Date: Sat, 17 Dec 2011 12:00:32 -0500
From: Jase Jason <jase-jason@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Defining Moment  -  Part One

A DEFINING MOMENT. (Tag Gay Male Authoritarian)

This is a work of fiction.

If you are underage, object to gay erotic fiction, or it's illegal where
you are, please leave now.

This work is copyright and remains the intellectual property of the author.
Any reproduction, either in part or in whole, without the express, written
permission of the author is strictly forbidden.


Part One.


My name is Michael Smith and I was born and grew up in the South East in
the small city of Sunninghill.  My father was a wealthy businessman and
from as far back as I can remember, we lived in a large house, probably
mansion would describe it better, on what was a large parcel of land on the
outskirts of the town.  The land could not in any way be categorized as
farm or rural or agricultural, as my mother had it maintained as a rather
oversized garden.  If you can imagine it, it was like a normal house and
garden in the suburbs only a lot bigger.  We definitely were not country
folk!  I have one brother Bradley, or Brad as he is known, and he is two
years older than me.  Naturally, to properly maintain a lifestyle such as
we enjoyed, we always had quite a few servants, mostly at my mother's
behest, and fortunately, my father was able to afford them.  Apart from
being a successful businessman, I learnt when I was older that he had
inherited from my grandfather, not only the property we lived in, but the
business he now owned and substantial other investments.  I am glad to say
we are "well off" as a family and Brad and I can look forward to a
comfortable lifestyle in the future.  Even as a teenager I realized what a
start in life it is to be born into a wealthy family and I was not shy to
take advantage of the situation in my everyday dealings with other kids and
with adults too.  One garners a natural respect, which rubs off from one's
parents, from people who are less fortunate.  I know that many rich people
appear to lead perfectly "normal" lives and make a point of not flaunting
their wealth but I don't really understand the rationale of that.  I know
my attitude isn't exactly praiseworthy but it doesn't really concern me too
much and, hey!, who said that life is fair anyway?

I was about ten years of age when the institution of slavery was
re-introduced.  Of course people in the South welcomed the move with open
arms and much was said about how it re-enforced the validity of the stand
that our forebears had taken against the Yankees. I mean it is a difficult
argument to refute.  My father, who at first was a bit uncomfortable about
it, discussed the whole question with his associates and others in his
social circle and, after consulting with the Church establishment, who felt
that slavery might well be condoned since it had existed in biblical times,
it was decided that in our community to embrace the system would be
perfectly acceptable.  Furthermore, the local electorate was firmly behind
the right-wing politicians in the nation's capital who were espousing the
adoption of slavery as a means of alleviating the economic woes that they
had brought about. My father wasn't slow to realize the benefits that might
accrue if we as a family were to dispense with the multitude of servants we
employed and to replace them with slave labor.  It would involve an upfront
capital investment but clearly that investment would be hugely beneficial
over time.  So it was that twelve pretty well-paid employees of the Smith
household were let go, often to join the ranks of the unemployed on
welfare, and replaced initially by seven slaves.

The transition did not take place overnight and my father and many of his
country club friends attended seminars and courses given by entrepreneurs
who saw an easy opening, on such matters as slave management, discipline,
control and punishment.  These God-fearing upright members of the community
returned home as avid slavers.  My parents had always considered servants
as "extended" members of the family and they were provided with comfortable
quarters attached to and above the garages at the side of the house.  Now,
in order to tie in with the new theories on what position on the social
scale slaves were to be slotted in (in effect completely off the social
scale), and how a harsh regimen of treatment was essential from the outset
to ensure success of the new dispensation, my father built behind the
garages and well out of sight new slave quarters constructed of unpainted
cinder blocks.  The building really was an affront to the eye and was in
effect a barred prison with the slaves housed in individual cells.  The
ablution facilities were primitive (cold shower heads and squat slave
latrines, as recommended by the new slave management authorities) and the
need for off-duty pursuits and facilities was ignored.  I looked the
building over when the builders left and innocently asked my father when
they would return to complete the job.  My father and his best friend, who
was present, laughed heartily at my naivety and I received a pat on the
head.

The seven slaves my father purchased consisted of a male in his late
twenties, Jack as my father renamed him, who had been enslaved for debt and
who became my father's personal slave as well as head slave, two other
young males who worked in the grounds, and four females, one of whom became
my mother's personal slave, and the other three general household workers.
Even I was embarrassed at the cheap and comical uniforms my parents
purchased for the slaves (not true! I really thought they were hilarious)
and I stared fascinated at the rations they were given to eat.  I was
eleven years of age at that time and at a difficult stage but it was
surprising how easily I accepted the new situation. It really is true that
one's attitude to life is moulded by one's upbringing. The idea of being
able to order older persons around at will fitted in perfectly with the air
of superiority I had started to develop; I see no wrong in that, it's in
the natural order of things, but I'm surprised that I had developed to that
stage at such an early age.  My brother Brad on the other hand always
seemed to be awkward in the presence of the slaves and avoided having any
dealings with them directly. He really couldn't stand that "slave smell" as
he referred to it. I must say he was always a bit weird! If my father
witnessed his 11 year old son ordering the slaves around or reprimanding
them (they must have been humiliated but dared not show it), he did nothing
to stop it.  I think that what I am trying to say here is that the whole
idea of a Master owning slaves and being in absolute control of their lives
and destinies was inculcated in me at an early age and within a few years
seemed totally normal to me.

@@@@@@@

Brad and I entered our teens and slowly started to develop friendships of
our own. An age difference of two years at that time is quite a gulf.  I
had always had the same little clique of friends; we were school buddies
and moved in the same social circle.  We were rich kids and were happy with
the status that conferred on us, with the wherewithal to have whatever we
wanted, and saw no need to look elsewhere for social contacts.  I had two
especially close buddies named Chuck Winters and Lawrence Stevens.  I was
the oldest and Lawrence was the youngest.  Brad on the other hand became
friendly with a kid his own age who he had met at school named Adam Thomas.
Although Adam attended our school, which catered mainly to the kids of
well-to-do parents, he came from a lower middle-class family and I was a
bit embarrassed that Brad should mix with a boy not of the same social
status as us. The first time Brad invited him to spend the weekend at our
house, he really looked out of place.  Even the clothes he wore appeared
shabby.  Like rich kids do, I made a couple of barbed remarks at his
expense and I felt humiliated when Brad put me down in front of Chuck and
Lawrence.  I had never liked Adam and that episode made me resent him and
his presence even more. I was fourteen years of age and likes and dislikes,
even hatreds, are easily formed.

Brad had recently turned sixteen and, in celebration of that milestone (the
age of adulthood as my father called it), he offered to acquire a personal
slave for Brad.  As I think I have mentioned, Brad had absolutely no
patience with slaves and found their attentions to be tiresome.  He
therefore prevailed upon our father to purchase for him an expensive sports
car instead.  I must confess I immediately fell in love with his red
three-series BMW cabriolet with black trim!  It was class personified.  I
wondered to myself however whether in two years time, if given the same
opportunity, I would be able to turn down the chance of having my own
slave.  The thought of being attended to hand and foot by a personal slave
was not something I would easily turn down.  And besides I was pretty sure
I could talk my father into buying me a car anyway.

@@@@@@@

The next two years were quite eventful.  Chuck, Lawrence and I went through
the latter stages of puberty and had our first sexual experiences.  None of
the three of us was exceptionally "cute" (I probably was the best-looking
even if I say so myself) but we had the advantage of coming from rich
families and girls, being the deep-down gold-diggers that they are, very
rarely turned away our attentions.  Fifteen year old girls are not always
prepared to put out and so we concentrated on chicks a year or two older
than ourselves.  Considering our ages, we were surprisingly successful in
getting laid pretty regularly.  Lawrence was the youngest and as scrawny as
shit, but he managed to charm an eighteen year old broad, a waitress, and
she took his cherry.  None of us was able at that stage to "entertain" at
home and thus we made a connection at a local motel (I usually slipped the
guy at the desk a $20 bill) and partied there.  Chuck's older brother
bought beer and scored pot and pills for us and we were never short of
female company.  I also managed to hire some porn from a sleazebag at a
local adult video store and the scene was set to indulge ourselves.

Brad and Adam meanwhile had started dating (not each other, hehe) and Brad
had come out of his shell (to a degree). On occasion my parents would be
absent over a weekend and Brad would throw a party.  There would normally
be about ten couples including Brad and Adam, and although Brad clearly
wasn't keen on the idea, I made sure that Chuck, Lawrence and I were
invited.  On occasion we would be successful in roping in a couple of
chicks and my bedroom became a hive of activity. Quite a lot of beer was
consumed at these parties, and even some drugtaking took place, but all in
all level-headed Brad kept a tight rein on things.

At a certain moment there was a confluence of events.  Brad had just turned
eighteen, Adam was three months short of his eighteenth birthday, and I was
due to turn sixteen in two month's time. These seem like incidental facts
but they were to play a huge role in how matters unfolded.  On a certain
Saturday night, with our parents out of town, Brad threw a party and when
the event wound down he and Adam took their dates home in Adam's car (if
you could call it that).  After they had dropped the girls off, they were
returning to our house and it started to rain.  Apparently the car skidded
and Adam was unable to avoid colliding with a car coming in the opposite
direction.  So as not to involve Brad who after all was an innocent
passenger, Adam told Brad to leave the scene which he did.  The upshot of
it all was that the driver of the other car, who was a young Bible-puncher
returning from a Church function, was slightly hurt.  The police, however,
arrested Adam and he was tested for alcohol consumption and failed the
test.  In addition the police found some marijuana in Adam's car.  They
threw the book at him and he was released on bail into his parents' custody
until the trial took place.

My father forbade Brad to speak or meet with Adam but they did attend the
trial.  Apparently Adam pleaded guilty to the charges but his lawyer put up
a good defense in mitigation, saying that Adam had never been in trouble
before, came from a good Christian home, attended a good school, had a
promising future and was likely to become a good law-abiding citizen. He
asked for a suspended sentence with community service.  There is no doubt
that had it been Brad or me on trial, a few words in a few sympathetic ears
would have resulted in such a sentence being passed down but unfortunately
for Adam his family had no such influence.  Cest la vie!  The judge passed
down a sentence of lifetime servitude and, according to Brad, Adam was
stripped bare-ass naked in the court, collared and immediately handed over
to the slave control people.

@@@@@@@

The sentence stunned the community and Brad particularly seemed very down
at the turn of events.  I tried to console him and told him that Adam had
really had it coming and that the sentence should be seen in that light.
Personally I felt that Brad should have known that a friendship with a boy
of no real social standing would have a sticky end.

However, other thoughts in relation to what had happened were really
consuming my mind.  I had read enough about how newly-enslaved offenders
were dealt with to know that Adam would shortly come up for auction at
Slaves R Us, a local slave dealership.  Fortuitously my sixteenth birthday
was coming up in two weeks and I saw a perfect opportunity to avenge myself
on Adam for slights and humiliations I had suffered at Brad's hands in his
defense.  I had already decided that I wanted a slave of my own on my
sixteenth birthday and the thought that that slave could now be Adam was
intoxicating in the extreme.  I felt a certain rush of power, something I
had never experienced before, and to my surprise found myself totally
erect.  In the coming days I continually became erect whenever I
entertained in my mind the possibility that Adam might become my personal
slave and I carefully planned the strategy I would adopt with my father.


To be continued........