Date: Sun, 22 Nov 2009 02:04:47 -0800 (PST)
From: JKBlackhouse <jkblackhouse@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brothers & Slaves: Chapt. 17: Meet 809

This is a work of fiction. The characters are invented. It is intended
solely for the fantasy entertainment of persons, age 18 or older, who want
to read about gay sex and male slavery. If you are not at least 18 years
old and/or this is not what you want, read no further.

Copyright 2009 Copyright reserved by the author.
JKBlackhouse

Brothers & Slaves:
Characters so far:

Danny 17, currently the narrator, high school junior, on soccer & track teams;
Ken 18,  Danny's older brother, athletic body, high school senior, plays
football, baseball & wrestles;
Gary 15, Danny's younger brother, young stud, high school freshman, footballer;
Tuck 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Don, soccer & track;
Don 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Tuck, backup quarterback.
Joey, 16, teammate of Danny and leader of team's turning him into their
shaved cocksucker;
Tim, 17, personal house slave of Ken, Danny and Gary;
Mr. Howard, owner, a slave training facility.
James: head slave of the family household.

Chapt. 16: Separated

Ken was stunned. No one treated him this way. But, he thought, just what
could he do about it? Not a damn thing. He was helpless. Ken had learned an
important first lesson a slave needed to learn. A slave does what he's told
to do and nothing else. A slave follows orders or he gets punished. End of
lesson. Like many of the others, Ken whimpered to himself, the tears again
flowing down his cheeks. This was for real. This was his new life. This was
simply the worst, most awful thing that could have happened to him. It made
him completely aware, at least for now, that he had no rights and no
say. They would do with him whatever they chose to do. He was just one more
piece of slave meat as far as they were concerned. Other than finally being
released from his cage, he hoped and prayed, Ken was not looking forward to
being delivered for training. Nor should he have been.

Chapt. 17: Meet 809

Once the truck arrived at the Slave Authority Facility, one by one, the
cages were opened and the new slaves told to hop off the back of the truck
and stand straight with their hands behind their heads. There were 16 of
them. It was getting dark and the naked slaves felt chilled in the cooling
air. Ken wanted to rub his arms to warm himself but realized he dare not
move his hands from behind his head. An officer led them to a smallish
brick building that had no visible windows. They were taken inside and each
was locked in a cage like the one he had just left. Each was given a bowl
of water and a bowl of slave chow. They were ordered to finish the chow and
then shove the bowl outside their cages under the front gate of each. They
were ordered to be silent. There was to be absolutely no speech among
them. Most of the boys no longer cared. They were so tired and emotionally
wasted, all they wanted was the freedom to lie down on their cage pads and
sleep.

Ken wondered if it was allowed to use his hands while eating the chow. He
saw that others were scooping up the awful stuff and shoving it into their
mouths, then leaning down to fit their mouths into the water bowls for
fluid to wash the stuff down. Seeing this, he did the same. Having no way
to clean his hands, he just rubbed them on his thighs. He simply had to
piss, so he pointed he dick away from his cage and let his stream loose. He
hoped he hadn't drenched one of the others, but he was too tired to really
care. He was simply exhausted, mentally as well as physically. He was, for
now, cried out. He lay on his pad, curled up, and was almost immediately
sleeping.

Much too soon, a bell rang loudly and he found himself just where he'd been
the night before, locked in a slave cage. He felt grimy and filthy and
indeed, none of the slaves looked their best, all showing signs of dirt and
urine. The bell sounded again and all of the cage doors opened
simultaneously. They were ordered to crawl out and kneel before their
cages, backs straight, knees spread and hands behind their bowed
heads. They were told this was the ordinary way a slave presented
itself. They were to remember this hence forward.

They were led to a cleansing room off the main room. They were to give
eachother enemas until each was clean. They were to then shower with a
partner, cleaning eachother. They were not to touch themselves. Their
bodies were no longer theirs and this was intended to help teach them
that. The water was cold, the soap gritty and there were no towels. Once
cleaned, they were told to kneel and each was fitted with a medium black
buttplug. There were many moans and groans as virgin asses had to
accommodate the black intruder. Ken swore silently to himself as he felt
the plug pushing through his asshole and lodging itself firmly in his
ass. He felt full back there but contracting his ass muscles and pushing
down against the plug of itself did not eject it. They were informed they
would wear these all day, every day, just as most slaves did on the
outside. They were told the plugs would gradually get larger as their
training progressed. They were never to be
 unplugged unless in their cages or given permission to remove the plug.

The rest of the day was much as you'd expect for slaves being newly
processed. First came the permanent removal of all body hair, even though
half of them were short-termers not lifeslaves. For the slaves indentured
only for a term, the hair on their heads was shaved, leaving only a
slavehawk down the center. Their eyebrows were also shaved. For the
lifeslaves, other than the slavehawk, head and eyebrows were permanently
removed.

They were next taken to the restraint and metal shop. Each was fitted with
the tightest possible permanent titanium band around his cock and
testicles. A second band encircled the balls alone, and they were in turn
separated by a central band a quarter-inch wide. Their balls showed the
taut, shiny skin that resulted and felt constantly under pressure, as
indeed they were. They were forced to walk slightly bowlegged if they
wanted to avoid the continual brushing of their balls on their inner thighs
as they moved about.

Each slave was fitted with a metal collar that, for now, was only padlocked
on. Restraint bands were fitted to their ankles and wrists. These were each
several inches wide and, like the collar and genital and ball bands, had
several D-rings. A chain leash was clipped to each of their collars,
available for use by an officer at any time. When not held by an officer,
it simply hung part way down the slave's bare chest and abdomen, striking
their skin as they moved, just one additional reminder they were slaves not
persons.

As the processing continued, Ken despaired of what was happening to him,
what was being done to him. Worse, commanded to be silent, there was no one
with whom he could talk about his, and their, feelings. He just hoped and
even prayed, though in truth he had no belief in the power of prayer, that
he would not have the slave "S" tattooed or branded into his skin. He
realized he was stuck for life with the genital jewelry but that was
essentially invisible except in the most intimate circumstances, but the
"S"? Anytime he took off his shirt, say to swim, there it would be for
anyone to see. They would know he'd been a slave or maybe think him an
escaped slave. How many times would he have to deal with that, he wondered.

The next step in processing was the piercings. He'd almost forgotten about
those. Oh god, he thought, these too would mark him for life since some
could be permanent. The slaves were lined up in two groups of eight. The
front slave in each line was taken into a room, there were screams the
waiting slaves could hear and only imagine what the officers might be doing
to their fellows.

Ken was the third slave in his line. He trembled and began sweating as a
guard grabbed his leash chain and led him into the room. There he was
placed chest up on a metal table his wrists and ankles were secured to the
corners, his collar to the end. He was gagged and blindfolded. Straps held
his upper arms, thighs and abdomen. There was a strap across his forehead
holding his head firmly in place and straps on his chest above and below
his nipples. He fully understood these would be pierced, he just didn't
know how big the rings would be nor how painful the insertion might be. All
he was told was that he was going to be ringed, it was going to hurt and
it'd be best for him to not move, not that it was possible for him to
anyway.

They began with his ears. Only later could he see the size of each ring
that had been inserted. For the ears, the rings were one inch in diameter
and quite thin though heavy. A weighted ball hung at the bottom of each
earring. Next his nipples. These were standard two inch diameter heavy
slave rings again with a weight ball at the bottom. While the ears had felt
like stings, the nipple piercings caused him considerable agony and he
screamed as much as the gag allowed and squirmed as much as he could as
they were done. He was sweating profusely and could smell his own sweat as
it dripped from his armpits and moistened the rest of his body. He cried as
his body was being mutilated.

With two inch nipple rings, though these were not permanent, if released,
they would be replaced by one inch rings, no one would mistake him as
anything but a slave. Those rings were identification enough. Next came the
one inch diameter, thick PA ring, this was permanent, followed by a one
inch ring through the bottom of his ballsac and one in his perineum midway
between his balls and his asshole. Next came the two inch snout ring. He
cringed as he heard and felt the cartilage in his nose crack when the hole
was punched. He pictured himself as an animal with a nose ring hanging over
his lips, something he'd have to move just to eat and drink.

The final rings were only recently mandated. These were tight rings placed
on each of his large toes. They were permanent. Every step he would take
for the rest of his life would remind him through these rings that once he
had been a slave. Going barefoot as he assumed he would as a slave would
probably mean he'd feel the odd tight rings even more insistently as he
walked - or crawled. He could feel the small amounts of blood he'd lost
being wiped away just before they released him from the table.

Made to stand and view himself in a mirror, he wept at what he saw. A fully
ringed and banded naked, hairless slave, a person, no just a body, he could
barely recognize, the rings so changed him. As soon as he stood, he felt
the weight of the rings hanging from his ears, nipples and cock pulling on
him in most painful ways. He whimpered as he experienced the tug of the
rings, especially the most tender nipple and cock areas. The toe rings he'd
not seen before except on girls decorating themselves, they were the most
surprising. He knew slaves did not routinely wear these. Were they added
humiliation just for his group or were they now standard issue? He had no
way of knowing.

The slaves were allowed to rest by sitting or lying on the floor for 20
minutes, once all had been pierced. Each could see what he looked like by
looking at another slave, transfigured just as he had been. A tub of water
was also set out for them, allowing them to dip their new snout rings into
the water and sip what they wanted. Ken felt the plug pressing into his ass
as he sat resting. He absolutely hated the fact that the fullness in his
ass, while mighty uncomfortable, was also beginning to feel good. How could
this be?

Twenty minutes, all passed in silence, was not much of a rest after all
their bodies had been put through, but it was all that was allowed. It was
one pride of this Facility, that it could complete the initial processing
of a new slave in a single day, and their processing was not yet complete.

They were next taken to the body marking department. The procedure was the
same, two lines of eight slaves each. When it was Ken's turn, he was led
into the room and placed spread-eagled between two hanging chains. A
leather hood was placed over his head. The only openings were two tiny
grommets, one for each nostril. His sight and hearing were lost and the
hood included a gag which filled his mouth with a leather cock. He was kept
completely vertical by straps around his body and legs that circled behind
a wide post against which his back had been placed.

It began with his right arm bound to a horizontal stand. He could feel the
needle as it punctured his forearm, permanently marking him with his
SIN. At the same time he felt another set of pinpricks along the top of his
back. What were they putting there? He later saw, by looking at the other
new slaves, that his SIN had been tattooed there. When he felt the needle
on his right ass cheek, he knew they must be marking him with slave "S."
Within the hood, he was unable to do anything but moan and cry. There was a
cascade of tears. Simultaneously, he could feel the "S" being tattooed on
his left pectoral, right above his ringed nipple. His only consolation was
that he wasn't being branded, at least not yet. The final indignity was a
sudden needle he felt plunged deeply into his left armpit. He knew what
this was about. It was his GPS chip. For the rest of his life, the State
would be able to find him any time it wanted to.

When he was released from the straps that held him to the post and from the
chains, an officer on each side had to support him since between the pain
and the humiliation, he could barely stand. He felt his chain tug at his
collar. He was led from the room still hooded and gagged and instructed to
sit. He could sense other slaves around him but he could neither see nor
hear them. Just as well, he thought, to see them would be to see the
markings on his own body. It was hard for him to understand how changed he
now was in just one day. He not only knew he was a slave, he now felt like
a helpless animal, a slave for real. He was overwhelmed and the tears again
flowed down his cheeks. There were sobs as well, but gagged, only Ken could
hear them. He wanted to be home again.

The slaves were told to stand. The leash of each was clipped to the rear of
the collar of the slave to his front. One of the officers held the leash of
the first slave in the daisy chain. He led them back to their cages. Their
hands were locked into heavily padded leather mitts to prevent them from
damaging the piercings and tattoos. Then they were left for the night,
still hooded, with neither food nor water. This was to teach them that they
now depended for all things, even the staples of life, on their Masters. It
was to further make them feel they were slaves. They were not people
entitled to anything. No, they were slave things, soon to be identified
only by the last three digits of their SIN's. Ken was now slave thing 809,
short for 37681809. He didn't yet know this and wouldn't until the next
morning.

Ken wanted only one thing. To be home again and free. Alas....


Copyright 2009 JKBlackhouse. This work may not be reproduced, except for
personal use, without permission of the author. Reproduction for any other
use is prohibited.

Comments, story ideas, criticisms and suggestions are most welcome. Please
let me know what you think of the story. Feedback really helps keep me
writing. Thanks to those who have written - and thanks for sending so many
interesting ideas and scenarios - I've used some and I am keeping others in
mind. Keep them coming.

email: jkblackhouse@yahoo.com