Date: Thu, 25 Mar 2021 06:18:13 +0000
From: whipped@protonmail.com
Subject: Interfering with a slave collar

This is a work of fiction. All characters in it are over 18 and you must
be over 18 to read it. It takes place in an alternative America where
slavery is legal and slaves over 18 can be used for sex. The main
character enslaves himself and finds out what it actually means to be
another man's property.

Never do anything like this in real life. Respect others, report any
suspected abuse, and wear protection in real life.

Don't let your hormones get you into trouble.

And consider donating to Nifty if you enjoy this or other stories.

Interfering with a slave collar

Part One

The room was freezing cold. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed
to be at Julie Mason's birthday party.
This whole thing was because of her.
I was video chatting with her and she asked about my dad's company. He
rented and leased slaves, mostly for menial labor. I told her about the
collar delivered that day for dad's newest slave and she asked me to try
it on.
I wouldn't have done it, but the key was right next to it.
I stripped to my boxers, put it around my neck, clicked it into place,
and started posing for her.
She started finger banging herself right there on cam, telling me how
sexy I looked.
I came quick as fuck watching her.
Then I tried to take it off.
The key didn't work.
I tried for ten minutes and the key was stuck in it.
I got it out again, but it still wouldn't come off. Finally, she told me
to just come over and she'd fix it.
I should have been freaking the fuck out, but I figured she could get it
off easy.
I almost made it to her house.
I was two blocks away when I heard the patrol car. They flipped on their
lights, parked, and I watched as two built cops got out and walked over
to me.
The bigger one looked at me and said, "Looks like a fucking runner to
me."
I laughed and tried to tell him the story, but before I could I was on
the ground.
The other cop had tased me.
I was still shaking as he scanned my collar with a handheld device and
said, "Jonathan Kinley, 22, enslaved last week for drunk driving and
vehicular homicide."
And then a gag was in my mouth, I was cuffed, and brought to this cell.
It was four hours later when I finally saw my dad. I was hauled by a
different cop, still gagged, into a courtroom. My dad was on the opposite
side of the room. I was put in a defendant's box. For some reason, my
dad's bank manager, Solace Winslow, was next to him.
The judge was a kind looking older man. He looked sort of like Santa
Claus.
He looked at me and said, "They are going to remove the gag, son. Answer
my questions. No other talk, okay? This is an indenturement hearing."
I nodded.
A new cop wearing a slave police badge ungagged me.
He said:
It says you found the collar in your house, put it on yourself, then left
the house where the master lived and were caught and brought here. Is
that accurate?
I nodded again.
He sighed.
Then he said, "No one forced you to do this? You did it of your own free
will."
I said, "Yes, sir, as a joke."
He gestured for the cop with the slave police badge to regag me.
Then he turned to my father and said:
Everything appears to be in order. As the owner of the collar, the damage
was done to you and therefore the indenturement is legal and disposition
of the property is left to you.
My father said, "Thank you, your honor. I will turn in the bank paperwork
and lien information to the clerk."
The judge nodded and then turned to me.
I thought he was going to order them to remove my collar.
He didn't.
He said:
David Thomas Williams, your rights as a free citizen are hereby rescinded
and you are to be registered as a common slave. Serve your master well
and do your duty to the state. As you enslaved yourself using a collar
belonging to Jackson Williams, you will pay additional restitution for
interfering with the collar meant for Jonothan Kinley and be meted out
the mandatory punishment
Then he gaveled away my freedom.

Part Two

I was taken back to my cell then. I was in shock and figured this had to
be some kind of prank. Like, maybe one of those hidden camera shows.
Then the slave cop from earlier entered my cell and told me to strip. I
started shaking my head and he pulled out a small whip from his pocket. I
had seen them used before, but only on real slaves.
I was still shaking my head when the whip hit my chest.
I screamed and pulled back away from him, until my back was up against
the wall.
He just looked at me and said, "30 seconds to get undressed, slave,
before I start whipping and don't stop."
I obeyed.
I stripped to my underwear and stood there, embarrassed.
He said, "All of it."
I took my underwear off and he pulled some of those orange skin tight
short slave shorts out of his pocket.
The color was so slaves couldn't hide. And they were made of lycra or
something so skin tight.
I put them on as he watched.
They crushed my junk, but I stood there in them and the collar and
waited.
He nodded, then left me alone again.

Part Three

It was maybe an hour later when my dad showed up. He was still in the
suit from court, but had loosened the tie. He hated ties. He was 5'11,
190 pounds, had salt and pepper hair, and a tan.
We looked nothing alike.
I jumped up and ran to him.
He had to fix this. He would fix this. We didn't always get along, but he
was my dad.
He looked at me through the bars and said:
You need to understand I didn't want to do this and never would have on
my own. But we have had some money trouble. I made some bad investments.
You collaring yourself fixes some of that. The bank agreed to my using
you as human collateral for what was owed, as long as you're trained as a
house slave. They'll be checking. As long as things pick up, you'll be
fine. I can even free you soon.
I tried to talk, but nothing intelligible came out through the gag.
He looked at me and I thought he would take the gag out.
He didn't.
Instead, he said:
You'll serve at home. You can finish school online. You have to
understand how much you are worth, son. You're 18, blonde, fit,
attractive, middle class. Petite. Men love slaveboys like you. You're
like a status symbol. I can buy 5 grunts for what the bank gave me for
you. Barely anything will change.
Then he saw my chest. His eyes widened a little from the whip mark.
And then he turned and left.

Part 4

I can't remember most of the next day. I fell asleep in the cell and woke
up to the door being opened.
Then I was led to a line of other collared kids. Most of them looked
rough. I was the only normal looking guy there.
I remember them scanning my collar and the lady at the desk shouting,
"Haircut, laser, GPS, delousing, and five for interference!"
It was done like the way fast food people shout orders.
Then I was led to a salon chair. I had spent a year growing my hair out
to my chin.
She gave me a slavecut in thirty seconds. All slaves had to have the left
side completely shaved to show the collar and gps. The right side she cut
the hair to just above my ear.
Then I was taken to a room with a bunch of technician looking people and
hospital type beds. Everyone in the beds was gagged, collared,
restrained, and were jumping up everytime this little wand touched them
and light flashed.
I was led to a bed and strapped down. I tried but couldn't move my arms
or legs or much of anything.
A technician walked over to me and I found out why everyone was jumping.
The little light wand she had in her hand flashed and it was like getting
hit by a rubber band wherever it touched. Over and over.
She started with my face and then worked her way down.
I could smell that burning hair smell too.
When she got to my junk, she shaved it first.
I don't remember after that for a while because I blacked out the second
the laser hit my balls.
I must have been turned over, though, because I woke up on my stomach.
And she was done.
A man was turning my head around and feeling the shaved slave side.
I couldn't see him from the angle I was at.
Then there was a sharp pain.
I bucked, but it lasted only a second.
He whispered:
You can't escape now, son. That tracker is linked to every cell tower and
satellite in the world. They could find you anywhere. Be respectful, call
every freeman master, and you might survive this.
Then he let go of my head and walked away whistling.
The next part, I really don't remember. I remember being let up from the
bed and then some guy spraying baby powder like stuff all over me. Then I
remember being rinsed off. I remember seeing friends from school laughing
when they saw me in the collar and slave shorts with the slave haircut.
I even remember my hands being lifted up and tied to the post.
I don't remember the whipping.
The last thing I remember before waking up to a doctor applying ointment
to my skin and bandaging me was an announcer saying, "David Thomas
Williams: Five lashes for interference with a collar."
But even without the full memory, the real memory, it broke me.

Part 5

I was delivered with five other slaves to my father's house.
They were nothing like me. The youngest was probably in his late twenties
and the oldest forty or fifty something. They all had kind of bad skin.
It was pockmarked or rough looking. They were also tall, hairy, muscular,
and even had tattoos.
We were lined up for inspection.
Part of me expected him to cry or do something when he saw my back and
the whipmarks or my haircut.
He didn't.
He walked up to the first slave and said, "You're headed to the mines,
slave."
The slave replied, "Yes, master. Thank you, master."
He did the same thing with three more. The fourth he was sending to work
at a warehouse nearby.
Then he got to me.
He touched my face. Then he turned my head to the slave side, with the
gps.
He smiled at me and said, "You look good, boy. House slave."
I don't know what I thought would happen, but I just sort of froze.
He looked at me.
I realized what he wanted.
I said, "Yes, master. Thank you, master."
And then he was gone.

Part Six

I thought I'd be back in my room, but I wasn't taken there at all. I was
taken to Mirabelle's old room. She had been our house slave until dad
sold her a few weeks ago.
Her room was off the kitchen and just consisted of a bed, a sink, and a
small drawer for clothes. Like all slave rooms, the lock was on the
outside so I had no real privacy.
Dad's business manager, a slave named Freddy, woke me at 6 am with a list
of chores. I asked him why it was him, instead of my dad, and he just
said, "Your master is busy."
I spent the next three days not seeing my dad at all.
I cooked breakfast and left it on a tray at his door like Mirabelle used
to do. Then I did laundry and cleaned the house until lunch time. After
that, I had to work out until it was time for dinner.
Then it was time to shower.
The first shower was scary.
Our slaves all showered in a giant room with no privacy. When they saw me
undress, some of the bigger ones smiled and came over to me.
The biggest pushed me against a wall and I could feel him hardening
against my butt and thigh.
Then Freddy, who was showering two nozzles down, said, "He belongs to the
master. Touch him and you'll lose your balls."
The guy held on to me for a second before letting go and returning to his
showerhead.

Part Seven

My dad showed up at my door at 6. He looked at me and just said, "You'll
be serving at dinner tonight, slave. I expect you to be obedient, polite,
and responsive to our needs."
He hesitated, touched the whip he always carried at his side, and then
said, "You made your choice when you put on that collar. You know what I
do to slaves who displease me."
And I did.
I was five the first time I saw him use that whip. A slave had dropped an
expensive bottle of wine and he stopped eating, apologized to the guests,
put the young slave against the wall, and whipped him right there.
I was ten the first time I saw him use the whipping post. That slave had
gotten pregnant. He had given her a pill to get rid of the baby, then
lashed her until she bled while I watched.
I knew what he did to slaves who disobeyed or displeased him.
I got ready for dinner as best I could. I took a shower and dried my hair
and put on a new pair of the slave shorts. My bandages had come off, but
my back was still healing.
I couldn't do anything about it since all I was allowed to wear was the
collar and shorts.
The caterer handed me the first dish and I walked into the dining room.
Tex was there.
Tex was one of my dad's biggest clients. I had known him for years. His
real name was Anthony Smith, but everyone called him Tex because he had a
southern accent and dressed like a cowboy. He was in his late fifties,
six foot tall, 240 pounds or so, and had grey hair. He was wearing a
cowboy hat, tight blue jeans, a button up shirt, and a black sports coat.
I froze for one second, then delivered the first course and rushed back
to the kitchen.
I didn't know what to think or do. Tex had always been nice to me, but
that made this dinner a very big deal. Dad would have flogged me for
making Tex angry before I had this collar on. 90% of our slaves were
leased to Tex for his mines or real estate projects.
This could go very bad.
For him and me.
My freedom defended on dad's business doing good.
I was sitting down the main course when Tex grabbed my hand.
He said, "Let me see you, boy."
I stepped back and looked at him.
He laughed and said, "Well, god damn. It's little fucking Davey."
Then he looked at my dad and said, "He for sale?"
I tensed. A lot.
Then my dad shook his head and said, "Expanding the business. Needed
collateral."
Tex said, "Hmm."
Then Tex turned my body around and ran his his fingers up and down the
whipmarks on my back.
I gasped.
Tex said, "Common slave? Full use? Whipmarks show it's not a game. You
fucked him yet?"
My dad shook his head.
I expected him to say something then. I don't know. Maybe defend my honor
or his. Say I wasn't a fag.
He didn't.
Tex said then, "I don't like play slaves. Bad for moral. Need to make
sure he knows his place."
Then my dad said, "Yes, sir. "
And they went back to eating.

Part Eight

Tex and my dad had a tradition. Dinner, then cigars. I was never allowed
to stay past dessert before.
I wish I hadn't this time.
I came in to clear the plates and realized something was different.
Tex looked at my dad and said, "Nothing like a blowjob and a cigar, is
there Jackson?
Then Tex looked at me and said, "Under the table, Davey."
I looked at my dad and he nodded.
I got on my knees and crawled under the table.
Tex's jeans were laying on the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned and his
belly hanging over his waist.
His cock wasn't hard, but was at least six inches with a thick mushroom
head. His balls were like golf balls and hanging low in his sack.
I knelt there for a second, frozen, still expecting my dad to say stop
and make this end.
Instead, Tex said, 'Wrap those lips around my dick, slave."
I hovered over it, then remembered the woman being whipped and the slave
who broke the wine.
I picked his cock up with my left hand and put it in my mouth.
It tasted like sweat and salt and felt rubbery and soft and hard in my
mouth.
I guess I expected directions or something, but he and my dad just talked
with the wet sounds of me sucking dick feeling the empty silences.
They talked about business and movies and Tex's family and ranch. They
talked about everything, but me.
The only acknowledgment that I was on my knees under the table sucking
dick was when Tex told me to lick his balls and then they laughed about
some slave they had shared.
My jaw was aching, but I knew I couldn't just stop. He had gotten hard
and I had started gagging and choking on his dick, but he hadn't cum.
And then I heard Tex put the cigar out and he said, "Get me the lube,
Jack."
I couldn't hear a reply, but I heard a cabinet open and foot steps.
Then Tex pushed my head off him and stood up.
I had a moment of relief.
Then he took his shirt the rest of the way off.
He reached down for me, lifted me up under my arms, and turned me to face
my dad.
He smiled and said to my dad, "The straight ones that were born free are
always the most fun to break."
Then he said to me, "Take off the shorts and bend over the table."
My dad's hand was hovering over his whip so I obeyed. I slid the shorts
down and then bent over the table I ate every night at my whole life
until this week.
Tex started running his hands up and down my body. He massaged my butt
cheeks.
Then I heard a lid pop. I looked at my dad, terrified.
Then I felt it. The hard cock that had been in my mouth pressing into my
butt. It was slick and wet from my saliva and the lube.
Then he pushed it in.
I screamed as he grunted. It felt like my ass was being torn open. He
lowered his body on top of mine and I could feel his body hair and weight
on me.
I looked at my dad, but he just looked away.
And then Tex grunted and thrust hard enough in me the table moved.
I realized I was crying and had started whispering please over and over.
Tex ignored me and started talking to my dad as he fucked me.
"Kid has a tight pussy. Like that widow's boy in Topeka. Almost hurts the
little cocksucker is so tight."
I exhaled, inhaled, then bit my lip as he crammed even more in.
Tex kept talking, saying, "He needs lessons on sucking dick, though. I've
had two dollar whores without fear of the whip give better head."
He wrapped his arm around my neck then, held me in place, and started
pulling out and deep thrusting. I was whimpering and crying by then.
Tex whispered in my ear, "I should have done this year's ago, boy."
The pain was so intense I thought I was going to die. It felt like a huge
hard metal rod shoved up nine inches in my ass over and over.
As I laid under him, crying, Tex said, "Nothing teaches a slave his place
like a merciless fuck while former loved ones watched. Ain't that right,
Davey? You're learning your place? As a cocksucker, slave, and piece of
ass?"
He rammed hard as I answered, "Yes, master."
He laughed. He spit on the side of my head that was shaved and I felt it
running down my head and then face.
He lifted my head up then and pointed my face at my dad's.
Then he said, "He needs to really know you're chattel, boy, not his son
anymore. Tell him that and what you just told me."
He slowed down his fucking, let me catch my breath, and I did it.
I said, " I'm not your son anymore, I'm your slave. A cocksucker and
piece of ass."
Tex started grunting then and fucking harder and harder and harder. His
sweat was dripping all over me and I could smell the cigar and his
cologne.
And then it happened.
He grunted, growled, and I felt his dick flex and then shoot in my ass.
Once, twice, then three times.
And he got up off me and pulled out.
I fell to the floor when he pulled out.
My knees were weak and I felt torn inside.
He didn't let me rest.
He gripped my head by the hair and said, "Clean it up and thank me."
I looked at his dick, slimy, covered in my butt juices and cum, but I
knew better than to disobey him.
I used my mouth and cleaned him off.
Then I thanked him.
Afterwards, he dismissed me.
I heard his car pull away at nine and then Freddy came in.
He just said, "The master wants you in the media room."
I had taken a shower, but I could still feel Tex's cum in me. I still
felt his spit hitting my face. His weight on me.
The media room door was open. My dad was sitting on the lower couch
looking through a vanilla folder when I walked in.
He gestured for me to come over and said, "Let me look at you."
I stood there, collared in front of my dad, after he let his friend fuck
me. I was shaking, trying not to cry.
He turned me around and pulled my butt cheeks apart, looking at my hole.
Then he turned me back around.
He said:
I'm going to talk to you like you were still my son for a minute. I still
intend to free you, if I make money. But for now, you're a slave and I'm
going to expect the same thing from you I'd expect from any other slave.
Especially one so young and smooth and pretty.
Then he pressed down on my shoulders, until I was on my knees in front of
the couch. He flipped the theatre screen on and I heard porn music start.
I turned to look, briefly saw a young girl undressing, and then he turned
my head around.

Jackson

I unzipped my pants and took my uncut cock out. I stick a finger in my
boy's mouth and enjoyed how soft his lips were and how wet his mouth was
just on it.
Then I said, "If I feel teeth, you'll get the whip."
And I pressed his head down until his pretty slave lips were filled with
my dick.
I wasn't lying to him about freeing him. Not really. I wanted an heir to
the company and my family name and he wasn't a bad kid.
But I wasn't sure I wanted that heir to have been a human dick ditch or
be scarred from the whip either.
I'd figure that out later.
For now, I focused on nutting in his throat.
I had been hard since I first heard the wet sound of Tex in his mouth. I
had almost cum in my pants watching Tex break him in. Watching a fat man
lay into his little body and put him in his place had me precumming like
crazy.
And now his throat. I gripped his head and fucked it the way you fuck
slaveboy throat. I thrust balls deep on every stroke, ignored his gagging
and choking, and held him down on it until he almost passed out.
And when I finally came, I made him swallow the first load and then show
me the rest.
He opened his mouth and my cum just leaked off his tongue and down his
chin.
I pointed to the floor and he licked it up.
When I said clean me, it was the first time I felt his tongue on my
balls.
It wouldn't be the last.

Part 9

I did a lot of crying that week. Dad didn't even seem to see me as me
anymore. He didn't use my name at all. Just slave or slaveboy. When he
learned the other slaves were calling me Cula or Culattone instead of
Davey, he started using that as my name too.
And the blowjobs didn't stop.
Every night, usually around ten, he called me into his office or media
room. Sometimes, he watched porn.
Sometimes, he watched me.
Then, one day, he showed up in the slave showers.
I didn't know he was there until I heard the other slaves go quiet.
His deep voice echoed in the room, over the water, as he said, "Carry
on."
I turned to face him and saw he was naked. And hard.
He said to me, "Face the wall, Cula."
I turned to face the wall. I was already covered in soap and my blond
hair wet with shampoo.
He told two of the men near me, "Hold his arms."
I started to shake. This was something new. He had never come in here.
I felt the men grab my hands and lift them one to each side and against
the wall.
Then he fucked me.

Jackson

It took my over a week to realize there was no point in delaying my
pleasure.
Slave pussy, especially pretty young slaveboy pussy, existed to get
fucked.
It would have been wrong to fuck my son Davey. Illegal, even.
But this was a slave. This Cula wasn't Davey, not anymore.
He was chattel.
I'd fucked far uglier slaves.
Why was I denying myself pleasure every master deserved?
That thought and remembering his ass and face as Tex used his asshole
made me so hard I went to find him and truly turn him out.
And it was worth it.
His asshole was slick from soap and wet and my dick slid in halfway on
the first thrust.
He forget himself and said, "Dad, please, don't."
I grunted and said, "Master, slave."
The next few minutes were heavenly.
For me.
His whimpering kept me rock hard as I treated the way I should have in
the first place.
I pushed him hard against the wall and let his tight velvet asshole grip
my dick as I slammed into him over and over and over again.
And then, like most sluts, he started liking it.
Oh, he was still crying. But his dick got hard.
And by the time I finished in him, he came.
I looked at him, belly covered in his own jizz, ass leaking my jizz.
Then I spit on him and said, "I thought your pussy would be tighter,
Cula."
And I walked out.

Davey

I slumped in the shower, confused. My ass hurt. I felt humilated. My own
dad had just fucked me up the ass.
And spit on me.
But I had cum.
It was like mixed in with all the pain he was hitting something. My dick
started leaking precum. Then hardening. Then it's like he fucked the cum
out of me.
I wasn't a fag.
What was happening to me?