Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2006 14:05:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Falsely Enslaved, Part Five

FALSELY ENSLAVED

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  Five


The car was stopped at a small hotel in a nearby
medium-sized town:  I'd never been there before as it
was out of running range for us.  But it was all in a
great hurry, and Officer Hughes was nervous, and urged
me to hurry up as I pulled on the loose-fitting polo
shirt and jeans that had been provided.  I had huge
problems with the shoes, though, as even those open
strapped sandal things felt so strange on my feet
which had spread a lot from being unrestricted for so
long.  I felt so uncomfortable and kind of "itchy", as
I was now so used to the air on my bare skin that
clothes were strange, almost unreal, and unnecessary.

I kept asking Officer Hughes what was happening, why
we were racing like this, and where Sam was, and all
he'd say was "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not authorised
to tell you that at this point in time."  It felt
really weird to have someone else calling me "sir", as
that was what I'd had to do for those years if I had
been allowed to speak at all, although it seemed to be
Officer Hughes' natural manner. And certainly I wasn't
going to whip him if he failed to do so, which had
happened to me on several occasions before my brain
had "learned" to top and tail every single utterance
to a free man with "sir".

We rushed on to the train station, and I got the
impression that one of the cross-country super liners
had been told to make a special stop for us, and to
wait until we arrived, as the moment we were on board
it roared away.  No harsh slave benches this time - we
had a private compartment in "first class plus",
although I didn't get to enjoy the champagne and stuff
as Officer Hughes was not allowed to drink on duty,
and turned away the wines that our private serving
slave kept offering.  I persisted in asking what was
going on, and always got the "not authorised to tell
you" until I finally stopped asking, and just sat
there in unaccustomed idleness watching the landscape
roll by outside the window.  It was the first time for
years, literally, that I'd had time off, time to
myself, and my body was restless, totally unused to
not being in motion, or asleep.

A squad of officers came on board at Houston to escort
us to a convoy of cars, and we sped through the
downtown to what was clearly a very luxurious hotel -
even though we went in through the parking garage
entrance and not the main lobby there were slaves
everywhere to open doors as we went past, bowing
deeply.   They hadn't given us a suite, though, just
an absolutely enormous room with two big double beds
and a couple of couches, and a TV and media centre.
The bathroom was almost beyond belief:  the bath,
shower and lavatory were all in separate areas with
marble tiled walls between them, and there was every
conceivable sort of soap and cream on display.
Officer Hughes was looking kind of uncomfortable as he
saw me inspecting all this, and muttered "I'm sorry
it's a bit cramped, sir... The budget's been cut
recently, and so we'll be sharing this room and there
are no private sitting facilities or anything - we're
going to be here at least a couple of weeks, sir, and
I hope that doesn't embarrass you, having to share a
bedroom and a bathroom with me...."

I laughed at him, and explained that for the last
three years I'd been sharing a much smaller space with
between twenty and forty others, with absolutely no
privacy at all.  I told him I thought it was he who
might have the problem, and he blushed slightly as he
told me that he was a witness protection specialist,
and he'd been trained not to worry about things like
that.

"Witness protection?", I asked.  Officer Hughes, who
had been occasionally listening to stuff on the radio
earpiece he wore, nodded.  "I've just been cleared to
give you the full picture, sir...."

"Look, Officer, can't we just cut the 'sir' stuff?"

"Certainly, Mr Masters...."

"If we're going to be sharing this room for a couple
of weeks, I think we deserve to be on first name
terms, don't you?"

"Sorry, Mark, you did say..."

"I said I was Steve now..... That's what I was
re-named, and I've kind of got used to it.  But what
does your wife call you, officer?"

He looked really embarrassed then, and gave a small
quiet smile.  "Well the last time, it was 'you
cheating bastard', as she'd found out I'd been with
another officer when we were on one of these
assignments.  She pushed me out, and won't even let me
see my son."

"So your girlfriend, then...."

"I'm kind of 'between' girlfriends at the moment.  I
don't get a whole lot of time to hang out in the clubs
and bars.... But I'm Stuart.  And my friends call me
Stu."

"This is like pulling teeth, Stu!  All that time to
get your name out of you!"

"We're trained that way, Steve, as it's not always a
good plan to let the public know an officer's name..."

"OK, but tell me what the fuck's going on..... And
where's Sam?  Is he OK?"

"It's a long story...."

"We've got two weeks, you said...."

He smiled again.  I saw he had a really handsome face,
and when things weren't serious and he broke out into
a tiny grin, he was very appealing.  I took a quick
look at his body, too, well, as much as I could
discern as he was still in his suit:  Sam and I
wouldn't have hesitated to see if he'd be interested
in an evening's fucking, I decided.

"It's like this, Steve.  We track stuff like the
number of disappearances, and we noticed a
disproportionate number of people going missing in the
twenty to thirty year age group - mostly white
females, but a statistically significant number of
males, too. There was some work done on it, but when a
Senator's daughter went missing, all hell broke lose
and the Department was told to find her.  We didn't,
as it so happens, but it kicked off a number of
projects to try to find out where they'd all gone."
He paused for a moment, and went on "I don't want to
bore you, but the state now knows a lot about people -
your medical history, your weight the last time you
visited a hospital or doctor, even whether you're
circumcised or not!  Most of those who went missing
were in pretty good shape physically, and we though
they might be the victims of illegal slave traders.
It's almost impossible to infiltrate organisations
like that, as by definition, the victims disappear
into the general pool of slaves, and are really hard
to find unless you know their SINs, which we didn't.
And none of the slavers is ever going to talk, as the
automatic penalty for illegal slave trading is
enslavement, which they certainly wouldn't want!  I
mean, making a man a slave is about the worst thing
you can do to him."

"Oh come on, Stu, there are hundreds made slaves every
day...."

"Yes, but those are done legally, because they've
broken the law.  They deserve it!  Even the northern
states, where slave owning is illegal, will ship
criminals off to  the south.  But to take a man's
freedom illegally... Well, you'll know how terrible
that is."

I nodded, and Stu went on "Thinking about it, it
seemed that only the very rich could afford the costs
of illegal slaves - they would already have the
infrastructure for managing and controlling big herds
of slaves, and a few illegals mixed in would be easy
to cope with.  Some little old lady buying a gardener
or a cook would hardly buy an illegal, after all, as
the slave could easily make the truth known.  Only on
a big holding, with the slaves very rigidly managed
and controlled, could illegals be concealed.  We
decided to try to get operatives 'under cover' with
the super rich, but it's not easy - they're a tight
clique, and how on earth could the Department afford
to give its operatives the background, and trappings,
that would 'ring true' to the super rich?   Finally
one of our strategists conceived of the plan that has
just come to fruition:  it was kind of long term, as
it involved going via the sons and daughters of these
people:  it's inherently easier for a kid at School to
pretend to be from a rich background, he can mingle
with the kids of the really rich, keep an ear open to
find out what's going on....  We couldn't do anything
about the currently disappeared people, but, in time,
maybe we could collect intelligence at the
'fashionable' schools that would help us."

"The problem was who to send:  by the time we're
trained, all our operatives are too old.  Me, for
example, I couldn't mix with college kids as I've been
through it five years ago, and then did the special
operative's training....  So we advertised,
discretely, for High School kids with an interest in
stamping out slavery!   You may think that's an odd
thing for the Government to do, but we needed to
recruit people who shared our desire to root out the
illegal slavers.  Of course, a lot of kids who saw the
advertisement thought it was the Government trying to
compile a register of citizens with the potential for
seditious behaviour.  Still, we had a fair few
applicants, and, as it so happens, one of them was
your brother, James."

"Jamie", I corrected.

"Well, Jamie impressed us - he was big and tough, and
he was really pissed off about your disappearance and
truly wanted to help.  We can harness motivation like
that, and gave him a crash course in using ciphered
cell phones and stuff like that.  At the last minute
there was almost a hitch when your parents forbad him
to go to a college in the south, even though all the
fees and other expenses were being paid by us and it
was a huge load off your parents' finances.. They're
really against slavery, as I understand it."

"Yes.  I wish I'd listened to them, and never crossed
the border!"

"Well it must be a family trait, as Jamie ignored them
too.  We gave him a big allowance, some nice clothes,
and a story about being brought up by a rich uncle in
Europe, and now being sent back to the USA for a
proper education.   One of our Bureau Chiefs is an
alumnus of that exclusive frat your so-called owner
was a member of, and a huge donation, and a bit more
cover story, and Jamie was in.  All we wanted him to
do was to keep his ears open, and, frankly, he went
too far - his reports alarmed us a bit when he started
to tell us about all  the fucking he'd done of the
slaves....."

"I know.  I was one of them."

Stu looked really uncomfortable.  "Well, I suppose he
didn't know.....", he muttered.  Then he cleared his
throat and went on "We wanted him to get DNA samples
from as many of the women slaves as he could, and once
he really buddied up to Brett, and with Brett's desire
to 'stud' you and Sam, it was quite easy:  he
volunteered to help Brett, particularly in cleaning up
you ponies afterwards, and kept the tissues as they
would be covered in the slave girl's DNA."

Stu stopped at this point, and lowered his voice.
"I'm sorry, Steve.... I called you a pony...."

"It's OK.  That's what I was... Am, even.... Can I get
these fucking rings out...?"

"Later, possibly.  Anyway, as we did the analysis we
certainly found a lot of the women who had been
missing.... And then a zealous lab technician one
night ran a match against the general 'missing
persons' database.... And found you and some of the
other men.  He was reprimanded for wasting
departmental resources, actually, as we were really
only after the women... .the senator's daughter, in
particular."

"It figures!  All those rich bastards like
senators...."

"I really can't comment on that, Steve.  But then we
did some in depth research and tracking back trough
UPS records and so on, and found a small dealer who
had been involved with a lot of trades.... And the
investigation really took off.  Suffice it to say we
had enough evidence to raid the estates and demesnes
of some of the south's richest men:  I've just heard
that your ostensible owner, Mr Walker, had over thirty
illegals in his herd of two hundred - so many makes it
statistically unlikely that it was accidental, so he's
now waiting trial."

"But why all this rushing around with me... And
where's Sam?"

"Ah well, the problem is that of those thirty, twenty
nine are in fact 'true' slaves!  They were free men
when they were illegally enslaved by the man Jed who
processed you, but they were in fact illegal
immigrants, mostly from the Caribbean - there's not
much work there, you know, and no prospects.  As
illegal immigrants, as we discovered when we
investigated them, they are automatically enslaved.
And slaves cannot testify in Court about what happened
to them.  So they're useless as witnesses, and are
even now being auctioned off, this time with the
proper paperwork."

"But where's Sam?  He was a marine, a citizen:  he was
on is way to visit his folks...."

"What Sam told you is true as far as it went.  What he
failed to mention is that he was on a charge, for
consorting with an officer's daughter, even when the
officer had ordered him to stop.  And, knowing Sam as
you do, you can guess that for 'consorting' we can
read' fucking':  that sort of mingling between
officers and the ranks used to be allowed, but is now
considered to be very bad for discipline generally and
so is forbidden under General Orders.  He failed to
turn up at his hearing before the Commanding Officer
of his unit, and was posted 'absent without leave'.
And after two weeks of AWOL, someone in the armed
forces is automatically guilty of gross dereliction of
duty.... For which the penalty, at least here in the
south, is enslavement.  So even as he was being sold
illegally, Sam was in fact legally a slave, although
the enslavers had no way of knowing that!  And, as I
said, a slave can't testify in Court....  You're about
the only material witness we have, Steve."

"But where's Sam now?"

Stu looked really unhappy.  "On an auction block
somewhere, I'd think... The Bureau has no use for him,
and he's a slave...."

"No!  You can't...."

"It's the law, Steve."

"No, I'm going to find him...."

"I'm sorry, Steve, but you can't leave this room.  I
must tell you, formally, that you're a Government
witness in a major conspiracy trial, and, as such,
you're bound by Court Order to obey officers of the
Court, of whom I'm one.  And if you disobey....."

"....I'll be punished!  I'm used to that.  I'm still a
slave, then!"

"No, Steve.  You're a free man.  But I have to warn
you that the Courts take a grim view of witnesses who
waste their time, and if you do try to leave and go
looking for Sam, you might easily end up as a slave
again - a proper one this time!"

"I might as well be a slave, locked up, no freedom, no
Sam....."

Stu looked kind of sad.  "I know it's tough, Steve,
but a citizen has a duty to do all he can to assist
the state,  And this isn't like being locked up...
You've got everything here, and room service can bring
you anything you want...."

"Yes, why am I here?"

"You're in witness protection.  As I said, there
aren't many material witnesses to this illegal
enslavement investigation that involves some of the
richest and most powerful men in the south.  Their
easiest way out of this would be to remove you totally
- no witness, clever lawyers, no crime!  I'm here to
protect you, and that's why we whisked you hundreds of
miles away."

"But Sam...."

"You two were close, real close, weren't you?"  I
nodded.  "Look, Steve, I can't promise anything, but
I'll ask my buddies in the Bureau to find out what's
happened to him.  Who knows, when all this is over,
you might be able to buy him from whoever is his then
owner."

Well that had to satisfy me for the time being, and
after the journey I was really tired and so we decided
to go to bed early.  I just stripped off the clothes
I'd been given, went into the bathroom, and soaked for
a long, long time in a really hot tub.  I came back
into the bedroom completely naked of course, as it was
nothing new for me, and saw Stu looking at me.

"Yeah, these fucking rings and things.... When can I
get them off?"

"Oh, I was sorry to stare, Steve... And it wasn't the
rings.... It's you, generally - I hadn't realised how
fit you look - I only saw you for a few moments at the
Plantation, and now, close up...."

I flexed my muscles a bit to impress him, and smiled,
as I thought Stu was kind of cute - his combination of
almost boyish innocence combined with the
responsibility of his job was almost like an
aphrodisiac.  "Well any time you want to experience
more if it..... If you fancy a fuck, for example....."

He blushed bright red!  "Steve, I'm on duty, you know.
 And without wishing to denigrate gay men in any way,
as the Bureau is completely non-discriminatory in
these things, well... well I'm straight:  I told you,
I've got a son, even."

"I wasn't asking about your sexuality Stu, just if you
wanted a fuck!  A lot of straight guys play both
sides, you know.  In fact I reckon most of the men
I've seen recently who own slaves use them
sexually...."

"Well I don't.", he almost snapped, and that seemed to
be the end of it.

Nevertheless I'd been really turned on by the thought
of Stu, and when he came out of the bathroom in a T
and his boxer shorts, I felt my erection climbing:  he
had very well-shaped hairy legs, and there were curls
of hair peeping out of the neck of is T, which
promised a really good thatch on his chest.  I missed
my own hair, and had decided to stop shaving
immediately, and I was almost desperate to see Stu's
body in all its masculine glory.  There was no chance
that night, though, and although I listened very hard,
I didn't hear him jerk off as he lay there in the
other bed.  And in the morning, it was the reverse of
the night before:  he went into the bathroom (although
I'm sure I detected a morning hard-on tenting the
front of his boxers), and after the shower had run for
some time, he emerged fully dressed and neatly suited.

It was fucking boring in that room, even with the TV,
and as much food and drink as I wanted, and by
lunchtime I was really restless - I wasn't used to
sitting around doing nothing, and the pleasure of it
soon palls, I find.    I asked Stu if we could go out
for a run or something, and he said it was out of the
question, as my location was a secret and I couldn't
be allowed to show my face on the street.  When I
protested that I'd go mad if I was shut up for two
weeks like this, and when he'd sat and watched me run
on the spot, do a whole lot of trunk curls, press-ups,
and other stuff, he got on his phone.

They agreed I could use the hotel gym and pool after
it closed for the night and the other guests had left.
 Stu said that meant we'd need to "time shift" a bit,
so we would stay up very late but could then eat
breakfast very late, an so on.  I dozed a bit during
the afternoon, ate a light dinner as I didn't want my
belly full of food when I was going to exercise, and
we went down to the sports complex about midnight.

To my surprise, Stu changed in our bathroom into a
sports shirt and gym shorts, with some
professional-looking training shoes.  He saw me
looking at him in this new outfit, and told me that
all agents were required to be fit, and it was no
problem for him as he liked exercise anyway.  I didn't
have any kit, of course, but it didn't worry me:  I
simply stripped off totally once we were in the
complex, and set about really working my body on the
superb equipment, all the time keeping an eye on Stu
as he worked away, too:  in fact, as men do when
they're in the gym, we began almost unconsciously to
compete with each other in terms of who could have
their running machine going the fastest, who could
press the heaviest weights, and so on.  It was no
contest, of course:  three years of really using my
body had given me a strength and resilience that Stu
couldn't match, even though the streams of sweat
pouring off him showed me how much he was trying.

I leapt in the pool then, and that was he first time
I'd swum since enslavement.  I used to love swimming,
and now I had the added pleasure of doing it without
any stupid bathing costume on.  I hung around at the
deep end then, expecting Stu to join me and knowing
I'd be rewarded with the sight of most of his body,
even if he wore a costume.... And maybe, if he hadn't
come prepared, he might even be naked like me.  But
Stu just sat on the side, watching me, and when  I
called out to him to join me, he shook his head.
"It's my gun, Steve.  I'd love to swim, but I have to
keep my gun with me at all times in case there's an
attack on you, and it can't go in the water."

Thwarted like that, I hoped he might shower in the
pool complex, but he didn't and we went back to our
room all sweaty, and he went through his normal night
time routine of changing into a fresh T and boxer
shorts with the door closed.

After three days of being tantalised by glimpses of
his body, I was getting desperate - one morning he
even went to scratch his belly slightly and  I was
rewarded by a sight of a thick treasure train across
it - but only for the briefest instant.  I determined
to do something, and when he went into the bathroom
the next night for his shower and to change, I gently
opened the door so he wouldn't hear as he showered,
and picked up all his clothes, and all the towels, and
carried them out into the bedroom, closing the door
behind me.

Stu's head poked around the door a few minutes later
as I was lying naked on my bed.  He saw the towels on
the other side of the room, and called out to me to
toss him one.  "I'm not a fucking slave, you know,
Stu!", I told him.  "There they are - help yourself."


He had to walk across in front of me, and his
long-limbed body was superb:  his pecs were tight and
high, and I could see glimpses of his ribs through the
dense thatch of hair on him.  There were some traces
of hard ridges of muscle on his belly (which lay
underneath a flat, neat belly button), and, in keeping
with the rest of him, his dick was long and sleek,
with the piss slit just visible where his 'skin had
retracted slightly.  I wanted o throw myself on him,
but as he went for the towels, I slid off the bed,
picked up a hand towel, muttered "Here, let me
help...", and began to dab at his chest with it.  I
deliberately let my hand brush one of his nipples,
which responded by going hard, and I locked my eyes on
his as I let the towel slip lower and lower as I
worked my way down his body.  I didn't think he'd let
me do it, but when I slipped to my knees and gently
stroked at his dick with the towel, he moaned
appreciatively.  Spurred on by this, I leant forward
and the intoxicating smell of him, clean and fresh
from the shower, almost overpowered me.  I kissed his
dick gently, and as I did so it began to swell and
firm, and rise from his body.  "No....", he muttered,
without much conviction though!

Look, I've told you I'm a straight guy, and with Sam,
and occasionally with the other ponies, I only fucked
and jerked around:  in our stables it wasn't really
the "done thing" for guys to give blow jobs, so I had
no experience really.  But I sensed that if I was on
my knees in front of him he might subconsciously think
of me as a slave and therefore let me go ahead.  So I
kissed it, licked it, took it in my mouth and swirled
my tongue around it, and, as I did so, I curled one
arm around his hard, muscular butt ostensibly to hold
myself steady, but actually to pull him closer to me,
and to allow my fingers to start to explore down the
warm, moist crack in his butt.

Frankly, I wanted to experience him so much that I
didn't care whether he fucked me, or I fucked him.
But he'd told me he had no experience of going with
guys, so after I'd excited his dick for some time and
my mouth was tasting the salty taste of pre-cum, I
gently manoeuvred him towards my bed, and pushed him
backwards.  I threw myself on to him then, rubbing my
body all along his and exciting fresh moans of ecstasy
from him.  He was a trained fighter, I suppose, but my
time with Sam had taught me that I could overcome even
a strong trained guy if  I started correctly - and
with my solid mass of muscle on top of him, there
wasn't a whole lot Stu could do.

I moved around, and managed to get his upper arms
pinioned to the bed with my knees, as my hands held
his down above his head.  I then shuffled my dick so
it was wiping his lips, and he opened them gently so
he could kiss my dick as I had his.  I knew I had him
then, and I reached backwards with one hand and
started to jerk him off, sliding his 'skin sensuously
on and off his dick head.  When I sensed he was about
to cum, I moved quickly to lie next to him, so that
his cum fountained out over me, and I in turn could
then rub along him so that we were both covered in it.

He was lying there, a big smile on his face and his
eyes half closed, and I nibbled at his earlobe
(something Sam had taught me that most guys seem to
enjoy) as I whispered "So, big boy, first time, eh?"

"Yes, Steve."

"Well it is for me, too, in a way....."

"You told me you and Sam... And the other ponies...."

"No, Stu.  This was the first time for me when I so
fancied a guy that I set out to seduce him.  It's the
first time I'm not 'responding' to Sam and the others,
and actively going on the offensive to seduce a
straight guy."

"You're pretty good for a first timer!"

"And you, Stu.  Now, are you going over to your own
bed, or can I tempt you to stay here with me?"  I saw
him looking hesitantly, and smiled as I said "You
know, if  I was attacked, you could defend me a lot
better if you were right by me...."

It took me two more days to get Stu to the point where
I could slide my dick into him as he lay there on my
bed.  I was so gentle, so considerate, and it made a
real change from the normal rough and tumble of sex
with Sam and the other ponies.  I took him in the
position I really prefer, but don't often get to be
able to use:  a pillow under his hips to raise his
butt just slightly, him lying full length with his
head resting in his cradled arms, and me on top, in
contact with his entire body, our legs intertwined,
and my dick teasing and pushing and nuzzling at his
ass until it slipped in.  Then an hour of glorious,
unbelievable teasing and pushing and stroking and
fondling and kissing the sweaty nape of his neck as my
dick gradually, ever so gradually, came to a full
climax and my cum shot into him.  We lay there then,
me still on top of him, buried in him, as he turned
his head around almost in a frenzy to try to kiss me
over and over  as he repeatedly cried "Steve, Steve,
Steve...."

Look, Sam and I were long-time lovers, and I've told
you how close we were , living, working and fucking
together twenty four hours a day.  So you might think
I was cheating on him by taking Stu like this - well,
think what you like.  I know I still longed for Sam,
but he wasn't there, was he?  And he might never be
again.  And, in any case, sex with Sam was not like
this:  it was a roller coaster of two had bodies
tussling and jostling for supremacy, so unlike this
slow, languorous utterly sensual time with Stu.

I'd kept asking Stu to get a farrier or someone to
take my rings out, but no one ever arrived.  And as we
were lying together one day, panting and sweaty form
our sex, he ran his hand over me lightly as he did,
and muttered "You need to shave, Steve...."

"You can talk!  My hair himself!  I used to be more
like you, Stu, and I'm letting it grow again as I'm
tired of looking like a slave."

"You can't do that yet, Steve.  Come on - let's get in
that big tub together, and I'll shave you - it will be
fine...."  I tensed.  I'm always suspicious when
someone starts to try to soft talk me into something.
"Why can't I do it?  I'm a free man, I can do what I
like with my body hair."

"Oh, come on, Steve.... It will be fun, having me
shave you...."

"Cut the crap, Stu!  Tell me what this is all about,
and tell me right now!"

He looked really uncomfortable.  "Look, the lawyers
didn't want me to tell you, in case you objected
before you're in the Court and you have no choice.
But there's a problem with the evidence - as I said,
most of the other participants are now indeed slaves,
and can't testify.  So you're our star witness, and
the lawyers are worried that the other side will try
to trip you up, catch you out when you can't recall in
detail what was done, or when... all that sort of
thing.  So they're planning to get you to strip off to
show the jury your brand, your tattoos, your rings,
and how you were shaved, and 'skinned...."

"I won't do it!"

"That's what they think, so the plan was not to tell
you until you were in Court.  Then the judge could
order you to do it, to present the evidence, and if
you refused you'd be in contempt of court....  And I
wasn't supposed to tell you, but had to make sure you
stayed smooth, with the rings and stuff in, and that's
why the farrier has not appeared..   And now there
will be hell to pay, if the Government case collapses
because of me."

Well Stu ad I argued for hours about it, and I reckon
he was lucky that I liked him so much, and agreed to
further humiliate myself publicly to save his job!
Unlike the old days, when cases could take months to
prepare, in our new system of swift justice these
things all happen really quickly now.  So I only had a
couple more weeks with Stu before I was in Court,
giving evidence, and there in the dock were old man
Walker, the tan-suited dealer, and Jed.  As Stu had
said, their lawyers, and old man Walker's in
particular, who I suppose were the most highly paid,
tried every trick in the book to make it seem that my
evidence was fabricated.  Finally, one morning, the
Government lawyer asked for the Court to be cleared of
everyone except the judge, jury, lawyers, defendants,
and me (still over fifty people!), and then the judge
peered over the top of his desk and said quietly "Mr
Masters, please disrobe."

I don't know why I was so shy and embarrassed.  After
all, I'd spent the last three years naked, and I'd
been made to do unspeakable things like fuck in front
of other people.  But having to walk around the
courtroom, my dick cinched out in front of me and my
nipple rings bouncing, was just about the worse thing
that I'd ever had to do.  I think I only did it
eventually as Stu had said he'd massage the slave oil
into my skin so that it shone properly himself - and I
negotiated for him to really do it "all over", and had
lain there on the bed as his big hands caressed all of
me - I'd insisted he was totally naked, too, and so it
wasn't a totally wasted day.

When I had to approach right up to the jury box and
the Government lawyer fingered my dick to show them
the faint scars from my 'skinning, I think we won the
day:  most of the men were sitting there kid of
cross-legged, and the women couldn't take their eyes
off me.  I think we won because the jury truly
believed that no free man would willingly brand,
tattoo and 'skin himself, so it must have been the
most gross form of coercion that I had experienced.

Look, I don't want to bore you with all the details of
he case, but it was a real landmark.  All the men were
found guilty, and the automatic penalty was
enslavement.  Once they were slave, the dealer and Jed
could of course be tortured into revealing information
which, as free men, they'd been allowed to keep secret
so as to avoid incriminating themselves:  the names of
the other dealers that Jed dealt with, the names of
other clients that the dealer supplied, and so on.  A
slave has no rights, after all, and so the hot irons
and electric machines could be used to extract this
information now.  Whilst they could not directly
testify as slaves, teams of Agents began to round up
the other dealers, and the other customers, and
corroborative evidence was soon found in their files.
In turn these owners and dealers were tried and
enslaved, and then "persuaded" to give up the names of
even more dealers, suppliers and customers.

So many falsely enslaved were found as a result of all
of this that there was an abrupt rise in prices of all
slaves - probably a panic reaction, as it was probably
no more than one percent of the total numbers - and
this worked hugely to my advantage:  Stu, who it
turned out had pledged all his savings, and even
dipped into his retirement account to get the money to
buy Sam - made a huge profit when he almost
immediately sold him:  to me!

Yes, dear reader, I was now a rich man!  All old man
Walker's assets were forfeit, as a slave cannot of
course own anything, and under some obscure provision
of the legal code, they were to be divided up between
those injured by his actions.  As I have explained
though, I was the only one who was not now a slave, so
it all came to me (after the outrageous legal
expenses).

End Of Part Five