Date: Mon, 01 Jan 2024 04:50:22 +0000
From: slaveboyblue <slaveboyblue@protonmail.com>
Subject: Owen Thompson: Enslaved - Chapter 2

Please find below a part 2 of Owen Thompson: Enslaved submission. Themes
are focused around slavery in an authoritarian context as before.
Recommended categorisation: /nifty/gay/authoritarian
Confirmed checklist (including no restricted items / no incest)

Thanks
____

Mr Moffat sighed as he pulled into the local superstore near his home.
'Wait here' he barked at Owen, who was sitting in the back seat, as he
got out of the car and locked the doors.

He was glad to be out of the awkward atmosphere in the car. No, he told
himself, it wasn't awkward. Why would it be? The boy sitting in his car
was a slave, a slave which he owned, and it wasn't a person. Heck, he'd
checked a box and the boy had had his testicles removed, just like that.
He needed to pull himself together, he told himself, or this wasn't going
to work.

The slave section of the store was at the back of the building, although
surprisingly big. He'd never had cause to go there before, but he guessed
that it'd form part of the regular grocery run now. Food, he thought, I
need slave food; he came to the slave chow section, the exact same as
sold at the auction house of course, there was after all only 1 permitted
slave chow produced centrally, but half the price here. He picked up the
while bag, similar to the sort which would contain pet food; a cartoon of
a smiling blond slave was on the front, being fed into some kind of
machine which had a plate of what was presumably supposed to be slave
chow being pumped out. 'Hilarious', he murmured to himself; as part of
his research prior to purchasing his own slave, he had searched online
for how slave chow was made - it was mainly plant based, flavorless
tofu-like cubes, with the protein coming from 'meat-like products'
produced by the slave rendering plant, as illustrated by the cartoon on
the pack - truly efficient recycling.

The store also stocked official slave paddles, which he spent some time
looking over, taking it in his hand and feeling the weight. It was
heavier than the one he had at home, though not absurdly so; he couldn't
justify the price, and set the paddle back, he didn't see why he couldn't
just use the one he already had - he was sure his son wouldn't mind.

The car door suddenly opened and Mr Moffat got back in, pulling Owen out
of his daydream. Mr Moffat turned to Owen, looking him in the eyes
'what's your name?'

'Owen Thompson sir' Owen responded

Mr Moffat thought for a second 'you can keep Owen as your name'

Mr Moffat felt himself loosening up, his mini-pep talk in the store had
worked. He explained, no, told Owen that he was bought to help out around
the house and yard, they both worked hard but didn't make that much, and
didn't have much time to spare; He'd also mentioned that he'd be made to
work for the church his family attended, while they were at services on
Sunday; it was common teaching that slaves did not have souls, although
perhaps some good would come of Owen working there, Mr Moffat thought to
himself.

'Have you been spanked before?', was the next question asked of Owen

Owen looked upwards, thinking. 'um, I guess the bailiff slapped my bum a
couple of times at my trial, so if you count that I suppose...'. Owned
stopped abruptly, recognising annoyance in Mr Moffat's eyes...'I mean no
sir, I haven't'. Owen felt he'd likely have been hit in some way if he'd
been within range.

'You'll be punished with a paddle if needed' Mr Moffat continued.

Owen nodded, this was no surprise to him, he knew that paddling was the
standard disciplinary tool for slaves, he'd expected no less.

Mr Moffat leaned back towards Owen, hooking 2 fingers into the front of
his orange boxers and pulling them out and down, revealing Owen's 2.5
inch penis and now smooth area where his testicles had been until earlier
that day. 'Look', Mr Moffat had said, 'I can imagine this is tough, but I
have a daughter at home, and a wife. It's for their safety'

'Yes sir, I understand' Owen murmured, not sure what more to say as his
new owner held his boxers open.

'Do you know what will happen if you were ever to do something which
would harm them, Owen?' Mr Moffat asked in a suddenly serious tone,
releasing Owen's boxers at the same time.

'Y..Yes sir' Owen whispered quietly, not looking Mr Moffat in the eye

'What will they do Owen?', Mr Moffat asked

'The slave department will kill me' Owen choked out the words. He had had
plenty of time to study that pamphlet

'Yes Owen, they'd hang you' Mr Moffat stated clearly 'Look at me Owen,
are my family safe around you?'

Owen looked up at his new owner. 'Yes sir, i don't want to die sir' Owen
said in a whiny tone that reminded Mr Moffat of when his son was getting
close to having his fanny paddled.

'Good' Mr Moffat responded, pulling the truck out of the parking spot and
driving the short distance home.