Date: Mon, 7 Nov 2016 00:48:38 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo.com>
Subject: UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE 2: CHUCK'S STORY

UNDERSTANDING MODERN INDENTURE: CHUCK'S STORY

by Master Redbeardr=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 not of
legal age or you're breakingsome law by reading this, go away now. Also, if
you have trouble tellingfantasy 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
menare sold to be pleasure slaves and older men dominate. There is
dominance/submission,bondage/discipline, enforced nudity, spanking,
paddling and "boy" humiliation.

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

# # #

DONATE TO NIFTY! Without Nifty where would you go to read stories like
this? Really!

# # #

This story is a follow-up to UNDERSTANDING MDDERN INDENTURE CLASS by Master
Redbeard

THE SETUP:

In the New North America, the former United States is split into smaller
nations. 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 wealthier regions of the continent. To help ease and
encourage this transition for certain teen boys (the most desirable boys),
schools offer Understanding Modern Indenture Classes in their junior year
of high school.

In the first "Understanding Modern Indenture Class" story, Dr. Handley, a
pioneer in teaching this curriculum, described a particularly memorable
year with a group of his 16-year-old students. In this story we hear from
Chuck, a student in that very same class, who has a different perspective
on the curriculum and the events of the year. Chuck is surprised and upset
when he is "invited" (ordered) to join the UMI class. It turns out to be a
surprising year with an unexpected outcome for Chuck.



# # #



AS TOLD BY CHUCK, FORMER STUDENT & SLAVEBOY





CHAPTER 1: CHUCK GOES TO CLASS

It was awkward for me to read my former professor's story about the year I
spent as his student in Understanding Modern Indenture class. I mean, just
imagine how funny you would feel to read your teacher's sexual opinion
about your ass? And then to read his version of what happened in the park
in Gaytown when I spermed inside my blue boxer shorts and went home with
spunk dripping down my left leg -- damn, that was the most embarrassing
moment of my life up to that time. Since then I've served as a slaveboy, so
I've learned plenty more about embarrassment and humiliation.

My story won't take you too much beyond what Dr. Handley told in his
story. But it will give you another point of view. I was one of those boys
being stripped, humiliated, fondled, felt up, masturbated, and trained to
become a slaveboy. In Dr. Handley's version it sounded like he coordinated
all that stuff with 18 boys singlehandedly. Truth be told, there were
enough slave traders, volunteer dads, or just men from the town who enjoyed
helping out. Well, maybe it's more accurate to say there were men who
enjoyed seeing and feeling up a bunch of nearly naked teen boys.

Let's face the truth. They tell you that the class is about learning the
indenture industry (indenture is a much nicer word than slavery). They say
it could lead to jobs as a slave trainer or a trader or even in slave
transport or slave accessories. But it's really a class to get cute teenage
boys to accept their fates; to get us used to taking orders, being naked
and being touched by other guys.

Everyone knows that slaveboys are used for sex! Well, maybe not the rough
and ugly ones who are sent down to the mines. But good looking teenage guys
were always destined for the "personal services" market. That could mean a
slaveboy is doing housework in some suburban kitchen. Or it could mean the
slaveboy is trapped in some sleazy brothel on the other side of the
world. Either way, the boy is going to take dick up his butt. But they
would never tell us that in our UMI class. I kept asking the professor.

I remember when my dad got the notice that I was "accepted" into the
Understanding Modern Indenture class. Even though it was worded as an
acceptance letter, it was really an order from the state. We were told
"Your fathers aren't obligated to sell you at any future date, but they are
obligated to send you to the class." Both the dads and their boys knew that
once a boy was UMI certified, it added as much as 20% more value to his
sale price. At the same time, once a boy was in UMI class, the chances of
his father enslaving him nearly doubled. On top of that, my 16th birthday
fell the day before UMI class began, so I qualified just under the wire for
this year's class.

It really pissed me off that I got called up for UMI. I had done everything
to stay under the radar at my high school. I never joined any sports teams
or any clubs. My pants were so loose on me they only stayed up with a
belt. I wore baggy black sweatshirts and hid my face under hats and
hoods. The only thing that could have called attention to me was my
skateboarding, because I was damn good. I went everywhere on a board. In
the hilly country where we live, I feel like a board is safer than a bike
-- well, at least the way I ride them.

When I showed up for the first Saturday of UMI class, I was curious to see
which other boys would be there. I had very few surprises when I saw the
boys from my own school. They were the jocks, the fratboy types, the
popular good-looking boys. There were a few boys I didn't know, boys who
had been homeschooled, but they looked pretty much the same as our school
jocks. I didn't see where I fit in.

I had a good body, but it didn't have the definition of the boys who played
sports and lifted weights. I remember when we were stripped to underpants
and they weighed us on the first day, I was 147 lbs and 5'11". Dr. Handley
said I was too skinny. He said, "Any owner will want to bulk you up, boy."
Then he proceeded to feel me up in my boxer shorts. Officially he was
examining the merchandise. But I knew the old guy was copping a feel.

Did Dr. Handley even mention in his version of the story that he is an
avowed homosexual? The government of the Nation State of Boise had
purposely hired him to teach the boys in UMI class. The government
education people knew what they were doing. The very first day of class I
stood there stripped to my boxers in slave display position, with my hands
behind my head, and I had to submit silently as a homosexual felt me
up. And this had all been ordained by the government.

As soon as I felt the man's hands go rubbing then tweaking both of my
nipples (and I had to stand perfectly still, not reacting in any way), it
was obvious that I was being trained to be an obedient slaveboy. And my
body was responding to that training in an unexpected way. When my
professor put his hand down the back of my striped boxers and fondled my
butt cheeks, I felt the fabric on the front of my underpants rub over my
dickhead. I shuddered a little bit. I didn't cum, just a minor tremor. When
I looked down there was a spot of wetness on the front of my boxers,
emphasizing the head of my stiff prick.

Dr. Handley came around me and brushed two fingers over the wet cotton that
encased my erection. He chuckled and said, "Looks like we've got an eager
one here." You better believe that when class ended I ran out of there and
headed home before anyone could talk to me. I wasn't about to be labeled
The Eager One.

But here's the truth: That night when I stripped down to take a shower, I
stood in my boxers in front of the full length mirror on the back of the
bathroom door. It was the only mirror in our house that would show all of
me. I took slave display position with my hands behind my head and looked
at myself. At that moment I imagined that there were dozens of homosexuals
looking me over, making rude comments about my erection and ready to feel
me up in the rudest ways before bidding on me. I pulled down just the back
of my boxers, imagining that I was revealing my butt cheeks to the crowd of
gays.

I barely reached down to touch my dick and I shot off in my underpants. It
took me a long minute to catch my breath. I looked down and saw the wet
patch on the front of my boxer shorts. Even though I was alone, I
blushed. Once I was in the shower, I imagined that gays were watching me
shower and bidding on me and I shot off again. I jerked off another two
times that night still thinking about what it would be like to be sold as a
slaveboy for homos.

How the hell did this happen? I had always believed I was straight. If you
put a naked girl in front of me, I'd bone up in under two seconds. But I
wouldn't bone up for a naked guy. I thought about what my professor would
look like without his clothes, and I was totally grossed out. I knew I
wasn't turned on to guys. But I was strangely aroused by the idea of a
strong older man controlling me.

Damn! They talked about this in my lower grades. The teacher said, "Some
people just have a slave mentality." All the kids laughed. Then that became
our favorite playground taunt: "You've got a slave mentality." In high
school they talked about slave mentality in a more serious way, teaching us
about personality types. But their focus in that lesson was that "even boys
without a slave mentality, can do great as slaves."

I worked extra hard the day after my first UMI class, chopping wood and
fertilizing the rutabaga crop. I just wanted to keep my body so busy I
couldn't stop to think about what had happened to me in class and how horny
it made me. But even with all the sweat and strain on Sunday, I still kept
boning up in my overalls.













CHAPTER 2: CHUCK'S TRAINING CONTINUES

When we all arrived for the second class session, we were ordered to change
into the white briefs they had given us.  When I started high school I
insisted dad had to buy me boxer shorts, to me white briefs were underpants
for little boys. Eventually my father paid a sewing lady to take in the
waist on some of his older boxers. But she still left the waistline a
little loose (so I could grow into them). I had a lot of pairs of loudly
patterned boxer shorts where the seat was almost worn through, and they
kept sliding down my hips. So I wasn't so eager to display my
underpants. But tighty whities were what young boys wore, and walking
around in a tight pair of white briefs made me feel like I was a little
kid.

Before they started the body shaving, Dr. Handley took a series of close-up
photographs of each of the boys. He said they needed a record of how much
hair we each had around our dicks and on our balls. We even had to turn
around, bend over, and spread our buttcheeks for a photo of our
assholes. Then the professor himself stroked my dick to full erection for
photos and official measurements.

After all my body hair was shaved off, I felt even more like a little
boy. Even though I was 5'11" I felt somehow lowly, like I shouldn't put
myself on a level with real men. Damn! They had me thinking that way as of
the second class session. They did get into my head. And they were getting
me to think like a slaveboy.

When Dr. Handley wrote about the first shaving day, he made it sound like
he was all alone showing nine pairs of naked boys how to safely shave a
guy's balls. I was paired that day with this freckle-faced boy we called
Red. Red and I had Mr. McGhee helping us to shave each other. Actually we
had that enormous, gross man fondling our junk, and using shaving cream to
toy with our cocks and masturbate us into frustration. Mr. McGhee also
spent a long time checking out our cracks to see whether anything needed to
be shaved back there. As he fingered both of our buttholes, I could see the
enormous erection down the left leg of his checkered pants. He didn't do
anything to try to hide it. When we were done he grinned at the two of us
and licked his lips.

I felt really dirty when that happened. But I also felt a nervous tingling
that made my dick throb.

I'd rather not go into details about the enemas. I thought the whole thing
was gross, and didn't even like having to stick my greased up finger into
Red's asshole to make it slippery for the enema nozzle. But after that
week, we all had to give ourselves enemas before class and we were
inspected at the start of each class to make sure we had shaved and cleaned
ourselves thoroughly.

The following week I got a lot of smacks on my ass because of stray hairs I
had left on my body. I talked to some of the other boys who hadn't gotten
any smacks, and each of them told me they had help shaving. Connor lived
with his grandfather and he told me that the old man had helped shave his
pubes and his butt. For Red, it was his little brother who shaved him. He
admitted it was humiliating and that the younger boy had mocked his older,
more developed brother, but at least Red was shaved clean and had gotten
away without any punishment that week. Tino, the boy who was half-Italian,
half-Latino, lived on a farm quite a few miles away, so he boarded during
the school week with an old guy in town. That old guy helped shave Tino
smooth. Some other boys just blushed when I asked about their shaving and
didn't want to talk about who helped them.

Since it was just me and my dad at home, the following week I asked dad to
help me. When he shaved around my dick and balls I couldn't help getting a
boner. He told me it was natural, he tried to act cool, but he talked to me
about becoming a slave. "So you are gonna sell me, dad?" I asked him
bluntly.

"Well, son, you know how bad the crops have been for the last few years."

"You know what the homos are gonna do to me if you sell me to them, don't
you, sir?"

Dad paused and then softly said, "The sphincter is a very resilient
muscle." He was finished shaving me and I was standing there naked with a
boner sticking out from my body. Dad looked me over and said, "You might as
well get used to taking commands and exposing yourself, boy. Go on, jerk
off."

I was stunned. If dad ever saw me with a hard-on before, it had been
accidental and quickly covered up. Now I was fully exposed and shaved
hairless in front of him, and he was ordering me to masturbate
myself. After just a few Understanding Modern Indenture classes, it felt as
if this was appropriate. I stroked my cock as he watched. When I got close,
he put his hands under my cockhead to catch my load as it shot out. When he
brought his cum-filled hands up to my lips I knew what he wanted me to
do. I licked up my spunk and sucked on his fingers.

The lesson in masturbating another guy was a memorable class. Our professor
had three men helping him that day, but they weren't any of his usual
guests and we hadn't seen any of these men before. Dr. Handley chose
partners randomly and put me with Connor, the hulking football
player. Actually, I was almost as tall as Connor, but didn't have his
muscle definition. The professor randomly selected me and Connor for the
demonstration in front of class (I had started to think that maybe his
selections weren't totally random). That particular day in class led to a
friendship between me and the dark-haired athlete.

I had to start off stroking Connor's dick, but doing it the way I liked to
play with my own dick. Connor had to remain silent for this first
part. After a few minutes of this the whole class discussed why it hadn't
been a good handjob for Connor. Then I was told to pay attention to
Connor's instructions. He spoke and told me he liked his dick pulled harder
than I did. He also liked his balls tugged down as I jerked him off. When
Connor shot all over my hands, I figured I would feed the jock his own
sperm. But I was ordered to lick my hands in this case. This was the first
time I tasted spunk that wasn't from my own dick.

Then it was Connor's turn to jerk my cock. His hand was way too rough at
first. But then he listened to me and used a gentler touch to make my cock
feel really good. He made me cum into a small dish that one of our guests
held under my dick head. Those men who were visiting kept going around to
all the boys, touching, inspecting, even taking some close up pictures of
our junk or our butts. They spent a lot of time with me and Connor. I knew
they were mostly interested in Connor, but some of them said nice things
about my dick and my ass. When the dish was filled with my load of cum,
Connor had to lick it all up in front of the other boys and our guests.

It's odd when you've thought of yourself as a straight boy all your life to
hear men talking about your naked ass. One of these guests insisted I had
"the best cheeks in the room." When the next man said he thought Connor was
superior in every way, the first one insisted, "Yeh, but look at the nice
round cheeks on this one." I felt goosebumps on my butt hearing them talk
about me that way. When we were all leaving class at the end of the day one
of the other boys leaned to me and whispered, "You know those visitors were
from Eureka." I turned back to look at them laughing with Dr. Handley. Of
course, it made sense that they'd come from the all-gay nation to look over
Boise's future "merchandise."

After each UMI class my father would ask me what we had done that day. At
the start I was embarrassed to tell him. But then dad showed up for one of
the classes. For that week he was one of the guests who was there to help
Dr. Handley with us boys. Toward the end of the day, the professor assigned
me to give my dad a handjob. It was standard that one of the boys would be
assigned to masturbate each of our guests each week. After all, we were
being trained to follow another guy's instructions for how to pleasure his
dick.

I had been boned up in my plaid boxer shorts for hours. My father had been
showing a tent in his tan slacks most of the day. With the rest of the
class watching, I had to undress my dad and neatly fold his clothes. He was
laughing nervously as he stood there in his boxers, a big wet spot marking
the tip of his tent. When I stripped off my father's underpants, his thick
cock popped up stiff. Dr. Handley chuckled and said, "I can see where Chuck
gets his big one."

My father said that he would be more comfortable laying or sitting. So he
was given a big comfortable chair and I knelt beside him and wrapped my
fingers around his thick cock. I stroked him up and down as he told me how
he liked his cock touched. The professor encouraged him to express all of
his likes and dislikes. My dad wanted his chest played with and his nipples
pinched and tugged. Then as he really got into it, he declared that it had
been such a long time since anyone had licked his nipples. Dr. Handley
immediately ordered me to lean across my father's body so I could lick and
suck his nipples. I had to lean against my father's big hairy body to get
my lips on his nipples. I felt his hairiness press into my smooth skin. As
I licked and sucked, I kept getting hairs in my mouth.

Then the professor encouraged my dad to "enjoy the boy," and told him to
touch me anyway he liked. My father's big hand pushed down the back of my
boxers so that my ass cheeks were revealed to everyone else in the
room. Then he was massaging and squeezing my cheeks. As I ran my hand
quicker up and down his thick erection, he started spanking my ass. He
hadn't actually spanked me since I was 12 and back then it was through my
tighty whities, but now I could feel my exposed ass stinging from his
powerful hand smacks.

My dad's load started shooting out of his dick so fast I wasn't prepared
for it. The first blast went up in the air and then landed on his hairy
chest. I did my best to get my other hand at the head of his cock to try to
catch the rest of his sperm. But much of the mess was already dripping down
into his auburn pubes and between his thighs. Of course I was ordered to
lick up all the excess spunk. My face was in my dad's thick bush, licking
the jizz out of the hairs. Then I was down between his legs, licking the
cream that had landed on his balls and was dripping between his hairy
thighs. I even had to return to his chest where his first blast of cum had
landed.

As I continued licking diligently, Dr. Handley was telling my dad that
"your boy needs experience washing a man in the shower. He should be doing
that for you on a daily basis, just for the practice." From that point on,
I regularly washed my father's naked body in the shower. Of course when I
washed his dick and balls he would get a hard-on, so then it was time for
me to masturbate him. Now, aside from feeling like I was being turned into
a slaveboy each Saturday at school, I felt like I was a
slaveboy-in-training in my house with my own dad.

One time when I had a really private conversation with Connor, I told him
about everything I did for my dad's dick. Connor just looked back at me
blankly and then said, "Well, my grandfather says once I'm sold to the gays
I'll have to learn to use my mouth... y'know, use my lips and tongue on
cocks and all. Well, he says if I'm slow at doing it or if I gag or use my
teeth, that I'll get beaten. Grandpa doesn't want me to get beaten." I knew
that Connor lived alone with his retired-Marine grandfather, and the boy
didn't have to complete his story. I just looked back at him and said, "So
you're sucking off your grandpa's cock?" He grinned back at me broadly and
replied, "Yeh, he's really good about teaching me. He says pretty soon
he'll be able to fuck my face." I just continued in silence, wondering
whether I should be getting that same sort of practice with my father.

Then came the week when we were put in cock cages. Of course the boys in
the class had heard this was going to happen, just as we had heard about
the body shaving and masturbation. But we didn't know when it was going to
happen, and didn't really know details. Prior to having the cage put on my
cock, I was making jokes about it. But as soon as it was snapped in place,
I felt anxious. I felt my dick throb against the plastic and metal
device. But I couldn't get an erection, and I absolutely couldn't touch my
cock.

For the next few days I was angry all the time, at every little thing. Then
I woke up in the middle of the night on Tuesday and felt a wetness all over
my thighs and my crotch. I pulled back the blanket and realized I had shot
off spontaneously during a wet dream. I felt more relaxed, but also sticky
and messy. I got into the shower and washed the spunk off me. My dad woke
up then and came to check on me. When he saw that I'd cum on myself, he
just laughed and headed back toward his bedroom. But then he thought better
of it, and had me masturbate him before he returned to bed.

I was so wound up by the following Saturday morning, I couldn't sit still
or stand still. It's like my legs wanted to keep on scissoring in and
out. I mean, it has to be unnatural to expect any 16-year-old boy to go a
full week without touching his cock. But of course when we got back to
class the following Saturday, Dr. Handley took his time about removing our
cock cages. And as soon as my cage was removed and my boxer shorts pulled
back into place, my hands were cuffed behind my back so I couldn't touch
myself.

Each of us was wearing our free boy underpants. It was the first time I was
wearing these new boxers my dad bought me. He wasn't big on gifts, but
after visiting my class he told me he wanted me to have some new underpants
to wear. He bought me four new pairs of boxer shorts, each with bright
colorful patterns (which I would never have chosen). This pair was bright
blue with little vintage artwork of palm trees and beach scenes -- it was
like a dumb joke to wear them up here in the Rocky Mountains.

All of us boys had our cocks released and were immediately handcuffed. Then
we were attached to the back of an open truck used for UMI class. As we
drove through town, anyone we passed could look into the truck and see the
group of us, chained helplessly, our dicks fully stiff and straining
against our own free boy underpants. I was surprised when the truck went
past the park where we usually worked on community service projects. Then
we left town and I had no idea where we were going. I was confused because
I didn't even know the UMI class could be taken out of town.

I kept looking down at my erection trapped in my boxers. After a week of
having my cock locked up, of course it was fully stiff and begging for
attention. But with my hands cuffed behind me I couldn't touch myself. And
I was chained in such a way that I couldn't rub my dick against anything,
not even against another boy.

After driving quite a distance, I realized we were heading toward the
Gaytown section of Capitol City. I saw we were on the main street of
Gaytown and there were men pointing at us as we passed. When we stopped at
a light, some men came up to the open backed truck and started touching the
boys. I felt rough hands feeling my pecs. I shouted out, "Hey, we're not
slaveboys!"

The man fondling my chest smacked me hard across my face. "Maybe not
slaveboys YET! But you are trainees and it is valid for any free man to
examine the merchandise."

Dr. Handley leaned out the window to look back at the altercation and
added, "Also, when these boys are out like this as trainees, it is
incumbent on them to address all free men as sir. Don't sorry, sir, that
boy will be punished."

Maybe it was having gone a week without masturbating, but I felt especially
angry and frustrated. We drove to a park in Gaytown and it was clear that
local residents had been told about the visit from 16-year-old UMI boys who
would be working in their free boy underpants. There were men there
watching us and only too eager to touch us. I felt hands reaching out and
grabbing me, fondling me and pinching me. I just squirmed to try to dodge
them and kept my head down. I didn't want to get anymore punishment than
I'd already earned.

When we were off the truck, our professor grabbed me by the collar and led
me up to a platform. I saw a crowd of dozens of gay men watching as he
leaned me forward across a raised surface and pulled down the back of my
boxers. Then he turned to tell the crowd that I had been rude to a free
man. The cheeks on my face burned red knowing that most all of these older
men in this crowd were homosexuals and enjoying the sight of my exposed
butt cheeks in a very sexual way. Dr. Handley gave me 10 hand spanks. That
may not sound like much, but his hand can deliver a wallop. My buttcheeks
turned redder than my face by the time he was finished.

When my professor sent me back to the group of boys, someone in the crowd
shouted out, "Now punish the one in the jockstrap." I looked over at Connor
and he was looking down at the ground, his face flushed. Connor had been
wearing his jockstrap under a pair of grey PE gym shorts -- the layers were
his way to try to hide his boner after removal of the cock cage. But
Dr. Handley wouldn't accept that the gym shorts counted as underpants. So
he had forced Connor to strip to just his jockstrap for our field trip to
Gaytown. The big athlete's firm buttcheeks were exposed to all the gays
gathered around us.

Soon after, our paving project was forgotten. Dr. Handley announced, "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 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." You should have heard the
homosexuals cheer that announcement.

And so we were paraded in front of the gays, so they could "examine" us. As
I said before, examining was just a fancy word for copping a feel. I was
chained helplessly with my hands cuffed behind my back and my temporary
green collar attached to the collars of five other boys. Our group was led
by Dr. Handley, but we could hardly move for all the men who wanted to
touch Connor's chest and his exposed ass. The other boys in our group also
got attention.

Then there was a big overweight man in front of me and he was playing with
my nipples. I had never played with my nipples before UMI class. But during
class sessions I discovered my nipples were a very erogenous zone for
me. Rubbing my nipples guaranteed that my dick would be fully stiff. But as
this man played with my chest, I was already throbbing hard in my
boxers. His buddy, who was also a big husky guy, was behind me feeling up
my ass cheeks through my boxers, and jabbing his leather-covered boner
against my butt.

That's when it suddenly happened. My cock had been caged for a week. I
hadn't shot any jizz since my wet dream the previous Tuesday night. The
sensations of the two large men feeling me up, put me over the top. Even
though nobody was touching my penis, the contact with the thin fabric of my
underpants was enough and I started to shoot my load. The trouble was, my
hard-on was inside the bright blue boxers. With all that stored up spunk,
my cock kept on pulsing and each pulse shot out more cream.

The inside of my underpants was coated with thick gooey gobs of my
spunk. There was a big wet spot on the left side of my boxers. Then the
spot grew wider and some of my jizz ricocheted off the inside of my
underpants and raced down my left leg. I had been through embarrassing
things as part of my UMI class, but this was beyond anything else I had
experienced. My cock was still pulsing and creaming and the crowd of gay
men surrounding us was cheering. My dick was trapped in a gooey mess inside
my boxers. I couldn't look up from the ground. I didn't want to look anyone
in the eyes.

Dr. Handley dragged me over to a low wall. This time he used a paddle and
only gave me five whacks. When the fifth blow landed on my reddened ass, I
felt something warm and wet splash on my backside. Some men were
laughing. I tried to discreetly glance to the side and I saw the big hairy
man in leather who had been playing with my ass earlier. He had his cock
out and he had just shot his load across my exposed butt.

If I'd had my hands free I would have at least tried to wipe some of it
away before pulling up my boxers. But I suppose Dr. Handley wanted to
reinforce my humiliation. He pulled up my brightly patterned
underpants. The wet spot on the front felt cold against my skin, and the
wet spot on my ass was turning cold as well. The spunk running down my left
leg was dripping all the way to my feet, and was soon joined by the fat
man's spunk dripping down the back of my right thigh. I was still like that
when I was chained up in the back of the truck. I just closed my eyes
during the ride back to our class building. Even as hands reached into the
truck and grabbed at my body, I never opened my eyes and never reacted.

We werem't given a chance to wash off before putting our regular clothes
back on. I went home still feeling sticky and still feeling degraded. Dad
saw that there was something wrong and insisted I tell him. Even after I
told him how humiliating it had been, he still wanted to hear the details.

Somehow I thought my father would be outraged when I told him what
happened. Two big hairy homosexuals, each of them older than my dad, had
felt me up and played with my body and made me shoot my wad in public in
the middle of Gaytown. But dad just nodded. He approved of what Dr. Handley
had done. "He's a smart man, son. And they've clearly given a lot of
thought and planning to this curriculum. What happens two years from now if
you're on an auction floor being examined by men -- maybe even the same two
men who were touching you today -- and you lash out at them? Good lord,
son, I don't want to see you beaten and whipped! And if a slaveboy up for
auction has punishment marks on him, no nice household would ever buy him."

I didn't know what to say in response to that. So I just nodded and told
him I needed to shower and take a nap. I will confess now that after my
shower, when I got to my bedroom, all I wanted to do was jerk off thinking
about what had happened. I imagined that those two gross hairy men who
touched me that day were buying me. My dad was right. They might very well
be my future owners. I jerked off three times thinking about how it felt to
be displayed and punished in front of the crowd of gays.













CHAPTER 3: AND THEN EVERYTHING CHANGED

I had gone through most of the school year in UMI class. In another six
months I would be 17 and one year closer to becoming a slaveboy at age
18. At that point I was philosophical about it. It would help my dad and me
financially, and as my dad often said to me, "The sphincter is a very
resilient muscle." (Still each time I thought about some homosexual man
bringing me home as his newly purchased slaveboy, my buttcheeks clenched
together.)

This one particular Saturday morning my dad was acting strange. He made me
a big breakfast, something he never did. And he gave me a hug as I was
leaving for my UMI class. I had to ask, "Hey, what's going on? Is something
wrong?"

He just smiled at me, brushed my hair off my forehead, and said, "I'm just
feeling old this morning, son. Glad to have my boy with me... for now." I
didn't read anything into his choice of words, just went to class and did
all the usual stuff. But at the end of the day, Dr. Handley called for four
of us to stay. He pulled out papers and said our fathers had signed off to
allow us to go through "a much more realistic indenture experience."
Dr. Handley said he was taking the four of us someplace where there were
fewer rules restricting what they could do to us. Somehow that made me
shiver with fear, but at the same time it made my dick chub up in the white
briefs.

There was no time for the four of us to talk. I was chained and gagged in
the back of the van across from Connor. We just looked at each other, both
questioning what was going on. He and I had become friends by that
time. Next to me was Lars, a slim blond boy who I barely knew him outside
UMI class. He had a hard body and I found out he was a topnotch gymnast and
swimmer. Tino was the fourth boy, dark, sharp features and his lean body
was beautifully sculpted -- he was a wrestler and had 8-pack abs.

We were in the van a long time. I think they spiked the water with
something to help us calm down and sleep, and I was dozing off for most of
the ride. When we finally stopped, the four of us were marched in chains
into the back of some building. Once inside, it quickly became clear that
this was a slave auction house. A chill ran through me as it didn't seem
like we were in the Great North Plains Federation anymore. I figured they
had brought us here to freak us out, and 18 months in the future I might be
in this very auction house waiting to be examined and sold.

Dr. Handley held off on telling us the truth -- the age of indenture had
suddenly been lowered to 16 and all of us would be available for sale
immediately. Our fathers had already signed off. Actually, it was Saturday
evening and we would be sold on Monday. Apparently the government people
had to ratify this law or something like that.

The four of us wore our green collars and white briefs, so it was clear to
anyone that we were trainees and not fully enslaved. But we were chained
together as our professor led us on a tour of the facilities. We stopped at
one station and the gruff workman there insisted on pulling down the backs
of each of our undershorts. He felt my ass and did the same to the other
boys. Then he said, "I can't wait till I get my hands on these boys." I
just took a deep breath. There would be many moments like that.

They couldn't give us our real slaveboy collars until Monday after this new
law about age of full use came into effect. But they put thin silver wires
around our cocks and behind our balls. Any small bit of defiance from one
of us boys and he would feel an electric shock rush through his balls. It
was usually just a mild unpleasantness, but any of the masters in that
place could raise the amount of power that would course through a boy's
balls. (We were told that any free man who worked in the slave auction
house was to be called Master, and obeyed like one.)

When it got late, cock cages were locked in place over each of our
dicks. Then our hands were cuffed behind our backs and we were each pushed
into our own small cage. Each cage had a bowl of slave chow and a bowl of
water. We had practiced in UMI class what it was like to eat from a dog
bowl with our hands cuffed behind our backs, so we could only use our
mouths. This is how some masters liked to see their slaveboys fed. Because
of lessons from Dr. Handley I had learned to lap water with my tongue and
get a fully satisfying drink.

Lying in the cage that night, my cock locked up so even the start of an
erection would be painful, I thought a lot about Dr. Handley. Some of the
guys grumbled about him, but I reminded them that Handley wasn't the one
who set up the whole system of indenture. He wasn't the one who promoted
the government ideas of "the free market above all else" and "monetizing
all assets, including your sons." I mean, even if our professor had voted
for the politicians who did promote all those things, he had prepared us
well for this moment. I was helplessly caged and cuffed, aware that I would
be sold as a slaveboy in less than 45 hours. But I knew that Handley had
prepared me to handle whatever happened.

On Sunday, the auction people put our bodies to work. First we were all
made to run 5 miles, which was 20 times around their track. We each had to
do a rigorous workout using machines. These machines had been pre-set with
the amount of weight and number of reps each of us was to do. If we didn't
meet those numbers, we would get an electric sting behind our balls. As the
workout became more difficult and more of us were aching, the jolt of the
electricity was turned up. Now a boy would jump up each time electricity
was shot through his balls.

Poor Lars dropped his weights and slumped forward, declaring, "I can't... I
can't do it anymore." We all heard the electric buzz and watched as the
blond boy convulsed and then fell to the floor. We knew he had been hit
with a really big jolt of power. So we all turned back to our machines and
put in the most effort we could. Lars was helped back into his machine by
one of the slave trainers on the staff. Then the lean blond athlete took a
deep breath and kept going, doing one more rep, two more reps, closing off
his mind to everything except the weights he had to move.

After we had a light meal of more slave chow and water, they kept us at
physical labor, though less strenuous than the morning's agenda. This time
the four of us were working together to build a wooden fence for an
enclosure. I kept glancing over and seeing men who were taking notes on
what they observed. I wasn't sure that the auction house actually needed an
enclosure built. But I figured they wanted to see if each of us could pull
his own weight, use tools, work cooperatively and solve problems to get a
task done. I think we did pretty well.

That night we were put back into our cages handcuffed as we had been the
previous night. I was sleeping when I heard a noise. There were a lot of
noises, since a lot went on in this building. But this was the noise of
people in the room with us. I blinked and saw movement. Two dark figures
were opening Connor's cage, which was next to mine. When they pulled him
upright, I heard him whisper, "Please, d-don't hurt me... sirs."

When I heard the first man laugh, I knew it was the workman who had stopped
us on our tour of the slave preparation facilities, the one who felt our
butts and said he couldn't wait to get his hands on us. It appeared he
didn't intend to wait getting his hands on Connor.

There was a loud smack and I knew that the hand had either smacked Connor's
face or ass cheeks. Then the gruff man addressed Connor, "Look kid, if we
do anything to lower your sale value, we're both gonna get lifetime
indenture. So we know we can't take your ass cherry." A small light was
turned on. I could see the workman from the slave prep area and his hard
dick was sticking out of his fly. Next to him was a younger guy, probably a
teen near our age. who looked like a replica of the older man. This teen
boy had his hand in his pocket, clearly playing with his dick as he looked
us over.

The workman was caressing Connor's hair and his face. "In a few hours
you're going to officially be a slaveboy, and then any man can have any
kinda sex with you... well, any man who could afford to buy or rent you. If
it weren't for this sudden change from the legislature, you would have
another year or two of freedom to look forward to." He had a really mean
laugh. "But right now you're still legally a free straight teenager. It
would be immoral and illegal for any adult to stick his cock into the mouth
of a free boy like you." The man pushed his dripping cockhead against
Connor's lips. He snarled down, "Have you ever taken a cock in your mouth
before, boy?"

There was a moment of confusion on Connor's face. Then he stammered, "N-no,
sir. I've been straight, sir. I never took cock in my mouth, sir." I knew
Connor was lying. He had been sucking off his grandfather for most of this
school year. His grandfather had convinced the boy that getting this
cocksucking experience would ease his transition into enslavement.

Connor's lips were forced open and a dirty uncut cock was stuffed in. He
gagged. I don't think he was putting on a show. I'm sure Connor's
grandfather had never used his mouth as roughly as this. The man was
standing up, holding Connor's face hard against his body. Then Connor was
pushed back onto the floor. The man landed on his face and stuffed his
thick cock into the boy's throat once again. His big body jiggled as he
bounced up and down, slamming his dick against the back of the big
athlete's throat.

At the same time, his younger partner lifted Connor's legs in the air. I
was scared at that moment. The man had said they couldn't take Connor's
cherry, but they had the dark-haired stud in position for fucking. Connor
was ordered to reach down and spread his cheeks open, revealing his
anus. Meanwhile the younger guy knelt between Connor's spread legs and
jerked off all over the big athlete's butt. Some of his spunk seems to have
landed right on the pink flesh of Connor's spread asshole.

The two intruders put Connor back in his cage and then they put their
clothes in order. Connor looked over to me, grinned and winked. He had been
boasting to me how talented he had become at sucking his grandfather's
thick cock. He said his grandfather could face fuck him or even hold his
body hard against the boy's face, while Connor had to hold his
breath. While the tall athlete was proud of all that, he knew that as a new
slaveboy it was better to tell free men that he didn't have that
experience. (Then they'd be more impressed by how quickly he learned.)

As the two guys plunged the room back into darkness, the younger said,
"Gee, dad, that was the best `bring your son to work' day ever. The big
dumb jock reminded me of that school bully I told you about. He's a year
ahead of me and plays on the football team, dad. I'd sure like to see
Peyton all naked in a cage down here, daddy."

His father patted the boy on the head and said, "We'll see what we can do
for you, son." Then the two of them left and it was just as if they had
never been there.

The following morning we were exercised and by the time we were through the
legislature had completed doing its thing and we were officially declared
slaveboys. (Dr. Handley had taken us over the Eureka border to the town of
Winnemucca. As a border town it was famous for its auctions and easy sales
of slaveboys. It was well known that when a stepdad or other relative
wanted to get rid of a boy, he would bring the lad to Winnemucca. There
were a lot of sleazy slave dealers in that town. But we had been brought to
the most exclusive and most expensive dealership.)

Dr. Handley was there for the induction when all four of us were lined up
naked and declared slaveboys, indentured for the following five years. I
think I saw him shed a little tear even as he grinned from ear to ear. Then
we had our GPS devices implanted under our left armpits. There was a tattoo
of an S on the upper right of our chests and ones on our left
buttcheeks. (We had been told these tattoos were easy to remove once they
were five years old.) Then came the heavy metal collars.

We were put through another round of cleanings, inside and out, and
shavings. Then we were dressed in our freshly-laundered free boy underpants
and ushered into a fancy drawing room, hands cuffed to the D-rings on the
sides of our metal collars. There was a small group of men mingling
about. A white-haired gentleman tapped a glass to get everyone's
attention. He pointed to us lined up against a wall and said, "This is the
very first shipment, gentlemen... heheh, the law was only changed today in
the Great North Plains, and this is the first group of 16-year-boys made
available for sale." The men in the room seemed genuinely surprised and
they applauded politely. The white-haired man continued, "Since you
gentlemen are our prize clients, the men who have shown a true appreciation
for the products we sell, we wanted you to be the first to examine our
newest pieces of merchandise."

I remembered that day in the park in Gaytown, when the men had felt me up
-- how humiliating that had been for me. That was nothing compared to the
way these finely-dressed gentlemen were kneading and pulling at my
flesh. Someone was smacking my ass really hard. The white-haired man
stepped forward with a smile on his face and said, "Now, now, Felix. You
know it would lower his value to go out on stage with a red bottom." The
smacking stopped, but now men were fingering my ass. I looked over at the
other boys. They were all being played with, and there was special interest
in their butts. I felt a finger up my hole, then I felt a thicker finger,
and then two fingers. I thought my skin would rip when three fingers pushed
into me. Once again the white-haired man intervened. "We don't want the boy
stretched out for his new owner."

Then we were left in peace. Truly, they left us alone in a room and said,
"Consider this like you are in the slave quarters. You are free to talk
quietly." The four of us talked very quietly, still with our hands cuffed
to our collars. We were remembering our hometown of Boise, remembering our
school, most especially remembering Dr. Handley and all he had taught us in
Understanding Modern Indenture class. At that moment I wished there was a
way to thank him before we were brought out to the auction bloc.

Each of us was placed in a frame. My right hand was attached to the upper
right corner. My left hand went to the upper left corner. My legs were
spread in the same way so that my body made an X. I was wearing my free boy
boxer shorts, a brightly checked pattern that my dad had bought for me. The
rest of my body was smooth and glistening from the shaving and oiling that
had just been done.

Each of these frames was on wheels. It could be set in a stationery
position, or it could easily slide. They were going to just slide all of us
out onto the stage, then spin the frames around when men wanted to see our
butts. One of the auctioneers stood beside us and nodded, "It's going to be
a little while before we bring you boys out. They've already been told that
tonight's special merchandise would be 16-year-old boys from GNP, the first
batch we've ever sold. But you'll be the final items on tonight's program."
It was nice of him to fill us in like that.

But just then my attention turned to Dr. Handley talking with some official
looking rotund man. I don't know how their conversation started but the
important-looking man pointed to the four of us on our frames and
announced, "Pick one of them. We will give you a signing bonus of one of
these slaveboys." Then there was more conversation I couldn't hear. And
then Dr. Handley was pointing at me. My frame was pulled aside from the
others. I saw my three classmates being wheeled out onto the auction stage.













CHAPTER 4: CHUCK IS OWNED

It took time for them to unfasten me from the frame. Dr. Handley had gone
off with the rotund man to do paperwork. I was left hanging and listening
to the loud voice of the auctioneer out on the stage. "Look at this one,
gentlemen. He's wearing the same tighty whities that he put on Saturday
morning to go to his high school class. He was a free boy back then on
Saturday, putting on his free boy white briefs." I knew he was talking
about Lars, the slender blond boy. "And now those briefs are pulled down
for your enjoyment, gentlemen." I heard the whoops and catcalls from the
crowd. This man knew how to get them worked up. "See what he looks like
with all his body hair shaved. For those men out there who have some
fatherly feelings..." (loud laughter) "or grandfatherly feelings..."
(louder, more sustained laughter), "this boy may be just what you're
looking for."

I realized my cock was dribbling in my boxers listening to the scene on the
auction stage. I imagined myself bound and stripped in front of all those
hundreds of gay men, and it was making my cock jump and throb and drip
pre-cum.

Then I heard the auctioneer go on about Connor, and from his description he
was feeling and fondling all of the young athlete's muscles. I heard a loud
slap that reverberated and knew it must have been on Connor's firm ass
cheeks. Then the auctioneer said something about "If this is what the boy's
body looks like at 16, can you imagine what three years of hard training
will do to him? How'd you like to buy this sexy 16-year-old with plans to
turn him into a 19-year-old pony slave pulling your traps and wagons into
town." There was a cheer from the crowd.

But then I was fully detached from my frame by the time the auctioneer
turned to Tino. I stood at slave rest position, hands behind my back, legs
spread. I was still in the checked boxer shorts. Dr. Handley put a leash on
my collar and led me out of the auction house. When we were outside he was
practically dancing his way to the car they had loaned him to bring me back
to Boise. He pulled open the door on the passenger side and said, "They
gave me a cage to carry you, but I'd rather you sit in the front seat of
the car with me."

I climbed into the car, he put the seat belt and shoulder harness on me,
and then he leaned across my body and started kissing me hard on the
mouth. His tongue pushed into my mouth. I could taste whiskey and cigars on
his breath, but I accepted his tongue. We had never practiced kissing a guy
in our UMI class, so it was new to me. Thinking about kissing an old guy
like Dr. Handley seemed kind of twisted. But now that I was doing it, now
that I was this man's property, I was being an obedient slaveboy and
kissing him back.

Then the man's lips went to my left ear. I felt his tongue tickle my ear as
he whispered, "The reason I chose you, my darling boy, is... I knew you
wanted this."

Now, I read Dr. Handley's version of how he drove me home from the auction
house in Winnemucca. He claimed that he put me in a cage in the trunk, when
I clearly remember sitting beside him. In fact, along the way he told me
that he liked company on a long drive, and he spent a lot of time reaching
over and fiddling with my body. I know that the version Dr. Handley told
was the proper and correct way to travel with a newly purchased
slaveboy. So the version he wrote would make it appear he followed all the
rules. But truthfully, I don't believe the old man was capable of carrying
me in a cage from his car into his house.

Once inside the professor's house, I fixed the two of us a little snack and
then my new master led me to his bathroom where I undressed him and washed
him in the shower. He grinned throughout and said, "It was good that you
washed your dad in the shower, boy -- good training." I was kneeling in
front of him as I finished washing his cock and balls. I put my fingers
lightly around his tool and looked up at him.

He looked down and chuckled, "You're not getting away with just a hand job
today, little buddy." He took me by the hand and led me to his bed. I had
somehow thought a master would chain me down to a horse to take my
cherry. But that wasn't what Dr. Handley wanted. He pulled me into his bed
as if we had just come home from a date. His big hairy body was laying on
top of my fully shaved body and grinding against me. His thick cock was
rubbing up and down and dripping pre-cum on my belly.

At the same time, the man was crazy to kiss me on the mouth and feed me his
tongue. I couldn't help feeling aroused by all of this. It wasn't that I
wanted to French kiss a hairy old man. But the fact that I was his property
and that I had to take his kisses made my hard cock leak.

Then my master did something completely unexpected. He started moving down
my body and licking me along the way. He sucked on my nipples, stuck his
tongue into my belly button, and wrapped his mouth around each of my
balls. Then he started to lick my cock and soon he was sucking me off. I
didn't know that a master would ever suck off a slaveboy. The old guy sure
knew what he was doing. He was able to take the full length of my dick down
his throat and just work his tongue along the bottom. I moaned with
pleasure.

As I remember, he masturbated me, had me catch my spunk in my hand and then
watched me lick it up. I don't know why, in his version of the story,
Dr. Handley wrote that I hadn't even tasted my own cum at that point. He
had observed me in UMI class licking up my own cum, and even licking up my
father's cum.

Once I had shot off, my master was eager to start teaching me how to
service a cock with my mouth. Dr. Handley had a big thick one and I gagged
quite a bit trying to get used to it. But I managed to do a fair job,
tickling his cock with my tongue while using my hand at the base of his
thick tool to jerk him off into my mouth. I thought he was close to
shooting his load, but he pulled out.

My master wanted me in a different position. I was lying on my back looking
up at him, with my legs over the old guy's shoulders. He started kissing me
passionately as I felt his cock head rub up and down along my ass
crack. Then he grabbed me around hard and shoved the thick head of his dick
into my hole. I gasped and cried out. He just kissed my face and kept on
saying, "Shhhhh, shhhhh, that's a good boy."

Then he was all the way inside me and rocking his body up and down, driving
his tool deep and then pulling it almost all the way out. My greatest fear
had always been having a dick up my butt, and this was a real thick and
long one. But I didn't realize the sensations I would feel as it massaged
my insides faster and harder. It was like my cock was being jerked off from
the inside. Then, given the position we were in, Dr. Handley's big hairy
belly was rubbing up and down against the sensitive underside of my cock. I
was stiff as iron again in spite of having just shot my load in my master's
hands.

This was the part that felt like he was trying to make love to me. It was
like he wanted me to be his gay boyfriend, and he was tenderly touching me
up, passionately kissing me, and riding my butt in a way that was almost
affectionate. It turned out that treating me like a boyfriend and making
love to me was one of my master's favorite ways to have sex with me. But he
liked other variations. Sometimes he would chain me up like I was a wild,
untamed slaveboy, just caught in the wild. During those sessions, he would
tell me to fight against him, but I could hardly do much with my hands
cuffed behind my knees. When we played like this, he would ram his cock
deep into me and fuck me hard and fast.

Dr. Handley liked to entertain. Men would often visit and my master would
begin with, "Now finally I have a slaveboy of my own I can share." The
first visit was the rotund man who had offered me as a bonus to my
professor back in Winnemucca. He was just as obese as I remembered him,
breathing hard as he licked his lips and felt me up.

"You're welcome to use his mouth. He's become quite good. But I'm not so
generous in sharing the boy's ass," my owner said.

This man was the head of some sort of institute that paid Dr. Handley's
salary, so he just grabbed me by the collar, dragged me toward the bedroom,
and said, "Well, that's wise, but certainly doesn't apply to me, man." The
huge man made me worship his repulsive body. I even had to lick under his
folds of fat. Then I sucked his balls as he sat on my face. Finally, he
fucked me but I had to lay on top of him and impale myself on his long thin
tool. The man was breathing hard as I rode his cock, and I was hoping he
would have a heart attack. After the obese man left, I had to change the
sheets and clean the bedroom because it stank of his vile body odor and
sweat.

Another time I had to service the three gay men from Eureka. The one
positive I'll say about that evening was that they really admired my body
and enjoyed feeling and fondling every bit of me. But they wouldn't stop
talking about how all the gays in Eureka would like me, and all the things
they'd want to do to me.

Dr. Handley often told me how lucky I was to be a slaveboy in Boise instead
of being in Eureka, where I'd be surrounded by gays everywhere I went --
gays who'd want to feel and fondle and grope and rape me. But I didn't feel
lucky being enslaved in my own hometown. Everywhere I went there were
people I knew.

I would accompany my master to the market to carry his shopping. There
would always be men I knew from town in the store, and they'd generally
stop to "examine the merchandise." That meant I had to stand in a public
place in nothing but my boxers, and have men grope me everywhere. Some of
them were very aggressive, like the town barber who'd been cutting my hair
since I was a little kid. He'd always stuff his hands down into the back of
my boxers and finger my ass crack. Then he'd grab my balls through the
fabric of my underpants and tug them, all the while grinning at me.

But the worst was when I'd be out with my master and run into boys I'd
known in school. My master would have to step in to keep them from punching
me in the stomach or abusing me in some other ways, just to test what they
could get away with doing to a slaveboy. And if I was on an errand without
my master, there was nobody to stop them doing what they wanted.

One time I was on my way to the hardware store, dressed in just my boxer
shorts and flip flops. I didn't need any money, as the store would just put
it on my master's account. But a block away from the store I ran into four
boys who were wearing school baseball uniforms. I recognized two of them,
but didn't know the others. They surrounded me and I tried to respond like
a good slaveboy, "Please, sirs, my master has sent me on an errand and he's
timing me."

The four of them shoved me into a vacant lot and started unzipping their
uniform pants. I was pushed to the ground and had each cock stuffed into my
mouth for sucking. Fortunately, most of them were quick on the trigger so
it didn't take too much time. But they left me with cum dripping down from
my lips and splashed all over my exposed chest. I had to proceed to the
hardware store like that. The old man who owned the store took me in back
and added his load down my throat as well. Unfortunately, he savored my
lips and tongue and took a long time to cum. My master was upset with me
for taking so much time on the errand.

After that, if my master wanted me to hurry, he would hang a sign around my
neck saying, "This indentured servant is on an errand for his master. Do
not delay him." But if he wasn't in a hurry and sent me out without a sign,
I'd generally be molested by men or boys.

But the thing I hated most of all was when Dr. Handley would take me into
his Understanding Modern Indenture class to demonstrate slave handling to
his class. These boys were younger than me, and the humiliation was
intense, standing naked in slave display position as they examined my body,
feeling and grabbing and prodding and giggling. One blond boy, Ricky, took
special delight in groping me roughly with his grubby little hands. A few
years earlier I used to babysit for Ricky when his father had to travel. He
was a bratty kid and I often had to strip him and force him to shower; a
few times I resorted to taking the blond boy over my knee for a
spanking. You better believe Ricky got his revenge when I was a
demonstration subject in his UMI class.

Of course I also got to observe Ricky's humiliation as a student in
Understanding Modern Indenture. I was there taking close up pictures and
measuring his tiny dick, as he blushed deep red. His embarrassment
increased when the professor announced they wouldn't need a razor for
Ricky. I also got to grease up the blond boy's asshole and work an enema
nozzle into him for the first time. Later in the school year I took special
delight in enclosing Ricky's cock in a cage.

Dr. Handley most often brought home guests after the UMI class, the slave
traders or local men who had helped him during the class. They had only
been able to toy with the students' bodies. But now they had a real
slaveboy who could be used in any way they chose (well, any way my master
permitted). Most of the time, my master was protective of my butthole and
had me suck off his guests. But some of them were special buddies of his
and got to fuck me.

One day when Dr. Handley returned home with his guest, I froze on the
spot. It was my father. My dad smiled shyly at me. I was dressed in just my
slavejock and I looked down at the floor in slave rest position, suddenly
nervous. Dr. Handley was showing off my body to my father just as if I were
a car. He placed my dad's hands on my bare ass cheeks. "You're not the
first man to feel these exquisite cheeks. Probably not even among the first
twenty."

My dad chuckled nervously. Soon he was naked lying on the bed and I was
between his legs sucking his cock. Dr. Handley was sitting in a comfortable
armchair watching us and masturbating himself as he rambled on, "I'm not
one to suggest anyone break the law, but you know you could have had Chuck
sucking your cock back when he was still a free boy in UMI class. You could
have even started before this past year. Believe me, there are some dads
and granddads who do that."

My dad grabbed my head and pulled it down hard into his crotch. I felt his
cock pulsating down my throat. I swallowed as fast as I could but still
some of his spunk spilled out of my mouth. Dr. Handley sounded very
disappointed, "Oh, that's too bad, I really wanted you to get a chance at
your former son's ass."

My father's cock was still stiff. He chuckled and said, "Well, ever since
you invited me... well, I haven't masturbated in a few days so I still have
another load to give." Apparently my dad had never fucked a guy's ass
before, and my owner was helping him get in position. When his cock sank
all the way inside me, my dad groaned, "Oh, wow, this feels like heaven."

He started fucking my ass slowly. Dr. Handley was telling me, "Remember
this, Chuck. Look how much pleasure you're giving to your own father. Most
likely you'll be a free boy before you're 22, Chuck. Remember, a boy's
father is always his master. When you're free there's nothing stopping you
from spreading your sweet ass a few times a week to give your old man
pleasure."

At that point my dad slammed down into me and I felt his cock pulsating
deep inside my anal cavity. He licked my neck and whispered, "I'd like that
a lot, son, for you to be available for your old dad's needs."

I just whimpered back, "Yes, sir, daddy." When he pulled his tool out of my
backside, he slapped my cheeks and laughed. He told Dr. Handley that he
hadn't felt this good in a very long time. My owner then invited my father
to return "every few months." He said it would be "good for the boy, having
his own father sodomizing his ass will reinforce that he's truly a slave."

Of course Dr. Handley always insisted on watching. The next time my dad
visited, my owner placed us on the living room couch, both in our boxer
shorts. He wanted my father to experience French kissing with his own
son. Soon enough, my dad pushed down on the top of my head and I found
myself sucking his cock as it stuck out of his boxers. Then I felt my own
boxers pulled down in back and my master was shoving his thick penis up my
ass. Dr. Handley told me later that it had given him a special thrill to be
fucking my ass in the presence of my own father.

Throughout this time, I was also finishing my high school diploma online. I
had never been a very good student and just figured I wasn't all that
smart. But Dr. Handley said it was just laziness on my part. Any grade I
received below an "A" would earn a paddling from my master. At the end of
the first semester, I was paddled so much I could barely sit down in front
of the computer for my classes. But then I became more diligent and the
punishments became less severe. (I didn't get nearly as many smacks for a B
as I did for a D.)

When I turned 19 I was officially a high school graduate and I figured I
was done with classes. But my master had other plans. I was registered for
online community college classes in slave handling. Most of the students
were free boys, with just three slaveboys in the class. The instructor
would often order the slaveboys to display themselves for the free boys to
observe. In these classes I got consistently high grades. I suppose with
all I had learned from Dr. Handley, and all I had experienced as a
slaveboy, I knew the techniques and principles taught in this college-level
curriculum.

Dr. Handley never put me in a regular job. But he made me available to
various men in the community who needed workers. I would be sent to a
certain farm to help rebuild a barn, sent to another to install pipes for a
busted plumbing system. At harvest time I was much in demand and worked
long days. Of course each time I would stay for a few days at some distant
farm, I would be used sexually by the man of the house. There were times a
father would bring his sons out to the barn where I was sleeping to
initiate the boys into using a slaveboy's mouth and ass.

Just around the time of my 19th birthday, Dr. Handley stopped shaving my
body. He said he wanted to see and feel me looking like a free boy. I was
surprised that I now had chest hair and more hair on my legs. I had first
been shaved for class right after my 16th birthday, and had remained
hairless since then. But my body had been developing through the years.

I worked out with weights two hours a day. When my master tried to dress me
in one of my old free boy shirts, it would no longer fit on my broader
chest and shoulders. I couldn't even get into my free boy boxer shorts
without ripping a seam. I thought I was through growing taller at age 16,
but three years later I was 6'2" instead of 5'11". I also had more defined
abs, and bigger biceps.

My final few years as Dr. Handley's slaveboy were very domestic. (Not the
word you were expecting, was it?) On many days I felt like the old man's
wife -- well his boi wife -- cleaning his house, preparing his dinner,
caressing and kissing on the couch, and finally sucking his cock as he
drifted off to sleep.

One month before the end of my indenture contract, Dr. Handley and I shared
a lovely day. He took me for a long walk through the park. We had a
romantic dinner that I had cooked. And we had the most passionate
lovemaking session we had shared in years. Then he drove me to my father's
house.

My master told me this was a special ritual. He was handing me over to my
father to serve out the last month of my indenture contract. But the
understanding was that my father would have to treat me as a slaveboy. That
was no problem as my dad was soon fucking my ass in every position
imaginable. Just as Dr. Handley had done, my father's treatment of me
became more romantic and tender as the days went by.

The day after my slave collar was removed and I was once again a free boy
(well free man at this point), I woke up in my father's bed and immediately
slid down to suck his cock. It just seemed the most natural thing to do.

But before I could even swallow my dad's load, there was a phone call from
Dr. Handley. He told me I had a meeting scheduled with McGhee, the slave
trader. I shuddered as I thought about that gross man. He'd visited a few
times during my indenture and relished humiliating me and filling me with
his filthy uncut cock. I reminded Dr. Handley that I was no longer
indentured. "Yes, of course I know that, Chuck. This is a meeting scheduled
between two free men. And, you should know in advance that I showed McGhee
the excellent work you did in your online slave training classes."

McGhee shook my hand but looked at me in his lascivious way. "Mmmmm, no
more buttfucking you, lad. Unless you want to be generous with your free
boy ass," he laughed as he gripped my hand tightly.

I pulled my hand away and laughed in response. "It's a free boy ass and I'm
not giving it away to anybody." (I didn't tell him the exceptions I would
make for Dr. Handley and for my father.)

The big man offered me a job as an apprentice slave trainer. The pay
wouldn't be much at first, but it was a stepping stone into a lucrative
career path. The previous day I was still a slaveboy. Now I was fully
dressed in regular clothes, walking around without a collar. I took the
job.

Interesting turn of events -- my first job the next day was to break in
Ricky, the cute blond boy I knew seven years earlier when I had been his
babysitter. "Of course," McGhee clarified, "If you fuck his ass, you will
be indentured for lowering the value of this merchandise. But the boy needs
as much training as he can get at sucking cocks."

I looked down at the blond youth, dressed in nothing but white briefs and
slave collar. My cock throbbed in my black uniform pants. I ordered, "Take
it out, boy, and pleasure it with your tongue. Tease it until I'm ready to
fuck your face, slaveboy."

He whimpered, "Y-yes, sir." His hands were trembling as he unzipped my
pants and reached in for my cock. I leaned down and whispered, "Hey, kid, I
went through five years as a slaveboy myself. It's not gonna be all bad."
He smiled up at me and stuck out his tongue eagerly licking the tip of my
dripping boner. I knew then I was going to enjoy my new career.

# # #

AND WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER BOYS?

Dr. Handley told me that, back on the evening he had selected me as his
slaveboy, he had been told the largest boy brothel in Monterey would buy up
my three classmates. But that brothel only purchased Connor. The following
weekend they had all their high rollers bid on Connor's virgin ass. The big
football jock was bent over and sodomized in front of a cheering crowd.

That brothel promises their clients fresh meat, so they sell off boys after
12 months. Apparently someone offered Connor's grandfather extra money to
allow for international sales. The old man retired wealthy after
that. Connor was sold to a boy brothel somewhere in the middle east. The
last anyone heard he had been purchased by a wealthy man on the Arabian
Peninsula. We knew we would never see Connor again.

Tino was purchased and shipped back to the east coast. There was a very
wealthy fraternity at a very prestigious university, and their members
decided that it would be cool to own one of the first 16-year-old
slaveboys. I've been told since then that a frat is the worst place for a
slaveboy, since college boys are cruel and thoughtless. I hoped for the
best for the hard-bodied wrestler.

Lars was bought by two elderly gentlemen who lived along the Humboldt Coast
of Eureka. They were doting and grandfatherly to the smooth blond, even
while demanding a lot of sex from his slender body. Apparently they became
very attached to him and vice versa. When his five year contract was near
an end, one of the old men died. Lars said he couldn't leave his other
master alone, so he extended his contract for another five years.

When his second master passed away a few years later, the old man left a
will freeing Lars and also making the blond boy heir to his fortune. So
Lars ended up living a life of luxury in Eureka. As years went by I would
run into Lars at slave auctions. I would occasionally recommend a boy I
thought he would like. He became a good customer, and I became a houseguest
at his beautiful home deep in the forest. We would laugh together about
Dr. Handley's class, our lives in Boise, and our experiences in Winnemucca.

Sometimes Lars would joke about detaining me in Eureka. Men like me, who
weren't officially gay, would be enslaved if they remained in the gay state
longer than 10 days. I'd usually laugh and say, "In your dreams, queer
boy." But, to tell the truth, I would jerk off thinking about that very
fantasy at night. Now that I was a big tough slave trainer in my late-20s,
what would it be like standing stripped on an auction bloc, being felt up
and bid on by gays? And why was it that I kept on masturbating and thinking
of that same fantasy?

THE END

Comments or compliments: Master Redbeard
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