Date: Fri, 14 Oct 2016 02:51:27 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo.com>
Subject: UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE CLASS

In the new America, 18-year-old boys can be enslaved. Therefore, the
government has introduced a class for 16-year-old boys to learn about
indenture. These boys cannot be used for actual sex, but they can be ogled,
prodded, examined, or fondled. In later chapters, the age of indenture is
lowered, the teacher owns one of his former students as a slaveboy, and
there is actual oral and anal sex between them.


Understanding Modern Indenture Class
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 an erotic man/teen story. If that offends you or you're breaking
some law by reading it, go away now. Also, if you have trouble telling
fantasy from reality, please stop reading this, go away and get help.

It is also a gay slaveboy story, set in a society in which cute young men
are sold to be pleasure slaves. There is dominance/submission,
bondage/discipline, enforced nudity, and boy humiliation. It's set in a
future world where enslavement of good looking young men is standard and
older men dominate.

This is also a political satire. Is our world headed for a time when
good-looking young people are considered commodities and merchandise to be
monetized? Or are we already in that world?

# # #

THE SETUP:

The government of the Great North Plains Federation of States profits from
selling the best looking and most athletic 18-year-old boys as pleasure
slaves. To help ease and encourage this transition for the most desirable
teenage boys, schools offer Understanding Modern Indenture Classes in their
junior year of high school.

In this story we hear from one of the first UMI instructors. He developed
curriculum with the assistance of the Institute for Slave Management, and
works cooperatively with local slave dealers and trainers. In this story he
speaks frankly about the history and practices of his class, as well as the
outcomes for certain boys. As the year progresses there are unexpected
surprises that have a big impact on him and on the boys in his class.

Our esteemed educator likes to say: "I will not have sex with any
student. I could never break the law in that way. I can however strip,
ogle, and feel up a good looking boy, in the interest of his education."

I welcome other authors who want to write stories set in the Understanding
Modern Indenture universe.

DONATE TO NIFTY! KEEP THESE STORIES COMING! (Hey, guys, seriously -- I
wouldn't have written this story if Nifty didn't exist to publish it!)

# # #



As told by the esteemed Dr. Franklin Handleypioneer in the curriculum for
Understanding Modern Indenture and friend to the Slave Trading Industry



CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION OF UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE

I've been teaching Understanding Modern Indenture classes ever since they
were first introduced in our Great North Plains high schools. For the past
15 years I've taught three sections of High School Civics during the
week. On Saturdays I teach a day-long workshop for 16-year-old boys to
learn about our modern system of indenture.

This last year I began with 18 boys in my UMI class. They were the best
looking young bucks in their junior year of our school (with a few older
sophomores for good measure). Though there was a variety of body types --
from football players to gymnasts -- all of them had tight, fat-free
bodies, with flat tummies and nicely-curved butts. Since this program
began, those are the boys who've been assigned to take UMI.

I actually started as a Civics teacher almost 30 years ago. At that time
the legislature had just passed the Enslavement Laws, with wide public
support. The idea was that criminals should not be a drain on society's
finances. Having them serve as slaves, they would be earning their keep as
well as bringing profits to our government. I remember the first time one
of our then-current students got enslaved. He was a senior, a boy who was
often in trouble at school. I took my Civics students to watch this young
buck being packed into a cage for shipment to Eureka (that was before I
started teaching UMI).

The year after that a very different kind of boy got indentured. Robbie was
president of our student body and captain of our baseball team. He was a
scout who volunteered for charitable causes. But he got drunk one night and
ran his car into a tree. The boy who was in the car with him lost a leg. So
Robbie was indentured for life and everyone was shocked. When they decided
to sell the boy locally because of his fame in the community, of course
there was a big crowd to watch Robbie's auction. He shivered up there,
stripped to his free boy underpants, hands cuffed to his metal collar. The
auctioneer kept showing off Robbie's best features, repeatedly tugging down
Robbie's briefs to reveal his perfect little bubble butt. Robbie was sold
to a little rinkydink boy brothel in Capitol City. Don't know what happened
to him after that. It's a shame he ended that way, he had so much
potential.

It took some people a few years to get used to this new arrangement. But
soon it became part of the fabric of our society. In the first few years of
having indentured servants, men might have been coy about the subject of
using slaveboys for sexual release. But soon enough, men were just winking
at each other and it was all understood. Some of our more enterprising
local dads would sometimes bring their sons to the swimming pool in the
Gaytown section of Capitol City. They would buy drinks for the gays and
talk about when their sons would turn 18 and be legal for sale. Some would
ask frankly about value assessments for their boys. For some families, the
values of their progeny were so low, it just wasn't worth it to indenture
those boys.

Then, after everyone had gotten used to the way things worked, the
legislature revisited the Enslavement Laws about ten years later and
changed them to the Indenture Laws -- they determined that the word
"Indenture" had fewer negative connotations than enslavement. They wanted
to make indenture a more attractive option for middle class families.
Remember, if your son was convicted of a crime and sentenced to lifetime
indenture, your family would be destitute because you would have to pay
court expenses. But if you signed up your son for a voluntary indenture,
you and your family could earn a lot of money.

At that time there was talk about expanding the laws to include indenture
for those in debt. The way it worked in fact was that families with debts
would sell their sons into indenture. By the time the legislation passed,
families didn't even need to be in debt -- any father had the right to sell
his son into voluntary indenture. (The boy may not have been volunteering,
but the family was volunteering him on their behalf.) A family could profit
handsomely from sending a good looking son into service for a five year
contract, even more for a ten-year contract.

But after that went into effect, they found the young bucks being
indentured were often malnourished, with poor hygiene, the offspring from
the lowest rungs of society. There was still resistance from a lot of
middle class families who feared that turning their sons into indentured
servants would make them appear needy or desperate for money. The
government's ad campaign was designed to combat those fears.

The advertisements originally featured the Nash family (though many other
families have done testimonials since that time). They were real people who
lived in one of our territory's largest cities, and they had a big,
beautiful home, so clearly they had money. Mrs. Nash showed a picture of
their older son, Alex, and told the camera what a bright and good looking
boy he had been. Alex was one of the few in our part of the continent to be
accepted into a college. But right before he was to start classes, he got a
younger girl pregnant. Premarital sex was a serious crime where we lived,
and an 18-year-old boy having sex with a 16-year-old girl was a very
serious offense. Of course Alex became an indentured servant. By the time
the mother finished telling this story, she was on the verge of tears.

Then the father showed a picture of their second son, Billy, a very cute
boy who'd just turned 18. He told how scared the family was for Billy after
his older brother was enslaved. "How can you keep a boy safe during the
dangerous years?" he asked the camera. Then some big doctor was on the
screen explaining how the years from 16-24 were the most dangerous years, a
time when young men took too many risks. He put it in all sorts of
psychological and medical terms, but essentially it's the time in life when
a guy is ruled more by his dick than by his brains.

Mr. Nash came back on the screen, his wife at his side, saying, "How can we
protect our son during the dangerous years?" Then you see the younger son,
Billy, come out in a slave collar and slave shorts, his wrists cuffed to
the D-rings on his collar. His body was hairless and glistening. It's the
same cute boy seen in the photograph at the beginning of the commercial,
but now he was flanked by two heavy set middle aged men who smiled at the
camera and said, "And he's been sold to us in Eureka."

Back to the Nashes and dad was clearly reading from a teleprompter saying,
"It brings money into our home, gets young Billy started for his future,
and it keeps Billy locked up and under control during these dangerous
years." His wife waved a flag and added, "And it helps our economy." So now
the government had made it clear that signing up your son for indenture was
the patriotic thing to do. Families that had more than one son were
encouraged to indenture one of them. A favorite phrase became, "Send the
cute one to Eureka, so you can send the smart one to college."

The public caught on surprisingly fast. We are a confederation of
nation-states here in the Great North Plains. Some have large land areas,
but all have small populations and a lot of open space. Except for the
industrial use slaves (as I said, the older, the uglier), there hadn't been
a lot of personal service slaves where we lived. But they were becoming
more commonplace. Of course any resort or hotel would be staffed by
slaveboys. And of course these slaveboys were available for personal
services with any hotel guest, for an additional hefty fee.

I visited my supermarket and they had switched to three new bagboys, each
one stripped to slave collars and slave shorts. As you might expect, I
recognized all three of these young bucks as my former students. I was most
surprised to see Tommy, a redheaded boy who had been in UMI class less than
two years earlier. Tommy's father was manager of this supermarket.

The older man explained to me that the corporation that owned this chain of
markets had given him funding to purchase three slaveboys as an
experiment. He chose to purchase his own son with that corporate money. I
quietly reminded him that the government was cracking down on "sham
enslavements," where a relative would take ownership of a slaveboy and let
the young buck live a free life. The supermarket manager assured me that
was not happening with Tommy. He confided in me that he himself had broken
in his redheaded son for sex. Then he told me that all three of the bagboys
were available for rental after the supermarket closed. He said that
because I had done such a wonderful job preparing Tommy for his role as a
slaveboy, he wanted me to have a freebie with the boy. I took him up on the
offer and found that Tommy was an enthusiastic sex partner, eager to
please.

Six months later, the supermarket chain decided they would maximize income
from their slaveboy staff if they rotated the boys between stores. So Tommy
and the others were shipped off to some other location, and our local
market received three beauties from the Helena store. Although the manager
offered me a free session with any of the new boys, I demurred.

While there were more slaveboys being used locally, the big money came in
trading with the Gay State of Eureka. Eureka was a wealthy nation, where
education and entrepreneurship were valued. And they were the ideal trading
partner for our barren region. By that time, most of our natural resources
had been sucked dry so the best money we could get was by exporting our
good looking boys.

The message to moms and dads out there (but mostly to dads since we lived
in a totally patriarchal country): After a five-year stint as a Personal
Services Indentured Servant, your family will have enough money for a new
car, your freed son will have enough money to go to school or start a
business, and you will have contributed to the financial growth of the
Great North Plains Federation of States. In short, we were all told to
"Sell Your Sons to Contribute to the GNP."













CHAPTER 2: CURRICULUM FROM THE INSTITUTE OF SLAVE MANAGEMENT

We are the only high school in our nation-state, though there are smaller
K-8 schools scattered about. There is one small college for four
nation-states, and various trade schools. With so much land but so little
population, some of our students board with local families during the week,
and return to help on their family's property over the weekend. Since UMI
class was held on Saturdays, these boys could only visit home on Sundays,
so families were compensated with some money for their boy's time. It may
seem altruistic on the part of our institute, but we want the parents to
start thinking of their sons as something easily monetized.

That's now become a totally accepted idea: That your son is a commodity --
a commodity that could be of profit to you as a parent. Also that there are
people on the coasts of our country who might pay a lot of money (well, it
was a lot of money in our local economy) for five years of using the
boy. Or to put that in a way local dads liked to say to each other: The
Sphincter is a Very Resilient Muscle.

On top of all that, your son will come back after the five years as a
disciplined, focused young man with a fit well-muscled body, and an
understanding of hard work. Of course, not all boys returned at the end of
their five year indenture. Soon after the advertising campaign began, the
father of our school's top jock sold his son as a slave in Eureka. The boy
was proud of the sacrifice he was making for his family and community, and
assured his friends he would see them in five years' time. But four years
into the boy's term of service, the father had a stroke and was
hospitalized. Since the father remained in a coma, the slaveboy's
20-year-old younger brother was in charge of the family. That former school
jock became a lifetime indenture and never returned to our area.

Another story happened more recently and received a lot of press. One of
our local boys from Eureka, who was at the end of his five year indenture,
made a video at the instruction of his owner. The owner wanted this
documentation about the boy's decision to remain an indentured servant for
life. He wanted proof that the boy was not coerced into this decision. The
boy explained to the camera that he had chosen not to return to the Great
North Plains. He said he would rather live in Eureka as a slaveboy, than go
back to our desolate countryside as a free man. At age 23, he was
requesting lifetime indenture, and the profits from his sale would go to
his family.

Although that boy spoke ill of our federation of states, the government
promoted his video. It was in our interest to have good looking, athletic
teenage boys willing to be enslaved for profit, and willing to be shipped
off to an entirely gay nation where they would serve as pleasure slaves for
the men. This boy in the video spoke glowingly of life in Eureka, the fresh
food, the beautiful cities and lush parks. Many boys had less resistance to
being enslaved that year due to this publicity.

The reason indenture advertisements were aimed at the parents was because,
in our part of the continent, fathers still claimed ownership over their
sons till the boys turned 21. Some boys could earn manhood earlier if they
earned a certain amount of money. But there were few jobs where we lived,
besides shoveling snow or dirt (a local joke). Boys 18-21 were a target for
slavers.

Did I say that the institute that funds my Saturday program is the
Institute for Slave Management (called ISM)? The idea was to teach teenage
boys all about the slave processing, slave management, and slave training
industries. They first tried instituting "Indenture Education" into every
grade level, but that failed. Eventually they settled on a plan to teach a
special Saturday program to 16-year-old boys, and I've been head of that
program in our school since it began.

UMI classes aren't designed for the brutish boys who will end up in a
quarry or on a coffle, those boys will be whip-trained in chains. The
classes I teach are for the boys who will end up in Personal Services, the
boys with cute faces and hard bodies. The thing that every adult male knows
(and undoubtedly quite a few teenaged boys know as well) is that Personal
Services include sexual services. But that was never explicitly
discussed. As a UMI teacher, you would divert questions from younger boys
by saying something like, "Well, you may as well ask what if your owner
wanted you to wash him in the shower? You may think that's icky, but as a
slaveboy you must do what your owner commands." Most of our students were
not great intellects, and this answer suited them.

When I was a guest speaker at a sixth grade classroom, a boy in the room
asked the question, "When the gays in Eureka buy my brother will they put
stuff up his butt?"

First, I admonished the boy and made clear that "up his butt" was not
appropriate classroom language. Then I asked the class who did the cleaning
in their houses; the answer was always the mother or some woman. So I told
the class that since the gays didn't have wives to cook and clean and do
things for them, they used slaveboys instead. And since gays enjoyed
looking at other males, they enjoyed having a good looking young buck to
look at. These students were easily distracted because most of the boys in
that class said they wanted to be slave cops, with the weapons and the
tight, black uniforms.  Many other boys would ask about the slave marketing
or training industries. How well did you have to do in school to get a job?
How much money would they make?

I'd always scan a class like that for potential. The boy who had asked the
bold question came up to me afterwards and tried to apologize, looking down
at his feet. He said he felt real bad after his brother left for
indenture. I told him to buck up and assured him that his brother made a
wise and patriotic choice. I took the boy's name and put it in my
records. Sure enough, four years later he was in my Understanding Modern
Indenture program.

A few years after that when I was taking my vacation in the Gay State of
Eureka, I found that same boy in one of the finest boy brothels in
Monterey. Because of my affiliation with ISM, and my role in identifying
potential slaveboys for the industry, I always got free service at these
places. But this was special. A full night with one of their hottest new
commodities.

I actually had a romantic night with that boy. I snuggled him and smooched
with him, while we played with each other's erections. Then, as I remember,
his hard body made me feel especially passionate, I tossed him on the bed
and fucked him hard and deep. I dripped sweat on him, holding him down
under me. Damn. That's the same ass that once sat on a chair in my
classroom. Now I was ramming that fine round butt until I collapsed on top
of him, grunting and sweating like an animal. I made him lick up my sweat
before I permitted him to wash me in the shower.

So I am an aficionado of the pleasures a slaveboy can offer. I've sampled
those pleasures, always in a legal way (as with my visits to Eureka). While
there is an element of eroticism in the UMI class setting, I would never
break my oath as an educator. I will not have sex with any student. I would
never break the law in that way. I can however strip, ogle, and feel up a
good looking boy, all in the interest of his education.











CHAPTER 3: THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS

The first and foremost purpose of the Understanding Modern Indenture
program is to give teenage boys a better understanding of the slave
industry -- an industry so vital to our economy. But the true origins of
this curriculum came after many of the straight teen boys who were first
indentured in the early years put up too much resistance to their owners'
demands. My class was set up to get those boys more open to the idea of
serving as slaveboys, being humiliated, kept naked and being ordered around
by an older man. As their teacher, that was my role.

Part of that understanding of the slave experience involves the boys
emulating the lifestyle and activities of an indentured servant. This was
initiated to help transition certain boys into the reality of what an
indentured boy's life would be like -- a bit sugarcoated and vague at
times, but boys who went through UMI training had less than 25% of the
discipline punishments of boys who went into enslavement raw.

The program was popular among the parents. Every parent had at least made
inquiries into their son's merchandising potential, and what the family
could do to raise their son's value on the market. But the idea of
indenture wasn't ever popular with teenage boys. They didn't want to give
up their freedom. They didn't want to do heavy labor. And most of them
insisted they didn't want to do whatever it was those gays in Eureka would
want them to do (which may well have been true for a few of them). There
was no sex education in the Great North Plains. That was left to parents
and church. And young people caught talking dirty, or talking about sex
with each other were severely punished.

However, Understanding Modern Indenture programs were different. We were in
an enclosed space with these boys, introducing them to most aspects of a
slaveboy's life. The boys would experience and view nudity and
erections. At the same time, parents were fighting to get their sons into
the Understanding Modern Indenture program. It meant potential big bucks
for them down the road. The men in our local Slave Traders' Association
always took an interest in the selection of boys. Some contribute to my
files. A man may tell me about a freshman boy he saw at a swim meet. I'll
file the name and keep track as the lad edges toward UMI age.

The first day of class, I always let the boys stand outside the building
waiting for me, even though they can see me at a distance. I want to see if
any boy calls out to me or approaches me about getting into the
building. Nobody came forward from this new class. They were at least
clever enough not to trip up over the most obvious set up.

I strode forward between them and unlocked the door, but then I stood
blocking the doorway. I looked over the group and then said, "Good morning,
gentlemen. I appreciate you all being here. As you know, there will be
sanctions against any family whose son does not complete this program."
Then I quietly continued, "Before we enter this building and get on with
our work, does anyone have any questions?"

The smart ass with the first question was Tino, a boy with a narrow face,
sharp features, dark hair and dark eyes, half-Latino, half-Italian. He
raised his hand right away and asked, "Sir, can you tell me why this group
of guys was picked? Was it because we've got good bodies, so we'll fetch a
good price as slaveboys?"

I smiled when I replied, "First, the word is not slaveboys, it is
indentured servants or indentures." I paused and looked at the entire group
gathered and said, "First I want to ask: How many of you have seen what
slave cops look like and what their bodies are like? Some of you are
athletes on different school sports. You could have bodies like those slave
cops with a few more years of training. How many of you want to be slave
cops?" Of course there was a roar from the group of boys. All boys from a
certain age onward dream of wearing the skin tight black uniforms, and
having cool gadgets and hard muscles like slavecops. To tell the truth, my
UMI class has produced a few slavecops over the years, but a much larger
number of slaveboys.

But then, to win their trust, I was direct with the boys in my class: "Will
some of you fine young bucks become slaveboys? Well, look at
statistics. Likelihood is, even if this class didn't exist, 60 percent of
the boys in this particular group would be indentured." The reason the
percentage is so high for my particular program is that we've pre-selected
boys who would bring in the highest prices on the market. Therefore these
were the families who'd be most interested in striking a good deal for
their young assets.

The next boy to speak was Chuck, a rambunctious boy with reddish-brown hair
and a few freckles. He wore baggy clothes and didn't do sports, but you
could just tell he was fit. He was a skateboarder and all the girls thought
he was "dreamy" in a brooding kind of way. "So, sir, are we gonna get..."
Chuck was drown out by laughter around him. "I'm sorry, sir," Chuck said in
an off-hand way. "I really wanna ask... are gays gonna do sex with us up
the... um, up the rear end?"

I let the group of boys laugh itself out before they began coming to
attention. I had my arms folded and remained silent, although smiling
indulgently, and I waited till enough boys noticed to make the others take
note and quiet down. When they were all still and attentive, I stepped
forward and kept smiling as I said, "You may be wondering why your
instructor for Understanding Modern Indenture, the man who will teach you
the ins and outs of the indenture industry, and take you through emulations
of slave experiences... You may wonder why I am speaking to you in such a
quiet, understanding voice. Well, out here I'm Mr. Handley and you are my
students."

Then I stood to my full height and in a powerful voice I said, "But once
this door is opened. You are playing the role of slaveboys. You were given
your rights and restrictions in the manual a month ago." (I knew full well
none of my students' families read anything that was sent home.

I rattled off a few of the more important restrictions on what we could do
with the boys: They couldn't be kept naked. They could be seen, examined,
or observed naked, but could not spend a day or a work session fully
nude. Also, there would be no sex inside our program. I would clarify for
the boys that "Sex" is only sex if a penis goes into a warm orifice on the
body of another, meaning a pussy of some kind. Y'know, the GOB Definition
-- Good Old Bill.

Boys who were selected for UMI class had to attend the program, though the
parents were not obligated to sell their sons as slaveboys in the
future. If a boy cuts class, the cops would come after him. If a boy leaves
the program, the cops would come after the family.

That first morning I started off by speaking calmly and pleasantly to this
group of fine young bucks, outside of our building. But I made clear that
once the door was opened they would abide by the rules of their
slave-trainee contracts, signed by their fathers. Those rules meant that
the boy could be spoken to, used and treated as a slaveboy, within certain
restrictions set forth by the state. As far as I know, no boy has lost his
butt cherry while in my program.

I opened the door and roared, "Get your asses in there and line up on the
long yellow line, toes on the line, legs shoulder-width, hands held behind
your backs. And you will be looking down at the floor? Am I understood."
There was a jumble of, "Sir, yes sir," in reply.

I entered and saw the line up of boys in their shabby looking clothes,
ill-fitting jeans, sloppy t-shirts on their unwashed bodies. None of them
were standing up straight and a few of them weren't even toes on the
line. I came in and walked up and down along the line of boys and began
shouting at them about punishment for the entire group because not all of
them could work together to fulfill their Boss's request.

I should clarify. Once inside the building I was addressed as "Boss." I
wasn't permitted to call the boys "Slaves," so it was agreed they'd be
called "Boy," so my class included BoyConnor, BoyChuck, BoyTino and more. I
nodded my head toward mesh bags in front of each of them and I said, "Each
one of you will strip down to your underpants. Nothing else but
underpants. I don't care if that's a jockstrap or swimsuit or briefs or
boxers or a mix of them all." I stopped short when one boy reached for the
hem of his T-shirt. I glared at him as I snapped, "You were not told to
strip down, boy. You do what the boss tells you and not whatever the hell
you feel like doing, whenever the hell you feel like doing it."

"Sorry, sir," the boy said, looking down meekly at the floor as he took a
step backwards.

"Now, strip down, boys," As I announced that I punched a clock that started
up smaller clocks on the long table in front of these boys. "You have one
minute to complete stripping down to underpants and putting all your
clothing including shoes into these bags. These clocks will keep track of
how many seconds you go beyond that allotted minute." They were already
frantically tugging off clothes, bumping into each other, a few of them
falling over. Only 6 of the 18 boys in the room finished on time. I grinned
and reminded them that I had a record of the number of seconds it took each
of them to strip and they would be made to pay.

Stripped to underpants, these high school boys looked just as ragged. On
some of these boys, I had already seen a strip of their underwear waistband
above their sagging jeans. On others I had just guessed. Chuck, who wore
loose-fitting clothes was wearing the baggiest boxers. I only saw two boys
in the room wearing white briefs, one of them was Lars, the slender lemon
blond boy. Connor, our football captain, was in black boxer-briefs with a
white waistband. Seeing this young athlete dressed like that fulfilled so
many masturbatory fantasies I'd had. His chest was so perfectly defined,
his arms had finely formed muscles, not yet over muscled. As a freshmen, he
had been taller than all the other boys, he was also the most athletic big
guy at the school. I'd seen Collin's ass in football pants, and his
shoulders and legs in his track uniform, but seeing this boy in such tight
black underpants gave my dick a jolt.

I began lecturing the boys: Many years ago, when the UMI program was
started, boys were given slave shorts. Parents were upset. Part of my
program has these trainee boys do projects in the town, laboring in public,
and parents didn't want their free boy sons to be seen publicly in slave
shorts. Of course slaveboys being kept naked is totally acceptable in the
community. But these were students, not slaveboys. We couldn't have the
free boys of a town going around naked on Saturdays. And yet these boys
were supposed to be experiencing some of the embarrassment and humiliation
in being a slaveboy.

Early on in the program, I suggested we have boys wear only their own
underpants in UMI class. We wanted the boys to learn humility in public,
and this seemed a fair option. That was at a time when all boys at the high
school wore the same brand of white briefs, before we got the variety we
have now. But in recent years, boys started buying nicer-looking boxer
shorts, or wearing their dad's big ones, to cover up in UMI class. So all
boys were now given white briefs to wear in class, a style associated with
younger boys, and always a size too small.

I handed out appropriate underpants to each boy and watched as they
stripped down and pulled up the briefs. Some boys were cautious and tried
to do it quickly. Some boys tried to keep their free hand over their dicks,
while others would turn their backs and show off their naked butts to
me. One boy who tried to do that tipped over and was sprawled out revealing
his thin erection to everyone.

I blew a whistle and the boys were back in order, standing up straight,
looking like gifts, each wrapped in tight white cotton. "Slave Display
Position," I shouted like a drill sergeant. Most of the boys did quite
well. These are some of the things boys do in schoolyard games from a young
age. Only three boys needed to be corrected on their form. So I ordered the
three boys to come up front and bend over the table that ran the length of
the room in front of the boys.

With these three nervous boys bent over, I pulled down the backs of each of
their briefs. A normal group of teen boys would hoot and laugh when their
classmate's butts are revealed. But these boys had already learned that I
was not playing. The boys saw that I had a bucket of rolled up
newspapers. I lifted the first in the air for the boys to behold. It didn't
look very impressive, and certainly not threatening.

"According to the law, I can only use a paddle or a lash for designated
offenses. But I can always give hand spanks or paddling with my hand or
with a rolled up newspaper." I swatted the air with the rolled up newspaper
for the group of boys to observe. Then I held it high in the air and
smacked it hard over the first boy's upturned butt. The boy cried out in
pain. Of course I had frozen the paper at the center of each so there was
some heft to these makeshift hammers. It also smacked someone hard wherever
it hit. I had to take a new newspaper after every three smacks, because the
pages would shred from the force.

Then I lined up all the boys facing the table and ordered all of them to
bend over and pull down the backs of their white briefs. I walked along the
line of boys. Then I consulted my list, "Lars?" I called out almost as a
question. The slim boy with lemon blond hair came forward. His body was too
thin for my tastes, but very nicely defined. There was a lot of potential
profit in someone buying Lars at a bargain rate, building up his chest and
muscles, and then re-selling him at a high profit. This boy had great
potential as a pleasure slave.

"Lars, it took you the longest to get undressed and put your clothes
away. It was an extra 55 seconds, boy."

He began, "Yes, but I had on these boots that..."

"Silence," I snapped, slapping him hard across the face. There was an
audible gasp in the room. Without looking away from Lars, I spoke to the
other boys, "Yes, I am permitted to do that also. The rules say I can
punish you physically using my hands. That was certainly within the rules."

Directing myself back to the boy in front of me, "Do you want to guess what
your punishment will be today, Lars?"

He was looking down at the floor, tears almost coming to his eyes as he
said, "Y-you're going to give me 55 whacks on my behind, sir?"

I laughed and said, "What nonsense, boy. You're the one who'll be handing
out those 55 smacks to these other boys. What's it to be, boy? Do you have
a grudge against some boy in this class? Wanna give him the full 55? Or
maybe split it between 3 of 4 boys."

He thought then calmly said, "I will give one each to each of the other
guys... sir."

He swatted the first butt in line in a very lackluster way. There was no
energy in his arm. Then he was doing the same to the second boy in line. "I
won't put up with this charade, boy. For each boy you don't really smack, I
will replace your one whack with one from me. And trust me boy, I can hit
much harder." I aimed the paddle toward the first boy's ass, raised it up
in the air, and let it down with a loud whooshing sound. The boy underneath
me nearly jumped in the air and shrieked. I paid no attention to him,
instead turning to Lars and saying, "You will smack each boy on the butt
with all the strength you can. Do you understand me, boy? Otherwise I'll
replace your smacks with mine." I also pointed out that rather than Lars
going down the line repeatedly, he could give each boy three smacks and
move on to the next.

The hour wore on and the boys lost trust in each other. The next boy up was
Tino, who said that he had to be faithful to his pals on the wrestling team
and the baseball team. He called for them to stick together, then paddled
only football and basketball players. That wasn't a wise thing to do. The
next boy up was a football player and he got revenge, especially against
Tino. Chuck, who wasn't on any sports team, just handed out smacks
indiscriminately, laughing as he did so. A lot of boys wanted revenge on
him for that laughter, also because he didn't have allegiance to any sports
team. By the end, all the boys were lined up in slave display position,
their sore bottoms covered in white fabric. This building was in the middle
of a large clearing in the woods. I ordered the boys to run around the
clearing five times. I had measured the distance and it was optimal. I sat
back to watch them and to consider their potential.











CHAPTER 4: THE SECOND WEEK AND BEYOND

For the second UMI class session, the boys are told to be prepared to get
wet, so all of them showed up in sweats or shorts, with their usual
T-shirts. They didn't need any of these clothes. I simply ordered the boys
back into their tight white briefs. They did a much better job of standing
at attention. I counted down the line and assigned each boy a number. Then
I told them I would randomly select numbers. That wasn't true. I'm a genius
with numbers and matched the pairs as I wanted them arranged. Sometimes two
friends were together. Sometimes a boy was paired with someone who was his
opposite.

I then instructed the boys to line up, each facing his partner. I
instructed the ones with higher numbers to stand against the wall. I then
told the boys against the wall that they would be serving their
teammates. You can imaging how the boys reacted to the word "Serving."

I then clarified that the boys who would be serving, would be shaving and
taking care of the bathing needs of their teammates. There was a stillness
in the room when I explained this. Some of the boys had experience with
older brothers who had been through UMI and had their body hair shaved,
some other boys seemed alarmed. The boys were showered, then had the hair
on their bodies lathered up. Of course all the boys needed shaving around
the base of their dicks. And of course every boy got an erection when this
was occurring, with all the other boys watching and touching.

It gave me a perfect opportunity to tell the boys not to be embarrassed
about being naked or showing an erection, "It's natural when you are in
service." For the first shaving, I went to each group of boys and took the
razor. I demonstrated to the dry boy what was involved with shaving pubes
without nicking a penis. Of course I had my free hand touching each of the
boys' nice boners. Some were surprisingly long and thick, others were cute
but neither long nor thick. That was OK. There's room for all tastes in the
world, as well as in a slave auction hall.

After that the boys had to learn to administer enemas to each other. One
boy complained that he'd had a big bowel movement that morning and didn't
have enough to give. I gave him time and he fulfilled the requirement. I
told them that the following week they would be administering enemas to
themselves. I also told them they would be responsible for keeping their
bodies cleanly shaved and washed. I warned that their bodies would be
examined in careful detail every Saturday morning. Boys would be punished
for any hair found below the eyebrows.

The following week when the boys arrived for class, I introduced them to
our guest. McGhee was a large man, known in the slave trade across the
territory. He had the biggest business in exporting boys to Eureka. It is
generous of him to come to my class and share his knowledge. But I know
he's actually there scouting for boys to sell in another two years. He also
kept a file and knew the dates when certain boys would be turning 18. "We
wanna get them fresh," McGhee would always say. He was aggressive about his
business, and he had a discerning eye.

Of course his eyes immediately fell on Connor. So I did a trick I've done
before. I printed out each of the boys' names on a label. I showed them the
labels as I tossed them into a dark hat. I then pretended to fish around in
the hat, knowing I had pocketed the selected card in the brim of the hat. I
held it up and it said, "Connor."

I ushered Connor up to the podium and told the students, "Connor is going
to be our model today." I looked around and said, "I hope you boys noticed
how random that was. It's like that in the indenture industry. You might be
the fifth boy in line. Will that mean you're heading to something good? Or
something bad?" There was a nervous chuckle among the group.

McGhee helped fasten leather cuffs on Connor's wrists, then he lifted up
the boy's arms and attached the cuffs to the boy's collar on each side. I
turned to the class and said, "No matter how tame a slaveboy is, there may
be some things in the examination, cleaning or medical procedure that
startle or disturb the boy. So it's safest to put the slaveboy in a
position like this." My hands were all over Connor's hard muscles. McGhee
came over and examined each of Connor's fully-exposed underarms. The right
one was OK, but McGhee said he found two pin hairs in the left armpit. He
plucked them out as the boy winced.

Then McGhee was on his knees examining the football player's legs, before
turning his attention to the boy's tender balls and dick. Of course, Connor
had his eyes closed and his body was shaking from nerves. I broke the
silence to say, "I have made clear that we strictly follow the state rules
here. This boy's mouth and his anus will not be penetrated while he's in
this program." McGhee gave me a dirty look, like he thought I was directing
that reminder at him.

The slave trader still had his hands all over Connor, testing the strength
in the boy's legs -- he told me later he thought Connor could grow to
become a pony slave, running his master's private trap into town. A few of
the richest men in our region used boys that way. This boy was certainly a
trophy and he would undoubtedly go for a high price. McGhee's finger went
roughly up Connor's asshole and the boy gasped. Then the slave trader held
up his finger, grinned and said, "Totally clean." He then put his finger to
Connor's lips. Connor tried to turn away and McGhee snapped, "You're the
one responsible for cleaning out your ass, boy. Are you telling me that you
didn't clean it out well enough, so you'r not willing to lick my finger
now? Should I punish you for not being clean, boy?"

Connor softly said, "No, no, sir," came closer and licked the big
slavetrader's finger. The look on McGhee's face told me that little power
play brought him close to shooting off in his pants. Connor just looked
confused and a little bit scared. McGhee went on, "He's new to all
this. The boy deserves our understanding." There was a look of relief on
Connor's face, but then the older man went on, "So he should only get ten
swats for being uncooperative with a master."

I turned to Connor and said, "Bend over, boy," the way I might give a
command to a dog. Connor bent over and I peeled down the white briefs in
back, revealing a perfect bubble butt. It was smaller than I would have
expected on a boy of his size, but that's what made it even hotter. I
rubbed the strands of the tawse across the boy's smooth backside. I saw
goosebumps pop up and saw the boy shiver. Then I swatted three times across
his buttcheeks. The boy groaned and shuddered. "This is a swat,
boy. Beating you with a paddle would be a whack." I went on to give Connor
another seven blows to his white round ass. His face was scrunched up at
the end like he was trying very hard not to cry.

Afterwards I couldn't find McGhee. It turns out he had gone back to my
office and closed himself in so he could have a good jack off session. Like
me, he's a professional and knows he won't get actual oral or anal sex from
these boys, but the turn-on factor in that room was enormous. McGhee took
me out for a steak and lobster dinner that night. He enjoyed my class very
much and he'd made notes on most of the boys.

He agreed that I had a good group this year. Some of the boys would bring
high prices and would end up with high end owners somewhere on one of the
coasts. Those boys would bring profits into the pockets of the indenture
agent, the government, the boy's family, and the boy. There were other boys
he thought were less desirable. But he said even those boys would probably
be purchased as household slaves for some middle class family or some
middle class single man. If it was with a family, the husband would
secretly go down to the slave quarters and sodomize his slaveboy at
night. If it was a single man, the slave would simply be fucked on the
owner's bed night or day. Everyone knows that personal services means a
slaveboy will have to do house chores and cleaning, but he would also be
used as a pleasure slave.

Except we were not permitted to say that to the students. In front of the
entire class, Chuck stomped his feet and insisted, "Why won't you answer
the question? Are we gonna havta take y'know... umm penises... up
our... y'know, rear ends?" He was trying to choose words that did not
offend the school's language policy.

I sat down and spoke seriously. "Let's say you're a slaveboy for a big
businessman. He works very long days, his body is sore when he gets
back. Of course he'd want you to bring him some food, maybe another
drink. You would know what your master desires. If your master feels
sweaty, of course you will help him to shower. That means getting into the
shower with him. What if he wants to have you soap up his big hairy
middle-aged body? Well, it wouldn't appeal to you. It wouldn't be like
feeling up Cindy Lou naked in a shower. But you're a slaveboy, you're there
to do what your master asks."

"Sir," Chuck insisted. "If I'm down there having washed my owner's private
parts, what if he ordered me to rub that with my hand until he shot off?
What if he ordered me to take his thing in my mouth, sir?"

The room was too silent. I told them a heartfelt story about Italy during
WWII. As the Allied Troops marched up the peninsula, the American G.I.s
were horny for girls. In the Italian culture, a girl's virginity was
sacred. Nobody would marry a girl who had lost her virginity, even if she
had been forced. So Italian teenage boys did something very brave. They
went and offered their butts to the American G.I.s for money. This money
sustained their families and allowed their sisters to get married and have
families. I brought the story to a rising crescendo.

Then I asked the silent room, "How many of you think those boys in Italy
were heroes?"

They all agreed that the Italian boys had done something brave. I had
planted an idea for them to think about. I hadn't told the boys they would
be sodomized up the rear in slavery. But I hadn't told them that it
wouldn't happen. And I glorified the memory of other teenage boys who saved
their society by sacrificing their tender teenage butts.

As the semester proceeded I usually had one or two or even three other men
there to assist me. Of course there were my friends in the slave management
and training business. But there were also some fathers who were curious to
see what their sons were experiencing. All these men tended to remain erect
through most of their time visiting our class. They understood the rule
about no sex with my students. But of course part of UMI curriculum teaches
boys to masturbate another male's penis. I had the boys practice on each
other. But these visitors to our class -- slave trainers or dads or just
friendly citizens -- provided thick, hairy cocks for my students to
practice on.

I brought in other special guests. These were always dealers in the slave
industry who were doing me a favor, but also checking out the
merchandise. And some were public officials who were signing my permits in
exchange for two hours with one or two of my boys. They knew the
rules. Everything that they did with students was videotaped, and they knew
I'd prosecute them if they tried having actual sex with one of my
students. The president of our school board liked to have one of our boys
blindfolded and hog-tied, then would rub his dick on the nearly-naked boy's
body until he shot his load. That's not the same as doing real sex to the
boy.

On a particular week I let the boys get a little unruly. That gave me the
excuse to lock them all in cock cages. These plastic devices with metal
reinforcement would permit them to pee freely, but their dicks could not
get fully erect and they certainly couldn't jerk off. I told the boys the
cock cages would remain until they came to class the following week. I knew
what torture it would be for 16-year-olds, spending an entire week without
touching their dicks. When they arrived that next week, they were the most
obedient and obsequious I had ever seen them. They were begging to have the
cock cages removed. I told them to dress in their free boy underpants and
line up in front of our truck. Once there, I unlocked each cock cage and
then chained each boy in place in the back of our truck.

I knew that their dicks would all immediately go erect after a week in the
cock cage. All of them had hands cuffed behind them so they couldn't touch
their own erections. I drove to our scheduled destination in the Gaytown
section of Capitol City and unloaded the boys in a local park. The
neighborhood gays were expecting us and there was quite a crowd present to
greet the boys. I looked over my students, each boy in his own
underpants. Collin had tried to keep his P.E. shorts on, but I insisted
that the jockstrap underneath was his real underwear, so he had his ass
completely displayed on the main street of Gaytown. Chuck's baggy boxers
that day were sea blue with vintage-style drawings of beach umbrellas and
palm trees, Lars was in his white briefs, and various boys were in
different colors of boxer briefs.

The gays were enjoying the display of erections in free boy underpants.
Some of the gays watching were openly rubbing their boners in the front of
their own pants. I split my class into three groups. I had two slave trader
buddies helping me out that day. We each chained our line of boys together
by their collars, hands behind their backs. I stood on the bed of the truck
and announced to my boys (knowing the lurking gays were also hearing), "You
boys are not slaveboys. We will not permit anyone to treat you as they
would a slaveboy. However, you are trainee boys. Therefore you are treated
as potential slaveboys or slaveboys-to-be `on the calendar' as the saying
goes. Passersby can stop you and, if your master approves, they can examine
you. After all, given the high likelihood that you boys will be indentured
in the next few years, everyone on this street is a potential purchaser."
There was a roar or approval from the gays.

Because of their age and status, the boys could not be examined nude, so
their underpants had to be kept in place. However, interested parties were
allowed to pull away the front of a boy's underwear to look at the dicks
and balls stored away there. Passersby could also reach down into the back
to feel a boy's ass cheeks in his underpants.

I paraded my boys down the main street of Gaytown and watched as various
men pulled on the boys' nipples, slapped their butts, and felt them up in
very lascivious ways. One heavyset hairy man in leather was fondling
Chuck's bottom, while a man of equal size was tickling the boy's nipples. I
saw a bounce in the teenage boy's boxers and then I watched as a stain
appeared and spread on the cheerful print. Chuck grunted and bent
over. Then he immediately looked up at me and said, "S-sorry, sir." Not
only was there a flood of jism on the front left side of his brightly
colored underpants, the cream was dripping down his leg. Because the boy's
hands were cuffed behind his back, he couldn't do anything to rearrange his
penis which was now caught up in the overly-moist fabric.

I directed him to a short wall and leaned him over it. I pulled down just
the back of his boxers and smacked his smooth white ass cheeks five
times. I was startled that after I planted the fifth loud whack, there was
a load of cum that splashed on Chuck's reddened butt. I turned and saw that
the same big hairy man in leather who had been toying with Chuck's butt
cheeks was now pumping the last drops of his own explosive cum onto Chuck's
backside. I pulled the teen's boxer shorts into place, soaking up the
stranger's spunk as I did. Now the boy was wet front and back and blushing
deeply as we proceeded down the street. The man who had cum on Chuck,
handed me his card and asked me to notify him when the boy would be
available for purchase.

I invited a few special guests to the class session where boys were
required to masturbate each other. Once again I put the boys into teams of
two. I wanted each boy to learn to be sensitive to what another male
wanted. First I would seat the dickboy, who had his hands cuffed behind his
back, next to the handler. Then I would ask the handler to play with
dickboy's penis exactly the way he liked his own penis played with. If
dickboy complained that his skin was being pulled too hard or that he
didn't like his balls played with, he was to be ignored. Each boy had to
reveal truthfully what other parts of their body they touched when they
masturbated -- did they play with their holes or rub their nipples?

Then the boy doing the masturbating had to stop doing what he wanted and
start listening to instructions from dickboy. In order to succeed, the
handler had to do as instructed and make the other boy shoot his load. The
men watching were definitely enjoying it more than the boys. I explained to
the boys that slaves often were not allowed to masturbate themselves and
had to depend on another slave or free man to do it for them. And that
sometimes they might be asked to take care of a free man's penis in this
way, and they needed to learn how to please each individual man.

My guests never got bored through all the group presentations. These men
had flown in from Eureka. Of course that meant they were gays, but they
weren't the obvious kind. They weren't wearing anything sparkly. Even
though I'm a teacher, there's a lot I don't know. On that visit I went to a
club in the gay district of our Capitol City. Gays are not discriminated
against where I live. They are offered a free ticket to the Gay State of
Eureka, or else they can move into the Gaytown slum in our major city. At
the club I saw men grinding together and performing every imaginable sex
act, and some I couldn't have imagined. I told my Eureka visitors that I
needed to leave. I explained, "It's one thing to see men doing all that to
a slaveboy. That seems natural to me. But to see two free men going at it
like this just feels wrong."

So they took me downstairs to a club they said was more exclusive. I could
hardly believe what I saw! There were three of my former UMI students
dancing in cages above the small crowd. They were all 19 and 20 at the time
so they had been in my class three or four years earlier, but I remembered
them well. The Eureka visitors offered to pay for me to enjoy a night with
one of the boys, but I felt they should enjoy the pleasures of our
territory while they were visiting. I insisted that they use my three
former students that night.

















CHAPTER 5: AND THEN THE CHANGE IN LAW

Toward the end of the school year I got a few pieces of surprising
news. First, the gay state of Eureka lowered their age of full indenture to
16. Since they did that on a Friday I knew that by the following Monday our
legislature would match that legislation. That would mean the boys in my
class were ripe for enslavement. Having just changed the laws as they did,
there would be a great demand for 16-year-old slaveboys in Eureka.

I called certain parents and asked them to meet with me quickly. The next
day was Saturday and I had my UMI class. I managed to get the necessary
paperwork in order. With my connections to the slave trading industry, I
was able to get the space and mobility I would need.

The next day's UMI class was typical. I knew that none of these boys
followed actual news or knew anything about civics. Even their parents had
been ignorant about the change in law that made their sons immediately
eligible for enslavement. The boys in my class were all used to our routine
by this point. But for a few of them today would end differently.

Boys were examined for hair, given a lesson on performing cunnilingus
(using a plastic model), and sent out to a local park to do gardening in
their underpants. People were used to seeing this year's UMI boys working
in white briefs in the park, but it was always announced and still drew a
crowd, especially middle school boys who liked to mock the high school
juniors. Of course there were also the school rivals, gloating at seeing
these boys stripped and embarrassed like this, but also scared the same
could happen to them. And there were the men in the crowd, some who
appeared to just happen by and stop to look for a few minutes. When some of
these boys come on the auction block, those same men will be there watching
and sometimes bidding.

When I packed the boys into our truck (and I do mean "packed" like luggage)
and drove back to our small building, I dismissed most of the boys but kept
four back: Connor, Chuck, Lars and Tino. I showed them forms I had gotten
signed by their parents and I explained that they would be taken for a much
more intense training, taken to a place where we were permitted to do more
to their bodies.

Three men came in who had all met the boys in the past. It was McGhee and
two other slave industry specialists who had visited the class before. Now
each of us took one boy and methodically gagged him, blindfolded him,
cuffed and shackled him. We placed each of our boys into a cage and took
those cages out to the back of a van.

In a commanding voice, I announced, "OK, this is for the four boys: Connor,
Chuck, Lars and Tino. You are property now. Do you understand me, boys? You
are nothing more than slaveboys now." As far as I was concerned, I had
dutifully informed these boys that they were now enslaved. Of course,
reading the articles of indenture is considered standard. But I knew what I
had announced would hold up in court.

The van was well set up. The air conditioning worked well. Also there was a
mister that sprayed refreshing water across all four of the cages in the
back, helping to cool our merchandise. We didn't mean to pamper our new
slaveboys, but we wanted them looking their best on the auction block.

We arrived at the border where the Great North Plains Federation comes up
against the outskirts of the Gay State of Eureka. There's a town there
called Winnemucca that is known for its slave auctions. Because of where
the town is situated, anytime someone is trying to get a boy out of GNP
Territory to sell him in Eureka, this is the easiest point for them to
reach. Nobody on the GNP side of the border cared that we were taking these
boys out to sell them. They knew that the boy trade kept our economy
going. And the only thing the guards cared about in Eureka, was how cute
the boys were that we planned to sell. When we explained about the ages of
these boys and the circumstances, the guards laughed and said they would
come to the auction the following Monday.

You see, it was legal on that day to sell a 16-year-old boy in Eureka. But
it wasn't legal yet to indenture a 16-year-old boy in the Great North
Plains. We would have to wait on that till our legislature met on
Monday. Meanwhile, we unpacked our four UMI students in the back of the
large slave mall in Winnemucca, Eureka. They were wearing their white
briefs, instead of slave shorts. Their hands remained cuffed behind their
backs. Their collars were bright green, differentiating them from the real
slaveboys who wore metal collars.

These four boys were among the boldest back at our school. But here they
moved slowly, their eyes darting everywhere. All four of them were
uneasy. Meanwhile, they drew interest from everyone we passed.

Dressed in white briefs and green collars, my students watched slaveboys
being processed. They observed from overhead as straight boys were stripped
to underpants. Then watched those boys get on a treadmill that took them
through various stations. They watched as each new slave's essential
information was taken and a series of inoculations were given. The boys on
the treadmill stopped at a station where they were dipped in a depilatory
cream removing all hair below their eyebrows. After that the new slaves
being processed received enemas. All my boys were already familiar with
this from my class.

But before we left that station, the manager there stopped our little tour
group. I explained that these boys were in my Understanding Modern
Indenture class, and that they were trainees and not full-fledged
slaves. He looked at me in a meaningful way and said, "16 are they?" When I
told him they were, he insisted that I pull down the backs of boys' briefs
and give him a feel of their asses. He moaned as he fondled. I saw Tino
squirming like he wanted to pull away. I warned, "Tino, a boy doesn't pull
away when a free man is examining him." The man smiled at me and said,
"Can't wait to get them here."

All the boys looked at me and asked what the man meant. I told them to
focus on the tour. We watched the newly enslaved boys on the treadmill
receive their permanent metal collars, and we saw them get their slave ID
numbers (SINs) tattooed on their left collarbone and their right hip. (With
so many five-year-indentures, they've devised tattoos that begin to fade
after four-and-a-half years, and are easily removed at the end of five.)
But when the tour was over, I found myself in the locker room reserved for
my boys. They stood respectfully around me and Connor asked softly, "Tell
us the truth, sir. Are we slaves now?"

I told them all about Eureka changing their laws to allow for the sale of
16-year-old boys as full service slaves. I told the boys that by Monday our
Great North Plains legislature was expected to follow suit. Then all four
of them would be sold in the Winnemucca Slaveboy Auction. That quieted them
down for a long while. I then tried to take a more upbeat approach. I told
them they were all expecting to be indentured in another two years
anyway. "This way you boys will get it over with. You'll complete your five
years of indenture by the time you're 21. I think that's a great deal for
you."

Lars agreed with me and encouraged the other boys. He always helped try to
keep spirits up. I then went on to tell the boys that, since the law had
just then passed, there were virtually no 16-year-boys on the market
yet. The group of them would be highly valued because 16-year-olds were
still so rare. "I've told you boys before: If a man buys the most expensive
automobile, he's not going to leave it out in the rain or park it where
it'll get scratched and dented, right? Well, you are going to be some very
high-priced goods when they auction you off. You will be highly treasured
by your new owners, boys. That's a great way to start off."

Now, I don't know if you would say it was the boys' natural exuberance, or
if it was just that these boys were all a little dense, but they started to
cheer and congratulate themselves. Yes, they would be sold at auction the
following day. But they would be purchased by very rich men who would value
them highly. They spent that night in cages in the back of the Slave Mall,
surrounded by other nearly-nude slaves. My boys knew their fate was sealed.

Monday night I was backstage preparing my boys for auction. They were
already tattooed and collared, each dressed in their own free boy
underpants. It was a tradition in Winnemucca. They liked to announce,
"Straight teen boys in their free boy underpants." Connor was in his black
boxer briefs, Tino was wearing grey briefs, Chuck was in baggy plaid
boxers, and Lars in his own tighty whities.

Before the boys were sent out to the stage, the head of the Institute for
Slave Management came up to congratulate me. He took me aside for a private
conversation and told me how valued I was as an educator, and how grateful
the slave industry was for my many contributions. (I laughed inside. My
"contributions" had been teen boys they could sell.) Then he said he heard
I was going to retire. I assured him that was correct. I was getting tired
of teaching and felt I was just spinning my wheels.

When I started explaining my reasons for retirement, the man interrupted
and said, "We could make it very attractive for you to stay."

I stopped in my tracks. I had to ask, "How?"

The man said, "You'll keep your full salary but only teach the Saturday
class. You won't have to teach any classes during the week."

"Hmmmphh," I laughed. "I should have demanded that about ten years ago."
Then I asked, "Why is it so important to you that I continue teaching
Understanding Modern Indenture?"

"Don't you get it?" he asked. "When the age of indenture was 18, you taught
Understanding Modern Indenture to 16-year-olds so they'd he prepared. Now
we need to move the curriculum down from the 11th to the 9th grade. Now
that 16-year-olds can be enslaved, we need you to start teaching UMI to
14-year-olds." I looked at him, surprised, but of course I should have
already figured on this. He went on, "And for the next year we will need
extra instructors to do 9th and 10th, as well as your traditional 11th
grade class. We will need you to manage the other teachers."

I looked at him with a scowl. "So you want to give me more responsibility,
and more management duties, and say that I'm fully compensated getting my
old teacher's salary? What nonsense!"

"Wait! Wait!" he said excitedly. "We will give you a bonus for signing up
for another three years as UMI teacher and to train the new teachers."

He pointed to the line of four of my students chained to their frames. Each
one was about to be wheeled out onstage for bidding to begin. I knew that
even with my savings, I'd never have enough cash to buy a beautiful, fresh
16-year-old slaveboy like any of these. I was confused and looked to the
man. He said, "Pick one of them. If you sign up for three years, we will
buy one of these boys for you as your bonus."













CHAPTER 6: TEACHER GETS A SLAVEBOY

I looked over the four boys on display. Connor was the big school jock, his
chest and shoulders already mature for his age; everything was
well-developed on this boy, and I remembered the advice that he would make
a fine pony slave in the future. Lars was almost wispy, so blond and
slim. I thought maybe I should take him because I feared how he would
handle having a rough owner. Then there was Tino, such a wise ass, but such
defined, hard muscles, an 8-pack stomach. And finally there was Chuck, the
skateboarder who didn't play sports. I looked at him and thought to myself
that he was at a perfect in-between age. I imagined that three years
earlier, he was an adorable freckle-faced little kid with a button
nose. Three years in the future, Chuck would be a skateboarding party dude
who'd be perfectly at home in a frat house.

I turned to the man who had made the offer and said, "If only I knew what
sort of owners the other three boys will get."

"Oh, that's no mystery," he said. "The largest boy brothel in Monterey is
going to take them. You know they can afford to outbid anyone else. They
also have the resources to monetize this sort of merchandise. You know that
next Saturday night there will be a big auction and all three of these
boys' cherries will be up for bid." Yes, of course, how could I be so
ignorant not to realize that.

I turned to him and made a snap decision. "I'll take Chuck. And I will take
him as guarantee that I'll remain for one year. If you want me to sign up
for another year after that, you may have to offer me another bonus."

The auction house staff put a leash on Chuck's collar, his hands still
cuffed behind him and his feet connected by a short chain. I led him away
and he looked back over his shoulder. "Sir," he asked, "Wh-what just
happened, sir? Why are you taking me and the other boys are being sent out
to the stage and..." I touched an electric slave prod to the boy's exposed
left nipple and he was soon writhing on the ground. I grabbed him by his
collar and lifted him up to face me as I snarled, "Fucking slaveboy! You
will only speak when spoken to."

Chuck looked down and trembled as he said, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

I stuffed Chuck into a small cage that was provided by the good people at
the auction mall, and placed the cage in the trunk of my car. It was a
struggle getting the cage into my house without any help. Chuck is a big
boy, taller than me. I released Chuck but had to help him up since he still
wore the handcuffs. I then proceeded to really examine him, not the polite
way we examined boys in the UMI class, but the way an owner examines a new
hunk of slaveflesh. I felt and kneaded all his muscles, spent a lot of time
squeezing, pinching, then fingering his ass.

I pushed two of my fingers into Chuck's mouth and ordered him to get them
wet, with a lot of spit. I then proceeded to work one, then the other
finger, into the new slaveboy's virgin butthole. My tongue was in his ear
as I grunted, "I have a long, thick cock, boy. And you know where I'm going
to put that fat cock, don't you, Chuck?"

The youth shuddered and whimpered, and my cock leaked in my pants. For so
many years I had dreamed about doing this to any number of my students. I
had jerked off thinking about it. But of course I always followed the law
and never acted on my fantasies. The boys in UMI class were 16, and legal
age for indenture had been 18. As appealing as these young bucks might be,
I would have to wait at least two years before getting at any of them --
and then only for an hour at a time as a guest of their eventual owners.

But suddenly the law was changed. Here was a 16-year-old boy who had been
in my class just a few days earlier. Now he was turned into my slaveboy,
collared, cuffed, and stripped to his boxer shorts. I undid his handcuffs,
then pushed the youth to the couch and clambered on top of him. I was
kissing him deep and wet, my tongue exploring his entire mouth. Then I
moved down and sucked a bit of his neck between my lips. I chuckled and
said, "I know your girlfriend always gave you hickies, boy. Now you'll have
to get your hickies from an old homo."

I then proceeded down to Chuck's smooth chest. I licked and then sucked
each of his nipples. One hand was wrapped around the boy's middle, my
fingers sticking down into the back of his boxer shorts. My hand was
outlining each of his ass cheeks. In between kisses, I told my new slave,
"Way back when you wore those baggy pants, I always felt certain you had a
beautiful little ass. And Indeed I was right. Each cheek is so round, so
firm, the skin so soft. And I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't even
have to shave your butt, slaveboy. It was already hairless."

I reached inside the front of the teenager's boxer shorts and pulled out
his cock. I licked at the head and he shuddered with pleasure. Then I
wrapped my lips around his stiff rod and sucked on it. He moaned and put
his hands on my head. But then I pulled off his cock, looked him in the
face, and pushed him to his knees in front of the couch.

My stiff prick was sticking up out of my pants. I caressed Chuck's face as
I lightly stroked my erection. Then I was rubbing my hard-on against the
boy's lips. "C'mon, kid. I'm leaving pre-cum on your lips. You need to lick
it off like a good boy."

Reluctantly, his tongue came out and licked the coating of cream from his
lips. "Now lick the head of it. Lick all the wet stuff off your owner's big
cock." Chuck paused and then opened his mouth to take my flared cockhead
between his lips. He gagged even though there was hardly any dick in his
mouth. I brushed his hair tenderly and slowly started moving my hips
backwards and forward.

He would need a lot more training to perform a really good blow job, but I
almost came just looking down at his adorable face. He was an all-American
boy, a few freckles across his turned up nose, his auburn hair swept back
from his face. I had jerked off dreaming about this particular boy ever
since he arrived at my school. And now I was seeing that face with his lips
distorted, stretched wide to go around my thick stiff cock.

I pulled out of his mouth. This was my first night possessing this
beautiful slaveboy, and this was not how I wanted to shoot my load. Chuck
dutifully stripped me to my boxer shorts, then I took him by the hand and
walked him into my bedroom. Once on the bed I spent a long time kissing the
young buck, and also playing with his butthole, getting it greasy for
easier entry. I took a perverse pleasure in leaving the boy in his "free
boy boxer shorts." I was then able to pretend that I was doing something
against the law and downright immoral. I imagined that I was bedding one of
my free boy students. And indeed back when Chuck had dressed for school and
put on these plaid boxers, he had been one of my free boy students.

His feet were resting on my shoulders when I entered his virgin ass. I was
hovering over him with my cock pressing against his hole. I shoved forward
and he scrunched up his face like he was trying not to scream. I planted
tender kisses all over his face as I pulled my cock back and then inched it
forward just a bit. I ordered him to lick my hairy chest and suck on both
of my nipples. Having my nipples sucked always helps me get harder. In this
case I wanted Chuck to concentrate on my chest in order to take his mind
away from the pain up his butt.

I grabbed his hips and pulled him the rest of the way down onto my thick
cock. My pubes were resting against the backs of his thighs. My balls were
resting on his ass cheeks. I began to fuck him, slowly at first. Then I was
moving in and out faster. I started long dicking him. I would pull almost
all the way out of the boy's tender hole, and then slam back in all the way
very quick and very hard. He would grunt each time I slammed into him.

I was dripping sweat and could feel my heart about to burst as my cock
forced its way deeper than before. I felt like it was suddenly longer and
thicker wrapped in the new slaveboy's insides. My cock shot very hard, over
and over again. Each time my cock pulsated, Chuck gasped and I grunted.

When I collapsed on top of the new slave, I was glued to him with my dried
sweat. With my cock still in his ass, I reached down and began slowly
pumping his cock. In a soft voice, I said, "This is your introduction to
being a slave, Chuck. I know you've been through a lot today. So your
master is treating you kindly and jerking you off. What do you say, boy?"

"Th-thank you, master," he stammered.

I rubbed up and down harder until he shot in my hand. Then I brought that
hand to his mouth and ordered him to lick it clean. He swore he had never
before tasted even his own cum. I made note of that and decided that the
next day he would have to get a good taste of his master's cum.

As I laid in bed with him, feeling calm and relaxed, I started to think
about my Understanding Modern Indenture curriculum for the following
year. I would start the next school year owning my own slaveboy, so I could
bring Chuck to class for various demonstrations. The more I thought about
it, the more I liked the idea. It would help to normalize indenture for the
new students, many of whom knew Chuck when he was a student. I knew the
younger boys would certainly enjoy seeing the former skateboard champ of
the school naked and humiliated.





chuck's education

CHAPTER 7: NOW THAT I'M A SLAVE OWNER

Some colleagues asked why I chose Chuck. Many of them insisted that Connor,
with his pecs and muscled arms was the most appealing. Others asked how I
could resist the charms of Lars, the slim boyish blond. Still others
reminded me that Tino had a harder, more athletic body than Chuck. I
thought about this for quite some time until I realized I simply enjoyed
Chuck's company.

I know you've all read slaveboy stories about a master who wants his slave
gagged, constantly tortured, scared to ever speak. I'm very knowledgeable
about the slave industry and I know these accounts are true, but the idea
of having such a pathetic creature in my home doesn't appeal to me. Chuck
makes me laugh, and that means a lot. I like snuggling with him in bed as I
watch a movie (granted, it's always a movie I choose and one he probably
hates, but he's a slaveboy so what can he do about it?). I enjoy having him
give me a long leisurely blow job as I sip my coffee and read the Sunday
paper.

In a strange way I feel like I am emulating the role of a father, with my
slaveboy as my ersatz son in my very own incest fantasy. Of course Chuck is
the idealized son, the one who helps me out of my clothes, and has my
dinner on the table, who snuggles up with me when I'm chilly and who sucks
my cock when I'm horny. What more could any father want?

Chuck and I eat dinner together. Of course I eat at the table and he eats
from his bowl on the floor. Of course we shower together; he washes me
thoroughly in the shower which I find very relaxing. I take him along on
outings. My friends have come to know him -- most of my closer friends have
used Chuck for some sort of sexual release. And we sleep together. Well,
nights I'm restless the boy sleeps on the floor next to my bed, chained to
the footboard. But a majority of nights he sleeps cuddled up next to me
under the blankets.

I have not neglected Chuck's education. Changing the age of full indenture
to 16 swept the continent. And soon after there were many online classes
for slaveboys to complete their high school diplomas. Chuck attended class
in front of my computer monitor. Onscreen were boxes with his teacher's
video feed, and the feeds from all the other slaveboys in the class. I
enjoyed watching from the side. The students were expected to always speak
as properly polite slaveboys. The instructor would instantly message slave
owners if their boys earned any punishments. He was generous in giving out
punishments. Not so generous with grades. Since I promised to punish Chuck
for any grade below an "A" I had plenty of opportunities to beat my slave's
tender ass.

Early on I asked Chuck which he found more embarrassing when accompanying
me grocery shopping: a slavejock or his own free boy boxers? He was
reluctant to admit it, but slaveboys must tell their masters the truth, he
found the free boy boxers more embarrassing. How could that be? The
slavejock exposed, framed and separated his butt cheeks making them
especially provocative.

He acknowledged me and told me that he'd gotten used to gay men looking at
his ass. Why should he care if he gave them boners when they saw him in his
slavejock? Any man chosen by his master could sodomize him up the rump. He
was right. In fact, I enjoyed watching other men ogling my young slaveboy,
and enjoyed watching certain men sodomizing his rear end.

"When you dress me in a slavejock, master, I feel like I'm a slave. But
when I'm wearing my own boxers, the same ones I used to wear to school, I
feel like I'm still a free boy, a student at school, sir. And that makes me
feel embarrassed that all these people are seeing me without any shirt or
pants on. You understand, sir, anytime we go to the supermarket we always
see guys who knew me at school or neighbors who remember me growing up." He
looked down and blushed. He had confirmed what I suspected and I made a
point of dressing him in his free boy boxers for public occasions.

By the time I returned to teach my next class session the following
Saturday, there were only seven boys remaining. The other parents had
decided to cash in and sell their sons while the market for 16-year-olds
was hot. The parents of these seven boys had decided either to hold off
selling their sons till the boys reached 18, or to at least give the boys
the benefit of finishing the class before sending them to the auction
block.

We began the following year with three sections of UMI. Since I was most
knowledgable about the curriculum, they asked me to teach the new class of
14-year-old boys. I would have to figure out how to adapt my coursework to
suit them. In spite of their tender ages, I still had to prepare them for
future enslavement. The school hired a retired older slave trainer to take
on the 16-year-old boys, and they chose a young man who had worked for a
fine slave trading establishment to teach the 15-year-olds.

The year did not go well. Two months into the year it was discovered that
the young instructor for the middle boys had been coercing his free boy
students to suck his cock. Not only was he fired, he was enslaved and sent
off to the auction house in Monterey. That's a lesson for anyone who
doesn't take our laws seriously and tries to have sex with underage free
boys.

By that time, enough of the 16-year-old boys had been sold that their class
had dwindled down to a few. So the school combined those students into one
class with the 15-year-olds and gave them to the older slave trainer. Soon
after that boys were reported with serious injuries. Their teacher had
drawn blood in his punishments and he had not been following the guidelines
for punishments. He was fired, but not enslaved. Some parents of wounded
boys threatened to sue our school district, but it was shown that all the
skin abrasions would heal in a matter of months. I heard that older
instructor moved down to the Theocratic Republic of Dixie where he is
preparing teenage Dixie boys for future indenture.

So I was left to teach the youngest students on Saturdays, and then the
older boys in a Sunday session. When they pleaded with me to take on both
classes and promise to stay the following year, I could have negotiated for
higher pay. But instead I demanded that the school provide me with another
"bonus" from among the current student body.

Funny how I had been planning to retire. But now I was enjoying my teaching
job more than ever.

THE END











THE HISTORY & GEOGRAPHY OF NORTH AMERICA

It seems strange to me that the bulk of North America used to be one
nation. How is it possible that people with such diverse views and
attitudes could live together in one country? After the great shake-up of
society, the former United States split into a variety of smaller nations.

The Northeast started out as a group of competing nation-states, until they
were all merged into the Republic of Manhattan. This was the center of
power and wealth on our continent. The Theocratic Republic of Dixie had the
lowest level of education, but the highest church attendance. The Black
Dominant State of Alabama was independent of Dixie -- any white man who
spent too much time there was automatically enslaved. The Midwestern and
Great Lakes states had struggled, but now functioned as colonies of the
Republic of Manhattan. The mountain states could be pretty uncivilized. A
series of small nation-states were established and, after decades of
fighting among themselves, formed into the Great North Plains Federation of
States.

On the West Coast, the former states of Arizona and New Mexico, and the
southern part of California were all annexed by Mexico (making up for a
historic injustice). The central coast was formed into the Gay State of
Eureka. They had laws similar to the way Alabama governed whites. In
Eureka, if you were gay you could live as a free citizen. If you were
straight and stayed there for more than a certain number of days, you would
be automatically enslaved. North Eureka included the Puget Sound area and
that was totally inhabited by lesbians.

Indenture and enslavement were legal in all areas of North America. There
was a strong belief in letting the free market rule. Therefore, since there
was a market for good looking young males as pleasure slaves (and ugly,
brutish males to work in mines and factories), slavery made sense.

Outside of the Republic of Manhattan, Eureka became the most prosperous
part of the continent; this was because of their innovation and universal
education. Some areas that had sucked their resources dry and poisoned
their land with fracking and strip mining, didn't have much to trade
with. Both Dixie and the Great North Plains based part of their economies
on shipping boys off for sale on the coasts. Dixie was the main supplier
for slaveboys to the Republic of Manhattan, while the Great North Plains
provided boys to Eureka. Both of these areas had accepted this
inevitability: families came to believe it was their patriotic duty to
indenture their sons, and boys were encouraged to be brave in accepting
their fates.

I INVITE ANY AUTHOR WHO WANTS TO WRITE A STORY SET IN THE WORLD OF
UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE!



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