and when
they'd done the same thing to me.  After my initial
experiences I just didn't know where to start - and so
I did nothing:  for two days I just worked out, ran,
chatted to the other guys, and slept.  On the third
day, as I was sitting there after "dinner", one of the
slaves I was talking to, a nice well-proportioned
blond guy called Ray, said causally "So shall we fuck,
Steve?  They're still waiting for my tests, so I'm not
working tonight..."

"Tests?"

"Yes - I had a client last night, so they took blood
and a dick swab this morning, and until the test
results come back, I can't go with another client so
I'm free tonight.... So shall we fuck?  I'm allowed to
go with other slaves, provided I know which ones, in
case the tests are bad and they need to test the other
slave, too."

"What's it all about?"

"Oh come on, Steve!  Our clients want to have good,
clean, safe, fun.  So they guarantee to them that
we're clean - disease-free.  That's why they test us
after every client, and why this place is so expensive
- you really only get to fuck with one client every
two days, not four a night as you might if you were a
regular rent boy."

"I thought they said that condoms stopped all that..."

"Well who want s to fuck in a condom? It's like
showering in a raincoat!  And all that tearing open of
packets and stuff - it destroys all the spontaneity.
No, all our clients like riding us bareback, and so
they take all these precautions."

"But what if the tests fail?"

"Tough on us!  Most of the clients are respectable
married men, so there's not much risk.  But if you
catch something form one of them, it's a problem for
Master Jed and Master Brett as they then can't use us,
and so they have to sell us, usually at a loss.  But
don't worry about it - it hardly ever happens - and
once you've fucked bareback, you're never going to
want to wear a condom!"

I sat there thinking about this, and Ray went on "So
shall we fuck?  You needn't worry about catching
anything from me - my client last night was a regular,
someone I've been with lots of times before."

"Hey, no, Ray, thanks for the offer...."

"Steve, when I came here first, I had a real problem.
I had to fuck my around all the other guys, and I
didn't like to... So I ran out of time, and Master Jed
had me whipped.  You're not being stupid, are you?
It's going to happen, you know, so why make it
difficult for yourself?  This is your third day, isn't
it?  How many of the guys have you been with, how many
ticks have you got on your sheet?"

"I'm doing OK...", I said, very quietly, and kind of
looking away as I avoided his gaze.

"Steve, you're not, are you?  What's the problem -
don't you like sex?"

"Yes, of course I do...  I'm a man - all men like
sex!"

"No, Steve, I mean proper sex - sex with another guy.
You didn't do that before you came here, did you?  And
Master Brett was the first guy you'd ever had, when he
took your cherry?"

"Yes."  I felt a flush of embarrassment sweeping over
me, colouring my shoulders and face.  I just wasn't
used to talking about sex like this.

"So you don't really know what to do, do you?  Come
on, let me show you... You don't want to get that hide
of yours torn to shreds by Master Jed's whip at the
end of the month...."  As he said this he put out his
hand, to take mine, and pull me gently to my feet, to
lead me over to a spare bed.

End Of Part Ten