Date: Wed, 31 May 2006 22:10:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: The Fate of a Poor Man's Son, part 4

I was turned on to this universe by the writing of Pete Brown UK. Heated up
by some stories from Steam Train. These two authors directed me to the
works of Richard Davies, One Ring, Total Reform and others. This story is
set in a near-future world in which enslavement is the norm. This story
involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between males - as
well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for this
genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age is
where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this
story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to
read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better
if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are
someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get
some help.

_________________________________________________________________
By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo.com)


The captain kept his word. Even though I'd been enslaved on June 1st, he
was letting me finish up the last two weeks of high school so I could
graduate. But I was living in a cage, made to jog to school, and only
allowed to wear a pair of skimpy white briefs and cloth sneakers.


My first day at school was filled with humiliation. My second day began
with one bit of good news. It seems my history teacher, Mr. Drape, who was
known to stand up for slave's rights, had protested to the principal about
the fact that I was made to stand in each of my classes. The principal had
acquiesced. He could not condone me sitting in a chair alongside free
people, but he agreed I could sit on the floor near the back of each
classroom. It was one more humiliation, but at least my legs didn't ache.


At lunchtime I returned to the slave shed near the back of the school
grounds. Only Noggy and Rolo were there, the third slave off on some
assignment. Noggy actually had a real conversation with me while I ate my
slave chow by hand. He asked me about myself and about my terms of
enslavement. I found out that he had once had a family with two sons older
than I was. He was enslaved when he stole a car and drove drunk, injuring
another driver. "It was two broken fingers the other driver had. But the
law's the law. I was enslaved for life."


Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Rolo got on his
knees, pulled out the older slave's cock, and began sucking it. I turned to
face the other direction, pretending there was something interesting on the
gray wall. I cleared my throat and said, "I'm not gay."


Rolo lifted his head from his efforts and said, "Do you think I'm gay,
buddy? Hell, I fought hard when the slave trainer tried to get me to learn
how to suck. But, they have ways." He was about to turn back to the thick
cock in front of him but added, "And it's not like they give slaves a
chance to fuck pussy - unless they use you for breeding."


As Noggy's cock slipped once more into the younger slave's mouth, he
grinned and said, "Back when I was married and a dad I used to beat up
homos. When I became a slave and they tried to get me to take cock down my
throat and up my ass I put up such a fight they flogged the skin off my
back three times over." I had seen how rough his back looked and I now
understood why.


Noggy leaned down and whispered something to Rolo. The younger slave
grinned up at me and licked his lips. He asked, "You ever have that dick of
yours in a nice warm mouth, boy?"


That question sent a surge through me. I blushed and stammered. The two
other slaves moved to where I was standing. Rolo paid no attention to my
half-hearted protests as he peeled my briefs down to my knees and sank his
mouth all the way onto my hard penis. Noggy took my hand and clasped it
around his stiff rod. He had his hand over mine as he moved it up and down
the length of his erection.


The older slave met my eyes as he asked, "Haven't you ever jerked off a
buddy?" I shook my head in the negative. I wanted to tell him this was the
first cock I'd ever touched aside from my own, but I couldn't find the
words. Since I'd started high school I had seen this powerfully built,
blunt-faced slave working around the building and never gave him a second
thought. Now here I was masturbating him as the younger slave gave me my
first blowjob.


Noggy's rough fingers were moving all over my smooth slim body. He was
breathing hard as he grumbled, "Such nice soft hands you got, kid. Just
like I'm being jacked off by a free boy. Hell, I'd lose my balls if I ever
got a free boy into this shed stripped down and giving me a handjob like
you're doing, Wally. Hell, I've seen you around school, boy. I've beat my
meat thinking about you and all your pals on the track team, and what you'd
look like stripped down. And now I finally have you..."


With that my cock started spewing in Rolo's throat and Noggy's cock started
shooting all over my fingers. Some of his spunk landed on my chest, my
belly and my thighs. Even as his thick white cream landed on me, the door
of the shed opened. My eyes went wide as I realized Coach Baker was
standing there looking at us. The man who was the head of the athletic
program at our school and who had been my coach on the track team was now
taking in the whole scene.


My face was flushed red as the coach turned and left without saying a word.


The rest of the day I was filled with worry over what Coach Baker would do
or say about the scene he had observed. But of course I was distracted by
the many little indignities that I was already learning to expect as a
slave. At one point I was standing at my locker trying to get the
combination open so I could store a book I wouldn't need till the next day
(I would later learn that the locker combination had been changed and all
the contents sent to my father, since slaves couldn't own anything). A
bunch of freshmen boys came up behind me and pulled down the thin white
briefs. I dropped all my books as I struggled to regain my one article of
clothing. But the boys tripped me so I ended up sprawled on my
belly. Fingers traced the red marks left from the paddling the night
before. I wanted to shout at them to fuck off, but I'd learned the previous
day what would happen if I was disrespectful to free boys.


Soon enough, Mr. Duffy, the health education teacher, shouted for the boys
to get to class. I struggled to stand but before I could pull my shorts
back into place I felt Mr. Duffy's fingers caressing my exposed ass
cheeks. I shuddered. Everyone knew that Mr. Duffy was gay - he was very
open and he talked about it in class. So now I had an acknowledged
homosexual tenderly caressing my bare ass. He told me to report to his
classroom.


When I got to Mr. Duffy's classroom there were 30 boys for his freshmen
health education class. In the back row I noticed my younger brother,
Will. The teacher ordered me to turn my back to the class and bend over the
front counter in the room. My briefs were instantly pushed all the way down
my legs. This elicited chuckles from the boys in the room. I remembered the
textbook for the class and remembered the delight Mr. Duffy had taken when
I was a freshman showing us pictures of the results of paddling, caning, or
whipping a slave's ass. Now he had a live model - me! He ordered the class
to line up so they could each run their hands over the marks on my exposed
ass.


As they filed past and got their feels, some of them slapped my bottom
cheeks. A few even tried to push a finger into my anus. Instead of
reprimanding his students for their behavior, Mr. Duffy warned the boys,
"You don't want to do that unless you know the slave has been cleaned
properly inside." I suddenly remembered him making that same statement when
I was in his class four years earlier, but the words hadn't meant anything
to me back then.


I kept my head down. I purposely didn't want to know which boy was doing
what. But then I heard the softest whisper, "Wally, I'm so sorry man." I
glanced to the side and saw my younger brother Will moving away as the next
boy took his place. It was a small gesture. It didn't mean a thing. He had
said it so softly that none of his classmates could hear him. He probably
wasn't even certain I had heard him. But those five words meant the world
to me.


My briefs back in place, Mr. Duffy walked me to the door of the room. He
pressed his fingers into the crack of my ass and whispered, "If I owned
you, boy, me and my partner would be up this ass every single night." I
simply said, "Yes, sir," as I'd been taught. At least he gave me to a note
to bring to my teacher for the class time I had missed.


I had been five minutes late to school that morning. Being able to sit on
the floor during classes meant my legs weren't as strained as the previous
day when I'd had to stand. I made it back to the captain's house in just
the right amount of time. So my punishment for that night would only be
five swats of the paddle. I don't know whether it's the fact that my skin
had been toughened by the previous day's twelve swats or whether it was
psychological, but the paddle didn't seem to hurt as much this second
night. I suppose I had also gotten used to sleeping in the cage. I finished
handwriting my history final paper and then curled up on the sleeping mat
and finally had a good night's sleep.


The following morning I got to school on time. The day started with history
class and Mr. Drape brought me to the front of the room to talk about
slavery. Eddie, the football quarterback, announced that his father said
free men never had to listen to slaves and that slaves had no right to ever
address a group of free men. Mr. Drape tried to explain his theory of
education and what we could learn by listening to each other, but Eddie
objected and simply left the room. Not ten minutes later Eddie returned
with the principal, who sided with the quarterback and told Mr. Drape in no
uncertain terms that a slave was not to be heard speaking in the classroom,
not even to answer a question. Of course he never made any specific
reference to me, even though I was the only slave in the room.


I received a note right before lunch instructing me to get slave chow from
the shed out back and then to report immediately to Coach Baker's office in
the gym - he had requested that I help him in the storage room. I breathed
a sigh of relief. I figured this meant the coach wasn't going to get me in
trouble for the scene he'd walked in on the previous day with me and the
two maintenance slaves. He had always shown he cared about me as a student
and as a person. I figured he just wanted to get me away from their bad
influence.


The coach had been my mentor throughout high school. A lot of students
considered Coach Baker mean or were scared or intimidated by him. But he
was the closest I had to a friend on the faculty. When my mother had been
ill and then died, the coach was supportive and generous, often staying to
talk to me after school. Back when I was a freshman he said I had great
potential and he had worked me hard to realize that potential. I had led
our track team to become county champs and we had placed impressively in
state competition. I looked forward to seeing the coach at lunchtime.


He instructed me to eat my slave chow standing in his office as he ignored
me and finished up some paperwork. Then he directed me to the equipment
storage closet. I figured we would have one of our man-to-man talks like
we'd often had before. But he locked the door, then leaned back against a
shelf of mats and just looked at me. I suddenly felt awkward standing there
in only the skimpy briefs. When I started to move he commanded, "Remain at
slave rest position, boy." He had never used that tone in speaking to me
before.


I bowed my head, clasped my hands behind my back, and positioned my feet
spread apart. He started feeling my muscles, pressing his fingers into my
pecs, then my biceps, then into my thighs. "You haven't been at an auction,
boy, have you? So you haven't had crowds of men examining you?"


"No, sir," I quickly snapped. I hadn't intended to address him that way. I
was counting on calling him "Coach" like I always had. But there was
something about his manner. This was not going to be a man-to-man
chat. Coach Baker was treating me like the slave I was.


"You've been a slave less than a week and you're already sucking slave
cock, boy?"


"N-no, sir, never."


"What did I see going on in that shed yesterday at lunch, boy?" Why was the
coach spitting the word "boy" at me with such venom.


"C-coach, they came up to me and offered oral... well, I had never before
had a mouth..." My face was flushed deep red.


"And that's why you were playing with the penis of that rough nasty-looking
old slave, Noggy? Are you sexually aroused by Noggy's penis, boy?"


"No, coach, no way. You know me coach. I'm not like that..."


I had broken the slave rest pose to take a step closer to him and the coach
was not going to stand for that. His face was inches from me as he lectured
me loudly about calling him "sir" and about maintaining proper slave
decorum. "You know that a slave must tell the truth to a free man. You know
you would be punished severely for lying to me, don't you, boy?"


"Y-yes, sir."


"Have you ever had a penis in your mouth, boy? Have you ever had one in
your ass?"


"No, sir. Never anything like that, sir."


"At your new household, where you're serving as a slave - you haven't yet
been used for sex, boy?"


I shook my head vigorously. "No, sir!" I wanted to go on to tell Coach
Baker about the guard at the courthouse who wanted to rape my bottom, but
who stopped when he found out I belonged to Captain Winston. But Coach
Baker never gave me a chance. I was starting to think that, in spite of his
tone of voice, the coach still cared about me - he was concerned about what
had been done to me.


But just as I was having warm feelings once more for this man, he started
to push down his sweatpants and then his jockstrap. His cock was thick and
hairy and already semi-erect. I looked from his cock up to his face, not
sure what he wanted.


"You used your hand on that ugly old slave yesterday. The least I could
expect from you is a nice slow handjob, slave."


"Y-yes, sir," I answered obediently. I reached out my hand and began
stroking his cock. He pushed up his shirt and told me to use my other hand
to rub and pull on his nipples. While I did this he started feeling me up
with both his hands, tugging my nipples and squeezing my balls roughly. It
seemed as if he wanted to test just how tough I was, or else that he wanted
to hurt me.


He looked quite serious as he said, "I'm not gay, you know. Doing things
with a slaveboy isn't the same as doing things with free men." He closed
his eyes and then moaned, "If the captain gave me permission I would fuck
your ass so damn hard and long you'd never forget I'd been up there."


What could I say? "Yes, sir." I'd been at the school for four years and
never imagined there were so many men looking at my ass with such
interest. Or was it only because I was a slave that men were thinking about
using me for sex?


The coach made a sudden grab for my hand and then his cock started shooting
jizz that landed on my chest, on my belly, and on my white briefs. As he
turned away from me, he gave me one paper towel to wipe myself.


The rest of the day I was in a daze, which hardly mattered because suddenly
- in classes where I had been a star pupil - I was invisible to all my
teachers. I figured the edict must have gone out from Mr. Tucci about not
allowing a slave to answer any questions in class.


The good news was that I made good time arriving back at the house. The bad
news was that the captain's older son, Brad, had returned home from college
that very day.