Date: Sun, 28 Dec 2008 19:24:43 -0500
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 1

BRED SLAVE

The following is a work of fiction.  All characters are over 18 years of
age.  There are depictions of sexual acts and homoerotic themes.  Please do
not read any further if you are not legally eligible or would be offended by
the material.

CHAPTER 1 - BIRTHDAY SURPRISE

"Dude, you are so fucking lucky," my best friend Sean exclaimed under his
breath with a playful punch to my arm as we made our way across the bustling
quad of the local University.  It was the last day of finals before winter
break and the student body was already celebrating.

"Whatever, shut up." I retorted, as I was nearly plowed over by some
half-drunk frat boy that dove to catch a frisbee sailing past Sean's head.
"Fuck!  Watch it!" I growled, over my shoulder shooting the guy a look.

"God, Drew, lighten up," Sean said, half laughing.  "Did you wake up on the
wrong side of the bed today, or what?  Seriously, dude, not only did we just
finish finals, not only is it the first day of break, not *only* is the
hottest girl in town waiting for you in the parking lot...but it's your
fucking birthday!  18, man, and it's about fucking time!"

I nodded with a shrug.  It was all true, but at the moment, I could
care less.  Sure, I was finally 18, first semester of college now under my
belt, but I had little to celebrate.  "Yeah, whatever.  You're flying home
tonight, along with everyone else and where am I headed?  Right, no where.
Same crappy town, same crappy house...well same crappy guest house."  I
kicked a soccer ball in frustration as it rolled by my foot, more like
punted it really.

"Shit, man.  Thanks," another jockish guy exclaimed sarcastically as he ran
after the ball.

Sean chuckled. "Yeah, man, the timing does suck.  But, we'll celebrate
hard next semester, don't worry.  And, there's always spring break.
Cancun..."

"Yeah, right." I cut him off.  Money was always an issue for me and my
family.  We always had what we needed, but there never seemed to be any
extra.  I even tried to get a job when I turned 16 to earn my own spending
money, but my parents freaked out.  They wanted me to focus on my studies
and athletics and nothing else.  Worst of all, I wanted nothing more than to
go to college out of state, some big university as far from home as I could
get, but there was no money and no scholarships.  Not that it mattered.  I
only received one acceptance letter in the mail from none other than the
local university where I could easily commute back and forth from home.  "I
can barely get money for textbooks out of parents.  No way they're going to
fund that kind of trip."

"Maybe they'll surprise you," Sean offered optimistically.  "It is
your birthday after all."

"A surprise would be nice..." I trailed as we finished walking in near
silence across the quad to the parking lot where Ali would be waiting.  I
had met Ali at freshman orientation over the summer.  She was a year older
and the tour guide assigned to my group.  We hit it off almost right away.
Since I was a townie, we connected over stories and jokes about the local
scene...her perspective as the innocent co-ed from out of town, and mine as
the local high school jock with the fake ID that got me and my friends in
most of the college bars.  It didn't hurt that despite having a late
birthday, I looked older for my age and fortunate to have inherited some
great genes.  My body was in great shape from all of my years I devoted to
soccer and lacrosse, and my square jaw and stylishly-kempt dark blond hair
completed my package as the all-American jock next door.

By the end of the tour, Ali and I were practically engaged.  The other
students disappeared one by one, and we spent the entire day and night
together, eventually crashing in her room.  She lived just off campus in a
two bedroom apartment with her friend Kara, a real bitch if ever there was
one.  Regardless, our relationship progressed quickly.  Most of my friends
left for their various colleges and I barely noticed.  I was so focused on
Ali, and by the start of the semester, we were one serious couple.

"Aaand this is my cue to leave," Sean noted, nodding towards the parking
lot.

We exchanged a complicated handshake, and I looked toward the lot to see Ali
leaning against her sporty red Audi.  Well, it was Kara's car actually, but
she always let Ali use it.  She was impeccably dressed, as always, in skin
tight jeans and a low cut tank top with a short jacket to cover her arms and
shoulders.  Her dark brunette hair cascaded over shoulders.  With her arms
were crossed, and she flashed a smoldering smile at me.  My heart raced a
bit.  Even months later, I still got excited every time I saw her.

"Later, dude.  Have a great trip and blah blah..." my voice trailed off
again as I left Sean, smiling as I approached Ali.  We embraced and shared a
long passionate kiss.

"Happy birthday, stud," she whispered in my ear sending tingles down my
spine.  "Get in."  I climbed in the passenger seat as she buckled into the
driver's side, and we took off.  "God, feels good to be getting out of here,
at least for a while, right?"  She asked rhetorically, as she reached across
me and opened the glove compartment.  She fumbled inside, keeping her eyes
on the road, and pulled out a small box.  Closing the compartment, she
dropped the box on my lap.  It was black and velvet, almost like a jewelry
box, with a small white bow on top.

"What's this?" I asked, smiling over at her.

"Open it," she suggested, keeping her eyes focused intently ahead.

I grinned down at the box, popping it open.  Half-expecting to find a watch
or maybe some concert tickets, I was surprised to find a key with a white
tag tied to it.  Picking it up, I looked at the word written on the tag:
"Tonight."  My heart skipped a beat, and I looked over at her.  "What...I
mean, is this?... I mean, wait, is this your...?"

She was smiling, almost with a smirk, out the windshield.  "Yes, it's the
key to my place.  Kara said it was cool.  I know you have to spend time with
your family, but..."

"I'll be over later," I interrupted anxiously.  Clearing my throat, trying
not to sound so desperate, I added, "I mean, if you want me to?"

"Sure," she said, but her tone was surprisingly distant.

I was kind of taken aback.  She sounded suddenly unenthusiastic for someone
who was apparently giving me sex for my birthday.  Since we started dated,
we had done everything but.  Ali claimed that she had been hurt before by
her high school boyfriend, pregnancy scare and everything, and didn't want
to rush into anything.  I respected that, satisfied by her mind-blowing blow
jobs.  She also taught me a thing or two along the way.  I'm not ashamed to
admit that she'd taught me to become one expert cunt licker.

We drove the rest of the way to my home in awkward silence.  The car turned
into the gated community of mansions where I lived and winded up the long
hill to the edge of my driveway.  She sighed as she put the car into park
and looked over at me.  "Drew, you know I do love you?"

Again, I was startled at the statement that seemed mixed with uncertainty.
"Yeah...I love you too."  I responded flatly.  We exchanged a quick kiss.
"See you later."

"Later," she agreed.  I closed the door and she sped off.  I wanted to say I
thought her voice might have cracked, but I might've been hearing things.

I turned to the driveway, looking ahead at the prominent brick mansion owned
by Mr. Grey.  I had known Mr. Grey and his son, Ryan, since the day I was
born and they were like family to me and my parents...only my parents
happened to work for the Greys.  As I understand the story, Mr. Grey and my
father were best friends in college, the same local university where Ryan
and I now attend.  Only my father wasn't a townie, like me.  After
graduation, my father moved back north where he met my mother.  They married
and began a business venture that failed miserably and left them in
financial ruin right around the time that I was born.  When he turned to Mr.
Grey for help, not only did Mr. Grey use his family's considerable wealth to
alleviate the debts, but he invited my parents to move into the guest house
on his estate and work for him.  His wife had passed the year after Ryan was
born, and he needed all of the help he could get.

Now, my father is something of a personal manager for Mr. Grey, his right
hand.  My mother manages the household and all of the hired help to keep up
the grounds.  To me, Mr. Grey has never been anything but a kind uncle of
sorts.  He has always treated me as well, if not sometimes better, than his
own son.  Growing up on Mr. Grey's property had its ups and downs over the
years, but it wasn't bad, and it was all I knew.

Ryan and I, only a year apart, grew up like brothers.  We played, fought,
competed.  Growing up, it was games of chance and sports.  In high school,
girls.  We were both total jocks and it was just in our nature.  There was a
rocky period during junior high and freshman year of high school when he
made sure that everyone in town knew that my family was "the help," but I
quickly earned my place and respect of my peers when I came into puberty.
My looks developed, along with my body, and I rose ranks to captain of both
of my high school teams.  At home was a different story.  Although, we were
best friends and brothers at the end of the day, I couldn't help but feel
the barrier between us every night as I slept in his family's guest house.
Oh well.  Only a few more years to go until graduation, and I would finally
be free to do whatever I wanted, as far away from here as I could get.

I suddenly felt a little cold.  It had been an unusually warm few weeks, but
the temperature was finally starting to catch up with the
calendar.  Typically, I was stubborn and neglected a jacket in favor of my
trusty university hooded sweatshirt and t-shirt underneath.  I shivered a
little as I made my way down the long driveway, past the main house and down
the narrow path to the courtyard where the front door to our guest house
was.  Pulling my keys from my jeans, I fumbled with the lock...only it
wouldn't work.

Calmly, I double-checked  my key ring and tried again to no luck.  Strange.
I rang the doorbell and a few times, and pounded my fist on the door hoping
my parents were nearby.  After a few minutes of pounding and ringing, I gave
up and turned to make my way across the back courtyard to a back entrance of
the main house.  Using another of my keys, I was relieved to gain entry and
made my way inside through the laundry room, pushing through another door
into the large kitchen.

"Hello?  Anyone home?"  I called out, my voice echoing through the tall
ceilings.  As I had practically grown up in that house, I was more than
comfortable making myself at home.  Hearing no response, I swung by
the fridge to grab a bottle of water.  Twisting the cap, I continued to
wander out of the kitchen towards the casual sitting room where everyone
tended to hang out.  "Mom? Dad? Mr. Grey?"

"In here," Mr. Grey called from the room, his voice echoing down the hall.

I took a swig of water from the bottle as I walked down the hallway and
turned into the room, prepared to launch into my problem with the door.
Instead, my eyes went wide, my heart skipped a beat and I nearly choked on
the gulp of water.  The open bottle of water dropped from my hand, spilling
onto the plush shag carpeting forming a puddle.  I coughed and sputtered, as
I forced the water down the correct pipe.

"It's alright, Drew," Mr. Grey continued calmly.  "Just take a breath."  Mr.
Grey was seated comfortably on his favorite chair, dressed as usual in sharp
black slacks and a black polo shirt tucked neatly into his pants.  He had
just turned 40 that year, but looked 35.  He was always well-groomed,
average height, with a slim, athletic build, dark hair and light eyes.

Alright?!  I couldn't believe the sight before me.  "What...what the
hell..." I stammered, looking around the room, having composed myself
slightly, though I felt weak in the knees.

My parents were just to the left of Mr. Grey, or at least I thought they
were my parents.  I didn't know what to think.  They were kneeling side by
side, facing me, both of them completely naked.  I instantly diverted my
eyes, and then couldn't help but turn back to finish assessing the
situation.

One thing I had never been too ashamed to admit is that my parents were both
remarkably attractive people.  They had me young at 20, the same age that
Mr. Grey had Ryan.  At 38, they could probably both pass for early 30s.  I
had always been impressed that my father had managed to remain so chiseled
and muscular throughout the years, dedicating at least an hour everyday in
Mr. Grey's fitness room.  We often worked out together.  My mother was just
as dedicated to her fitness, often known as a total "MILF" amongst my circle
of high school jocks.

Now, both of those physiques, not to mention everything I'd never wanted to
see, were displayed before me.  They knelt perfectly still with their knees
spread somewhat wide, their hands behind their backs and elbows squared.
And, as if it could get any weirder, they were both gagged with some sort of
leather contraption that strapped around their heads.  Their eyes were
blindfolded with a strip of dark fabric also tied behind their heads, and
they both had thick metal collars locked around their necks.

I stumbled, catching myself on the door frame.  "Seriously, dude, what the
fuck is this?" I asked, an ultra serious tone to my voice.  "I..I'm going to
call the cops."

"Andrew," Mr. Grey continued in an even tone. "Have a seat and I'll explain
everything.  If you still want to call the cops when I'm finished, be my
guest."  He nodded to the open arm chair across from him.

I didn't want to sit down.  I wanted to run for help.  Taking a few nervous
steps backwards, my knees still wobbling a little, I nearly backed into Ryan
who had come up behind me, now blocking the doorway.  I turned to look over
my shoulder at him.  He stood tall with his muscular arms crossed over his
chest, dressed somewhat out of character in a fitted black t-shirt tucked
into dark jeans and a leather belt.

"It's okay, man.  Just have a seat," Ryan reiterated, giving me a firm pat
on the back, and taking my arm to help guide me to the chair.  I couldn't
help but notice a slight shove as I fell seated into the arm chair, glancing
again to my parents and then turning away to look at Mr. Grey, my eyes
demanding an explanation.

"There, now stay with me and try not to interrupt," Mr. Grey continued, the
request sounding more like a command.  "I obviously have a lot to explain
and you will just make things difficult if you don't listen.  Understood?"

I glanced up to Ryan.  He crossed his arms again, taking a post between me
and the door, watching his father.  I still felt sick to my stomach, but
needed to know what was going on.  I nodded meekly.

"Good.  Let me begin by assuring you that your parents are okay. They are
safe, they are comfortable, and they are happy," he began as I raised my
eyebrows in alarm at the last statement.  "Yes, they are quite happy.  In
fact, I'd wager that they haven't felt this happy in 18 years."

He looked to me, emphasising the time frame.  I had almost forgotten it was
my birthday in all of the commotion.

"You see, the male and female to my left that you've know as your parents
for the past 18 years have, in fact, known me longer, not as their friend,
but as their Master.  Well, we were friends at one time, at the start of
college.  But, it wasn't long before fate would change that.  I met your
father when he was a fraternity pledge.  I was assigned as his big brother,
but it became increasingly evident to me during hazing that he not
only enjoyed his various trials and humiliations, but he got off on them as
much as I did orchestrating them.  We took our sessions private long after
pledging had ended and discovered our true natures.  I was a Master by
nature, and he was destined to be a slave."

"Slave?!" I exclaimed at the word, nearly leaping out of the chair.  Ryan
caught me, a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, slave."  Mr. Grey repeated matter of factly. "Now, shall
we continue?"  His tone was sharper, and I sat back down.  "Good.  Now, our
relationship was strictly playful throughout college.  We'd get together
weekly, sometimes more, for a session or two, but we maintained our vanilla
lives.  Mind you, none of our relationship was sexual at the time.  We
simply thrived on the power exchange.  In fact, it wasn't long after meeting
your father that I met your mother.  We dated for less than a year before
she began to hint at her interest in bringing kink into the bedroom.  Soon
enough, she was devoted to me in every sense of the word.  I took the skills
I developed through working with your father into the bedroom, and it wasn't
long before I had two submissive toys to play with."  He smirked slightly,
as if recalling a fond memory as he glanced at them kneeling beside him.

I followed his eyes, grateful at this point that they were blindfolded and
gagged.  I didn't want them to see my face and I certainly didn't want to
see theirs at the moment, nor did I want to hear their explanations.

"Now, this is where the story really gets interesting.  There is the version
of history that you know, and then there is the truth.  In your
version, your parents married shortly after college, started a failed
business, gave birth to you and moved in with me when I offered to help.
The truth, however, is that there was no failed business, and no bail-out.
In fact, there was never even a marriage," he stated, looking into my eyes
at the last statement.

I shook my head in disbelief, feeling dizzy all over again as each detail
unraveled, "What?!  What do you mean?"

"I'll explain," he continued.  "After graduation, I met Ryan's mother at a
discreet bar for people like us in the lifestyle.  She was a beautiful young
woman who I originally believed was a submissive like your mother.  However,
she was strong willed and stubborn.  We began to date, instead, as equals
and fell in love or what we thought was love.  I started to work at my
family's business, built this house with the help of my father, and then we
married at 19 and had Ryan a year later.  Sadly, after Ryan's birth, she
suffered badly from post-partem depression.  Six months later, she left us
to pursue a career as a professional dominatrix, which is not something I
could support.  Fortunately, she gave me full custody of Ryan and we haven't
seen her since."

I glanced again to Ryan, who nodded solemnly, but I could detect a bit of
sadness is his eyes at the story.  Though, clearly, it was not the first
time he'd heard it.

"Back to your parents, I hadn't seen them much their senior year of college,
and even less after they graduated, as I was so involved in starting a
family.  They had gotten to know each other quite well after all of our
sessions together, and began their own vanilla relationship of sorts, going
so far as to sharing an apartment together after college.  From what I
understand, they agreed to put their submissive natures behind them and try
a normal life.  Little did they know, but the sneaky little sluts were each
sneaking out behind each other's backs to see me and other Dominants in the
area for continued slave training."

I swallowed as I listened intently to each word.  My throat felt dry.  It
was painful to digest, but I was riveted.

"After a year of the ruse, just before Ryan was born, I was forced to come
clean with Ryan's mother that my own desire to train and own slaves had not
gone away, in fact, it had gotten stronger.  We spent many long nights
discussing the possibility of bringing slaves into our lives and how much
pleasure it would bring both of us, not to mention how much help we would
have when the baby arrived.  It wasn't long before she agreed, and we
invited your parents out to the house.  What began as a social visit in this
very room, ended with your parents gratefully accepting collars much like
those.  We presented the idea of trial, voluntary slavery for a year.  I
would take over the rent of their apartment, they would quit their
low-income jobs and dedicate themselves fully to their slavery.  We even
drafted a contract, which they willingly signed.  They would spend the first
month sequestered here in intensive training, and then slowly reintegrate
into society with their new identities.  Our goal was to have them fully
trained before the baby arrived, and it worked," Mr. Grey paused to smile
reassuringly at Ryan.

It was still so difficult for me to conceive.  How could they want that?
This? Him? Any of it?

"However, in the turmoil following Ryan's birth and my wife's post-partem, I
had no choice but to send the slaves away for a while so I could deal in
peace.  When my wife left us, and things were settled, I brought the slaves
back to let them know I still wanted them if they still wanted to be here.
Only, the slaves had a big surprise with them...they were expecting you.
They were nervous and scared and confused, not wanting to give up what they
had worked so hard for.  They professed their greatest fear of living a
boring vanilla life unfulfilled.  At first, I sent them away in disgust,
believing they had made their choice, willingly or not.  A few days later, I
reconsidered, thinking more rationally, and I brought them back to talk," he
paused to take a sip of water.

"This is just...nuts," I nearly whispered.

"It may sound nuts to you," he explained, "but I assure you to a very sane
and rational portion of the population out there, it's all very
understandable.  Now, when your parents returned, I presented them with a
take it or leave it offer.  They could commit then and there to a lifetime
contract of  voluntary slavery, and we would make it work, or they could
walk out the door and never come back.  Obviously, here we are," he smiled
down at his slaves.  "The provision I allowed, is that the three of us would
agree on how to handle the children.  While both you and Ryan were infants
and toddlers, your parents had free reign to assist in your upbringing.  All
slave training, equipment and protocol was to remain safely locked behind
closed doors.  The backroom in my basement is not a wine cellar, but in
fact, an elaborate dungeon."

I shook my head in mild disbelief, thinking back to all of the times
as little kids Ryan and I had plotted and tried to break into the solid
metal door, with no success.  I glanced over at my father who was shifting
his weight on his knees.  I realized suddenly that they had been kneeling
still for quite a while and that it couldn't be comfortable.

"When you were two, it was clear that we needed to establish a more stable
family situation for you to grow up as normally as possible.  We concocted
our story, and your parents moved into the guest house with you.  They were
to present themselves as a stable married couple raising the bright young
boy that you are, and they did so quite well.  However, whenever you boys
were at school or sports practice, the slaves were in strict service to me.
There were, of course, other rules behind the scenes governing your
upbringing, as well as my slaves' behavior.  As you well know, you were
raised with impeccable manners.  Your chore list was extensive and checked
rigidly and you didn't earn money, you earned TV time.  Snacks and meals
were always healthy.  Daily exercise was a requirement.  The only times you
vacationed were with my family.  You were forbidden to bring dates to the
house.  And, the list goes on..."

I nodded vaguely as my mind wandered over memories of my relatively strict
upbringing.

"Most importantly, I required that you were taught respect.  Your parents
had free reign to punish you at will at any signs of mouthing off,
neglecting a chore, breaking a curfew.  I'm sure you remember those
punishments quite well," he chuckled.  "It's amusing really.  You grew up in
one of the most nontraditional of families and never even had an inkling.
And, you're all the better for it.  Really, Drew, you're quite lucky.  Here
you are at the age of 18, and you're twice the man that some men twice your
age are. Strong, handsome, smart, well-rounded, disciplined.  Quite the
catch," he paused, lingering on the word as he looked me up and down.

I shifted uncomfortably in the chair.  Suddenly, I felt hot, almost
claustrophobic like the walls and tall ceilings were caving in on me.
I could feel small beads of sweat forming at my temples.

Mr. Grey shook his head almost in mild amusement, "18 years later, wow.  I
never thought we'd see the day, yet here we are," he sighed almost in
relief.  "And, this I'm sorry to say, is where the story ends and all of our
new lives begin.  Back to that contract I mentioned, and the clause
concerning you.  It was agreed that you would be sheltered completely from
the truth until the day you turned 18.  Your parents had permission to lie,
should any slip-ups occur, but we were careful to work around your
schedule.  But now, the truth is out, and it's time for all of us to move
forward."

A stifled snicker escaped Ryan's lips, and his father shot him a look.

"Enough, son," Mr. Grey snapped suddenly.  Ryan looked like he had been
slapped.  "Take the slaves to their new home, or really their old home, in
the dungeon.  I'll see to them later.  I'd like to chat privately with
Andrew for a few."

"Yes, father," Ryan grumbled.  I watched numbly in shock as Ryan plodded
over to my parents.  He bent over and took hold of two long black leashes
that had apparently been clipped to the back of their collars.  "Up,
slaves," he commanded firmly.

My mouth was agape as they both pushed up from their knees to a standing
position, struggling a bit as they were off balance after kneeling for so
long, and their hands apparently cuffed behind them.  They remained
standing, as proudly as they had knelt, while Ryan passed their leashes over
their heads and took them in front.

"Walk," he commanded with a slight tug on the leashes.  There was the slight
rattling of chains and hard breathing as the slaves shuffled slowly forward
on the floor, blindfolded as they were, they could only trust that their
leashes were pulling them forward in a safe direction.  I watched them go in
utter amazement.

"Watch them go," Mr. Grey suddenly interrupted as the 3 of them left the
room and disappeared down the long hallway.  "You may not see them for a
while.  You see, we agreed that when you came of age, you would be in
college, educated, socially-adjusted, perfectly capable of caring for
yourself.  They would be free to return to their lives as full time slaves,"
he chuckled at the irony in the statement, "And you would be given a choice,
the most important choice you will ever make."

I swallowed, my mouth and throat suddenly feeling dry.  I shifted
uncomfortably in the chair, not sure what to expect next.  "What?" I croaked
nearly hoarsely.

Mr. Grey smiled, nearly smirking, "Well, my boy, things have changed, or
really, they've changed back.  Your parents are no longer my house guests,
and I'm sorry to say that your free ride is also over.  Now, everything that
your parents have earned and owned the past 18 years belongs to me.  If I
recall correctly, you have a few hundred bucks in your bank account from
your campus job, maybe that's enough to get you started?  Of course, you'll
need to establish residency somewhere, apply for financial aid, figure out
how you're going to cover your tuition, books, room and board.  Or, maybe
you'll just decide to drop out, take some low paying job till you get on
your feet.  I'm sure you'll survive..."

My head was spinning as he spoke.  He couldn't be serious.  Not only did I
have to process this fucked up situation with my parents, but now I was
being completely cut off.  "But," I stammered, feeling more nervous sweat on
my lower back, "I mean, you can't...How? Why?!"  I exclaimed.

"Of course, there is one other option," he paused for effect.  "Listen
carefully as I don't want to be interrupted.  You are the product of two
slaves.  If this was another time and place, you would already be enslaved
by virtue of your birth.  Obviously, your parents' enslavement was
voluntary, and you too must be given the choice whether or not to fulfill
your birthright."

"What?" I exclaimed, nearly leaping out of the chair.

His eyes flashed angrily, and he stood in preparation to meet me.  He
pointed at the seat, "Sit. Down." he commanded firmly.  "You will hear me
out, or you will be thrown out on your ungrateful ass and never set foot
back on this property again, do you understand?"

Taking several short breaths, feeling very dizzy again, I nodded and sat
back down.  His burst of anger took me by surprise.

"Enough with the sugar-coating.  Like it or not, you are a bred slave.
Legally, you are free to go, but I suspect that if you search deep inside,
you will find that you too have the heart of a slave.  You may not
understand how or why, but it is strong in your parents, and therefore, it
is likely equally strong, if not stronger, in you.  I have watched you grow
up, and I have seen it.  The way you conduct yourself, the way you bow to
peer pressure, the way you are chivalrous to a fault with your girlfriend,
the way you always step aside to let others enter a door before you.  Little
things that say a lot.  And, these are not signs of weakness, but signs of
strength.  It takes strength to be a slave, pride in yourself and pride in
your work," he paused to take a breath, sitting back down himself.

I swallowed hard again in disbelief.  He couldn't honestly be suggesting
what I think he was suggesting.

"Your choice is this.  Walk out on this life, and never look back.  You will
not see your parents again as long as they remain in my service.  Or stay.
Sign this," he reached behind him and tossed a thick packet of paper at my
feet which hit the ground with a light thud.  "It is a nearly identical
contract to which both of your parents signed over 18 years ago with a few
amendments.  Take it. Read it. Understand it.  But, make no mistake.  Should
you sign, you will be committing yourself to immediate enslavement.  You
will spend the remainder of your winter break in intensive training, but you
will then be reintegrated into society.  Finish your schooling, fully paid,
as I want my slaves to be fully educated.  And, you will never have to worry
about a thing again.  Making a decision, caring for yourself, working,
paying bills.  None of it."

I looked down at the contract, wanting to kick it back at him.  I'm not sure
why, but instead, I bent down and picked it up.  I rolled it up and stuffed
it in the pocked of my sweatshirt.

Mr. Grey smiled, "Smart boy.  I'm not naive, Andrew.  You have a lot to
think about, and no doubt, you will be making many huge sacrifices to pursue
this avenue, but I have a feeling that you will come to have no regrets.  I
am giving you 24 hours," he glanced at the clock.  "If you're not here with
a signed contract when the clock strikes 4:00pm tomorrow, do not ever come
back."

He stood and motioned for me to do the same.  Shakily I pushed myself up to
my feet.  I was too overwhelmed and numb to respond.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to me,
which I somehow caught, my reflexes in check.  "Now, I'm sure your first
instinct will be to tell me to fuck off.  You're going to run right to that
little slut of a girlfriend and cry with some made-up story about your
parents cutting you off.  Go right ahead.  Maybe she will take you in and
you can move on, easy as that," he smirked, nodding to the keys.  "Take
Ryan's jeep.  Consider it a parting gift if you don't come back.  I'll just
buy him another and have my slaves work off your debt.  Now scram."  He
ordered coldly.

I stumbled as I was backing away, nearly tripping over the chair.  And then
I turned, and I ran as fast as I could out the back door and to the driveway
where Ryan's jeep was parked.  I jumped in the driver's seat, started the
ignition, and floored the gas pedal peeling out of the driveway.  I was in
full panic mode.

It wasn't until I was halfway to Ali's place that I could even really see
straight.  The entire thing was so unbelievable, I couldn't even make it up
if I tried.  Mr. Grey was dead serious about cutting me off.  I could sense
it in his voice.  And, worse yet, the idea of me throwing my life away to
become his slave was the most ludicrous thing I had ever heard.

Squealing wheels into Ali's apartment parking lot, I barely had the car in
park before I was jogging up the steps to her apartment door.  I fumbled in
my pocket for the key that Ali had given me, and couldn't get it in the lock
my hands were shaking so much.  I started to bang on the door.

Within moments, the door swung open and Ali's roommate Kara was there
smirking at me, almost knowingly. "Drew.  We've been expecting you," she
said flatly.

***

CHAPTER 2 - REVELATION

Expecting me?  She stepped aside and I pushed past her.  "Where's Ali?" I
demanded, not being in the mood for Kara's bitchy attitude.

I heard the door slam behind me.  "She's a little tied up at the moment,"
Kara responded.  What happened next surprised me, as she took hold of my
arm, quite firmly, and began to walk me briskly into the living room.  "Have
a seat, birthday boy."

I nearly fell into the chair as she shoved me down.  "What the fuck?" I
demanded.

She stood over me, glowering down at me.  "Thank God this charade is finally
over," she began shaking her head slightly.  "Keep your whiny pie hole shut
so I can make this quick.  Ali isn't your girlfriend, at least not anymore.
She's my slave."

My heart skipped a beat for the second time that day, or maybe the third,
I'd lost count.  I'm sure the look on my face said it all.

"Yes, slave.  She has been my slave for well over a year. Ryan and I
actually found her online.  She has served us both, but found she prefers a
Mistress over a Master.  Before summer started, Ryan brought me out to his
house to meet with his dad.  They asked if I would lend Ali to a pet project
of theirs.  I agreed as a favor to Ryan to let Ali seduce you into thinking
you were her boyfriend.  Something about helping to get you ready.  I didn't
understand at first, but they explained everything to me, all the sordid
little details, and the arrangement was just too delicious to ignore," she
paused to take a breath, obviously enjoying the look on my face.

I shook my head, telling myself that it was all impossible.  "But..."

"But, what?  It's the truth.  Deal with it.  I know all about you.  Why
you're here, what choice you have to make, your parents.  Really, you're
something of a legend," she shook her head in mild amazement.  "A real live
bred slave... that is of course if you man up and sign the contract.  Yeah,
I know about that too."  Suddenly, she leaned forward and clawed her fingers
around the neck of my sweatshirt, pulling me up to my feet with surprising
force.  "Come with me," she commanded.

"What the..." I scrambled to my feet and followed her down the hallway
towards Ali's bedroom.

"I figured you might have a little difficulty believing me, so here," she
took hold of the door handle and flung open the door.  I blinked in the dim
light, barely recognizing Ali's bedroom.  It was nearly bare.

The posters on the walls were gone.  The carpet was gone.  The dresser
gone.  The bed had been nearly stripped bare.  A single pillow and a sheet
remained.  There was a large padlock on the closet door, locking the
contents inside.  The window had been blacked out.  A bare bulb was in a
single floor lamp, and there was a bare desk with an open laptop tethered to
it with a cable lock, a hard metal stool pushed underneath.  Then, there was
Ali herself.  She was kneeling in the center of the room, much like my
parents had been.  Other than a thick leather collar around her neck, she
was completely naked and displayed.  Only her hands were resting on her
thighs, instead of behind her back.  She was completely free of shackles.
Her eyes were downcast, but I could sense she was emotional.  I rushed
towards her, but with lighting fast reaction time, Kara grabbed the hood of
my sweatshirt and pulled me back.

"Don't even think about it," she barked.  "No one touches my property
without permission.  Up, slave," she snapped at Ali. "Go to my room and wait
for me.  Ignore the boy."

"Yes Mistress," Ali responded quietly, choking back what sounded like a few
tears.

I watched in muted horror as she rose to her feet, keeping her eyes on the
ground, and backed out of the room.  She was obviously conflicted about what
was going on.  I took that to mean on some levels she may have actually
cared about me, even if it was all a sham.

"Now you," Kara turned back to me.  "I'm doing one last favor for Ryan and
his dad, as I know you have no where else to turn.  You have a lot to think
about and not a lot of time to do it.  I've loaded that laptop there with
about a hundred bookmarked pages of material.  Articles, stories, free
porn.  Read it, learn it, explore.  Have fun.  Jerk off, whatever you need
to do," she continued very matter of factly.  She tossed a travel size
packet of tissues at me which I caught, my cheeks flushing.  "And then read
every word of that contract, twice.  You have that key Ali gave you?"

I nodded, reaching into my pocket, still kind of in a fog.

"Good, because you'll need it to get out.  The door locks from the outside,"
she nodded to the bedroom door.  "Take as long as you like, but you're out
by 4pm tomorrow."  She said coldly, turning to leave.  She paused and looked
back at me, her eyes trailing me up and down.  "And if you want my advice,
you'll sign the contract.  Let's face it; you're born to be a slave.  I can
sense it in you, just like in Ali," she continued, her voice softening a
bit.  "It won't be easy at first, but you will adjust.  In fact, I think you
will make quite the prized slave."  She sighed.  "Let yourself out, and if I
don't see you again, have a nice life."

With that, she left the room slamming the door behind her.  I looked around,
in a complete fog, unsure of where to turn, what to do.  My head was
spinning and throbbing.  I felt weak all over.  Glancing at the bed, I
collapsed on top of it, burying my face in the pillow.  Unabashedly, I began
to sob for several long minutes until I must have passed out from
exhaustion.

I awoke with a start, my cell phone vibrating against my leg tucked in the
pocket of my jeans.  I gasped as I jumped up.  I was drenched in a cold
sweat.  Looking around I knew that it wasn't a dream.  I fished in my pocket
for my cell, part of me hoping it was someone telling me the joke was up.
It was a text message from Ryan.  My adrenaline surged as I flipped the
phone open to read it.  My heart sank at the text, "CLOCK IS TICKING."

I looked at the time display on my phone.  It was almost 8:00pm.  I'd really
crashed.  Then I nearly dropped the phone as it vibrated with another text
from Ryan.

"HOPE U LIKE WHAT U R SEEING. CAN'T WAIT 2 C U ON UR KNEES, BITCH."

Angrily, I snapped the phone shut about to chuck it at the wall.  Fuck him.
But, something stopped me...something a little disturbing.  I felt my dick
twitching in the confines of my jeans.  Actually, I had a full hard-on.

I glanced to the computer screen glowing in the dimly lit room, almost
taunting me.  In a huff, I stormed over to the desk, pulled the stool out
and slammed it down.  I sat down, and jostled the mouse to remove the screen
saver.  I narrowed my eyes angrily at the first thing I saw: an open image
gallery of a male slave.  The slave was a young man that kind of resembled
me in some ways, no surprise why they picked it.  The photos showed him in
all manners of slavery, kneeling, chained, caged, hanging from his wrists,
being flogged, kissing a foot, and the list goes on.

Angrily, I clicked another of the open windows.  There was an archive of
stories.  Another contained a database of documents with file names like
"slave contracts", "rules for slaves", "a slave's story", "what makes a
slave?"  Another page was full of wannabe slave profiles.  I couldn't
believe how many people out there, all ages and makeups, actually wanted to
become slaves.  Then, more pictures, photo galleries of slaves in service,
men and women to men and women.

Another page had short videos of slaves in service, being beaten and
berated.  I clicked on one out of fascination.  It was set in a fake
dungeon, and a young male slave was writhing under the lash of his Master.
The slave was chained hand and foot and doing his best to obey the Master's
commands, but he wasn't doing them fast enough.  He was flogged for each
infraction until he was whimpering and begging for mercy, yet still thanking
his Master for each lash.  It was some crazy shit, but I couldn't take my
eyes away.

When the video ended, I lurched with a start.  I hadn't even realized it,
but I was rubbing my junk through my jeans.  My cock was rock hard.  I was
totally turned on!  I clicked another, and another, until I ran out of
videos on the page.  I was getting hot, so I peeled my sweatshirt off and
tossed it on the floor.  My jeans and boxers were irritating my dick, so I
pulled my pants down to my knees and sat there jerking off like some 14 year
old that uncovered his dad's porn stash.

I fumbled for the pack of tissues, blowing my first load halfway through a
fictional story about a frat guy that turned his nerdy college roommate into
his bitch.  That didn't stop me though, barely slowed me down.  I clicked
from stories, to articles to photos and back blowing a few more loads like I
hadn't cum in weeks.

My eyes were blurry from staring at the screen.  I glanced at the clock in
the corner.  It was after 4:00am.  Less than 12 hours to go.  I had long
since kicked off my shoes and stripped my pants totally off.  Kicking back
from the desk, I bent over to fish the contract from my sweatshirt pocket.
Jumping onto the bed near the light, I began to read.

At first it read like some sort of real legal document, very official
sounding.  I took note of words and phrases like "voluntary", "sound mind",
"understand the permanence of my decision", "hereby surrender all rights,
privileges and freedoms", "standard limitations of legality", "owner
reserves the right to dismiss slave, cancel or amend contract at any time,
or transfer ownership of slave at any time for any reason with or without
the slave's consent".

The last bit made me nervous, but I also felt a surge of that increasingly
familiar sense of excitement at the prospect.  I shook my head.  Maybe I was
delirious.  I didn't know what was going on.  How could I seriously be
considering this?  Yet, somehow I was. Of course, I couldn't actually
picture it happening.  I had no idea what it would really feel like or
what would happen to me.   But, given my choices.  Going it alone with 400
bucks to my name, no apartment, no tuition money, no girlfriend, no family,
no where to live wasn't an attractive option.

On the other hand, I could give into the nervous excitement I was
practically getting high on at the moment as I lay on the bed
rigorously jerking my throbbing cock while reading the contract.  My mind
filled with questions as I tossed the contract aside, having read it once.
There were pages of legalise, things about health, safety bank accounts,
things that didn't hold a whole lot of interest.  I was somewhat
disappointed that the contract stopped short of spelling out any of the
so-called protocols I had read about on one of the websites.  It would have
been helpful to know something, anything, about what kind of master Mr. Grey
was and what he expected of his slaves.  But it hit me then that it didn't
really matter, because all of it would be subject to change at the whim of
the master anyway.  I guess that's what being a slave is all about.

A groan escaped my lips as my 4th load of cum exploded from my cock.  I did
my best to catch it in my hand, some of it splattering onto my bare thighs
and stringing in my pubic hair.  I wiped myself clean with the package of
tissues, now nearly empty, and lay back on the pillow, catching my breath.

Who was I?  I didn't know anymore.  I woke up that morning on the cusp of
manhood, the whole world was practically at my feet, and now I had nothing,
nothing but this option.  Maybe I really was a born slave.  Maybe this was
my destiny?  My parents certainly believed so, or they never would have
agreed to this arrangement, that much I was sure of.  They had to have
enough fulfillment out of their chosen lifestyle to ever want it for their
son.  Somewhere in my contemplations, I drifted back to sleep.

Again, I woke with a start, my phone buzzing near my head where it lay on
the mattress.  Blinking my eyes awake in the dim light, I yawned opening the
cell.  Another message from Ryan, "IT'S ALMOST NOON. A GOOD SLAVE IS ALWAYS
EARLY."  For a moment I frowned, his taunting texts annoying me, but at the
same time, my cock sprung to a near full erection almost on cue.

I had made my choice, or at least I thought I had.  Slowly, I got redressed,
pulling on my jeans and slipping into my college hoody.  I'm sure I stank of
sweat and cum, but I didn't care.  Nervous adrenaline was pumping through
me.  I grabbed the crumpled contract off of the bed and slipped it back into
my front pocket.  Grabbing the door handle, I stopped short, remembering the
door locked from the outside.  I fumbled in my pocket for the key Ali had
given me and looked down at it sadly.  It now signified so much that it
hadn't before.  Inserting it in the lock, I exited into the hallway, leaving
the door open.

Kara's apartment seemed empty, which was for the better.  The last thing I
wanted to do was look her in the eye after last night.  I left the key on
the kitchen counter on my way out, and locked Kara's front door behind me,
jogging down the flight of stairs to the parking lot.

Before I knew it, I was in a near fog, speeding in Ryan's jeep back toward
the Grey's mansion.  My stomach was in knots.  I hadn't eaten a thing since
lunch yesterday, and I wasn't remotely hungry.  On the other hand, my cock
was rock hard in my jeans, regardless of the fact that I'd emptied my balls
4 times the night before.

The jeep slowed to a near stop at the end of the mansion's long driveway.  I
took a deep breath and swallowed hard.  I was already sweating nervously as
I slowly crept the vehicle up the asphalt, wondering if they were watching.
They were.

I barely had the jeep in park before Ryan stepped onto the driveway to meet
me.  He looked more like himself today, dressed in casual jeans and a
black hoody.  He smiled, smirked really, "Didn't think I'd see my jeep
again. Or you."

Swallowing, I stepped out of the jeep with a slight nod.  It felt strange,
as if I could feel the dynamic of our relationship changing already.  I knew
yesterday that no matter what I chose, it would never be the same.

"Keys," he demanded suddenly, holding out his hand.  I handed them over.
"Do you have it?"

I glanced down at the pocket of my sweatshirt, the pages of the contract
sticking out one side.  "Yes."

"Signed?"

I shook my head, "Not yet.  I...I have some questions."

"No questions," he stated coldly.  "Your job last night was to answer your
own questions.  Obviously, you did, because you're here.  Let's go."

He took hold of my arm, in much the same way Kara had done yesterday, and
escorted me into the house.  We walked briskly towards the sitting room
where my life had changed forever the day before.  I didn't think it was
necessary to be walked as I was, but I didn't do much to challenge his
grasp.  When we reached the room, Mr. Grey was waiting for us, seated in the
same position as yesterday.  Ryan released his grip on my arm, and pushed me
forward with a slight shove.

Mr. Grey smiled darkly, "Andrew, I admit I am a bit surprised to see you,"
he glanced at the clock that read 1:05pm, "and early at that.  Do you have
the contract?"

I nodded, pulling it out of my pocket.  "I haven't signed..." I started.

"Why not?" he asked, calmly.  "You wouldn't be here if you weren't going to
sign it.  So, what are you waiting for?" he asked, pulling an expensive pen
from his breast pocket and tossing it on the coffee table.

My heart was racing, and I was taking several short nervous breaths as I
tried to remain calm.  I glanced at Ryan who was watching me in eager
anticipation, and then Mr. Grey whose gaze was even and unfazed.  I wiped my
sweaty palms on my jeans as I knelt on one knee in front of the coffee
table, smoothing out the contract in front of me.  I took the pen, my hand
quivering in nervous anticipation.  With my other hand I wiped the sweat
from my forehead.  I closed my eyes for a long second, and then opened
them.  Taking one last deep breath, I inked my signature to the page, and
let the pen drop from my hand, the sound almost echoing in the stillness of
the room.  It was done.

 ***

To be continued. Comments and Feedback are encouraged: matt10019@gmail.com