Date: Wed, 31 May 2006 22:10:34 -0700 (PDT) From: Hank M Subject: The Fate of a Poor Man's Son, part 4 I was turned on to this universe by the writing of Pete Brown UK. Heated up by some stories from Steam Train. These two authors directed me to the works of Richard Davies, One Ring, Total Reform and others. This story is set in a near-future world in which enslavement is the norm. This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get some help. _________________________________________________________________ By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo.com) The captain kept his word. Even though I'd been enslaved on June 1st, he was letting me finish up the last two weeks of high school so I could graduate. But I was living in a cage, made to jog to school, and only allowed to wear a pair of skimpy white briefs and cloth sneakers. My first day at school was filled with humiliation. My second day began with one bit of good news. It seems my history teacher, Mr. Drape, who was known to stand up for slave's rights, had protested to the principal about the fact that I was made to stand in each of my classes. The principal had acquiesced. He could not condone me sitting in a chair alongside free people, but he agreed I could sit on the floor near the back of each classroom. It was one more humiliation, but at least my legs didn't ache. At lunchtime I returned to the slave shed near the back of the school grounds. Only Noggy and Rolo were there, the third slave off on some assignment. Noggy actually had a real conversation with me while I ate my slave chow by hand. He asked me about myself and about my terms of enslavement. I found out that he had once had a family with two sons older than I was. He was enslaved when he stole a car and drove drunk, injuring another driver. "It was two broken fingers the other driver had. But the law's the law. I was enslaved for life." Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Rolo got on his knees, pulled out the older slave's cock, and began sucking it. I turned to face the other direction, pretending there was something interesting on the gray wall. I cleared my throat and said, "I'm not gay." Rolo lifted his head from his efforts and said, "Do you think I'm gay, buddy? Hell, I fought hard when the slave trainer tried to get me to learn how to suck. But, they have ways." He was about to turn back to the thick cock in front of him but added, "And it's not like they give slaves a chance to fuck pussy - unless they use you for breeding." As Noggy's cock slipped once more into the younger slave's mouth, he grinned and said, "Back when I was married and a dad I used to beat up homos. When I became a slave and they tried to get me to take cock down my throat and up my ass I put up such a fight they flogged the skin off my back three times over." I had seen how rough his back looked and I now understood why. Noggy leaned down and whispered something to Rolo. The younger slave grinned up at me and licked his lips. He asked, "You ever have that dick of yours in a nice warm mouth, boy?" That question sent a surge through me. I blushed and stammered. The two other slaves moved to where I was standing. Rolo paid no attention to my half-hearted protests as he peeled my briefs down to my knees and sank his mouth all the way onto my hard penis. Noggy took my hand and clasped it around his stiff rod. He had his hand over mine as he moved it up and down the length of his erection. The older slave met my eyes as he asked, "Haven't you ever jerked off a buddy?" I shook my head in the negative. I wanted to tell him this was the first cock I'd ever touched aside from my own, but I couldn't find the words. Since I'd started high school I had seen this powerfully built, blunt-faced slave working around the building and never gave him a second thought. Now here I was masturbating him as the younger slave gave me my first blowjob. Noggy's rough fingers were moving all over my smooth slim body. He was breathing hard as he grumbled, "Such nice soft hands you got, kid. Just like I'm being jacked off by a free boy. Hell, I'd lose my balls if I ever got a free boy into this shed stripped down and giving me a handjob like you're doing, Wally. Hell, I've seen you around school, boy. I've beat my meat thinking about you and all your pals on the track team, and what you'd look like stripped down. And now I finally have you..." With that my cock started spewing in Rolo's throat and Noggy's cock started shooting all over my fingers. Some of his spunk landed on my chest, my belly and my thighs. Even as his thick white cream landed on me, the door of the shed opened. My eyes went wide as I realized Coach Baker was standing there looking at us. The man who was the head of the athletic program at our school and who had been my coach on the track team was now taking in the whole scene. My face was flushed red as the coach turned and left without saying a word. The rest of the day I was filled with worry over what Coach Baker would do or say about the scene he had observed. But of course I was distracted by the many little indignities that I was already learning to expect as a slave. At one point I was standing at my locker trying to get the combination open so I could store a book I wouldn't need till the next day (I would later learn that the locker combination had been changed and all the contents sent to my father, since slaves couldn't own anything). A bunch of freshmen boys came up behind me and pulled down the thin white briefs. I dropped all my books as I struggled to regain my one article of clothing. But the boys tripped me so I ended up sprawled on my belly. Fingers traced the red marks left from the paddling the night before. I wanted to shout at them to fuck off, but I'd learned the previous day what would happen if I was disrespectful to free boys. Soon enough, Mr. Duffy, the health education teacher, shouted for the boys to get to class. I struggled to stand but before I could pull my shorts back into place I felt Mr. Duffy's fingers caressing my exposed ass cheeks. I shuddered. Everyone knew that Mr. Duffy was gay - he was very open and he talked about it in class. So now I had an acknowledged homosexual tenderly caressing my bare ass. He told me to report to his classroom. When I got to Mr. Duffy's classroom there were 30 boys for his freshmen health education class. In the back row I noticed my younger brother, Will. The teacher ordered me to turn my back to the class and bend over the front counter in the room. My briefs were instantly pushed all the way down my legs. This elicited chuckles from the boys in the room. I remembered the textbook for the class and remembered the delight Mr. Duffy had taken when I was a freshman showing us pictures of the results of paddling, caning, or whipping a slave's ass. Now he had a live model - me! He ordered the class to line up so they could each run their hands over the marks on my exposed ass. As they filed past and got their feels, some of them slapped my bottom cheeks. A few even tried to push a finger into my anus. Instead of reprimanding his students for their behavior, Mr. Duffy warned the boys, "You don't want to do that unless you know the slave has been cleaned properly inside." I suddenly remembered him making that same statement when I was in his class four years earlier, but the words hadn't meant anything to me back then. I kept my head down. I purposely didn't want to know which boy was doing what. But then I heard the softest whisper, "Wally, I'm so sorry man." I glanced to the side and saw my younger brother Will moving away as the next boy took his place. It was a small gesture. It didn't mean a thing. He had said it so softly that none of his classmates could hear him. He probably wasn't even certain I had heard him. But those five words meant the world to me. My briefs back in place, Mr. Duffy walked me to the door of the room. He pressed his fingers into the crack of my ass and whispered, "If I owned you, boy, me and my partner would be up this ass every single night." I simply said, "Yes, sir," as I'd been taught. At least he gave me to a note to bring to my teacher for the class time I had missed. I had been five minutes late to school that morning. Being able to sit on the floor during classes meant my legs weren't as strained as the previous day when I'd had to stand. I made it back to the captain's house in just the right amount of time. So my punishment for that night would only be five swats of the paddle. I don't know whether it's the fact that my skin had been toughened by the previous day's twelve swats or whether it was psychological, but the paddle didn't seem to hurt as much this second night. I suppose I had also gotten used to sleeping in the cage. I finished handwriting my history final paper and then curled up on the sleeping mat and finally had a good night's sleep. The following morning I got to school on time. The day started with history class and Mr. Drape brought me to the front of the room to talk about slavery. Eddie, the football quarterback, announced that his father said free men never had to listen to slaves and that slaves had no right to ever address a group of free men. Mr. Drape tried to explain his theory of education and what we could learn by listening to each other, but Eddie objected and simply left the room. Not ten minutes later Eddie returned with the principal, who sided with the quarterback and told Mr. Drape in no uncertain terms that a slave was not to be heard speaking in the classroom, not even to answer a question. Of course he never made any specific reference to me, even though I was the only slave in the room. I received a note right before lunch instructing me to get slave chow from the shed out back and then to report immediately to Coach Baker's office in the gym - he had requested that I help him in the storage room. I breathed a sigh of relief. I figured this meant the coach wasn't going to get me in trouble for the scene he'd walked in on the previous day with me and the two maintenance slaves. He had always shown he cared about me as a student and as a person. I figured he just wanted to get me away from their bad influence. The coach had been my mentor throughout high school. A lot of students considered Coach Baker mean or were scared or intimidated by him. But he was the closest I had to a friend on the faculty. When my mother had been ill and then died, the coach was supportive and generous, often staying to talk to me after school. Back when I was a freshman he said I had great potential and he had worked me hard to realize that potential. I had led our track team to become county champs and we had placed impressively in state competition. I looked forward to seeing the coach at lunchtime. He instructed me to eat my slave chow standing in his office as he ignored me and finished up some paperwork. Then he directed me to the equipment storage closet. I figured we would have one of our man-to-man talks like we'd often had before. But he locked the door, then leaned back against a shelf of mats and just looked at me. I suddenly felt awkward standing there in only the skimpy briefs. When I started to move he commanded, "Remain at slave rest position, boy." He had never used that tone in speaking to me before. I bowed my head, clasped my hands behind my back, and positioned my feet spread apart. He started feeling my muscles, pressing his fingers into my pecs, then my biceps, then into my thighs. "You haven't been at an auction, boy, have you? So you haven't had crowds of men examining you?" "No, sir," I quickly snapped. I hadn't intended to address him that way. I was counting on calling him "Coach" like I always had. But there was something about his manner. This was not going to be a man-to-man chat. Coach Baker was treating me like the slave I was. "You've been a slave less than a week and you're already sucking slave cock, boy?" "N-no, sir, never." "What did I see going on in that shed yesterday at lunch, boy?" Why was the coach spitting the word "boy" at me with such venom. "C-coach, they came up to me and offered oral... well, I had never before had a mouth..." My face was flushed deep red. "And that's why you were playing with the penis of that rough nasty-looking old slave, Noggy? Are you sexually aroused by Noggy's penis, boy?" "No, coach, no way. You know me coach. I'm not like that..." I had broken the slave rest pose to take a step closer to him and the coach was not going to stand for that. His face was inches from me as he lectured me loudly about calling him "sir" and about maintaining proper slave decorum. "You know that a slave must tell the truth to a free man. You know you would be punished severely for lying to me, don't you, boy?" "Y-yes, sir." "Have you ever had a penis in your mouth, boy? Have you ever had one in your ass?" "No, sir. Never anything like that, sir." "At your new household, where you're serving as a slave - you haven't yet been used for sex, boy?" I shook my head vigorously. "No, sir!" I wanted to go on to tell Coach Baker about the guard at the courthouse who wanted to rape my bottom, but who stopped when he found out I belonged to Captain Winston. But Coach Baker never gave me a chance. I was starting to think that, in spite of his tone of voice, the coach still cared about me - he was concerned about what had been done to me. But just as I was having warm feelings once more for this man, he started to push down his sweatpants and then his jockstrap. His cock was thick and hairy and already semi-erect. I looked from his cock up to his face, not sure what he wanted. "You used your hand on that ugly old slave yesterday. The least I could expect from you is a nice slow handjob, slave." "Y-yes, sir," I answered obediently. I reached out my hand and began stroking his cock. He pushed up his shirt and told me to use my other hand to rub and pull on his nipples. While I did this he started feeling me up with both his hands, tugging my nipples and squeezing my balls roughly. It seemed as if he wanted to test just how tough I was, or else that he wanted to hurt me. He looked quite serious as he said, "I'm not gay, you know. Doing things with a slaveboy isn't the same as doing things with free men." He closed his eyes and then moaned, "If the captain gave me permission I would fuck your ass so damn hard and long you'd never forget I'd been up there." What could I say? "Yes, sir." I'd been at the school for four years and never imagined there were so many men looking at my ass with such interest. Or was it only because I was a slave that men were thinking about using me for sex? The coach made a sudden grab for my hand and then his cock started shooting jizz that landed on my chest, on my belly, and on my white briefs. As he turned away from me, he gave me one paper towel to wipe myself. The rest of the day I was in a daze, which hardly mattered because suddenly - in classes where I had been a star pupil - I was invisible to all my teachers. I figured the edict must have gone out from Mr. Tucci about not allowing a slave to answer any questions in class. The good news was that I made good time arriving back at the house. The bad news was that the captain's older son, Brad, had returned home from college that very day.