Date: Sun, 1 Jan 2012 05:50:49 -0800
From: Randall Austin <randallaustin2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mortal Servitude - Short Story

Mortal Servitude

By Randall Austin

Short Story

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be
read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my
stories without my permission and please forward all comments to
randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin's Archive Group:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

Layne Pedderson, not 100% certain of where he was,
slowly opened his eyes and looked about.  He was in a
jail cell; but in what city?  He thought he was in
Opportunity, Washington, but he really wasn't sure.
He had slept in his clothes.  They brought him in
after his arrest for drunken driving and put him in a
cell.

How would he explain this mess to his father?  How
would he manage the start of college in the fall?
Living in the foothills of the mountains, a car was a
necessity for commuting.  As Layne rubbed his head, he
thought, `what a fuckin hassle!'

Layne thought some more, `Maybe because it's my first
offense they'll go easy on me.  I have no police
record.  I'm almost an A student'.

Layne sat up on the cot and tried straightening his
shirt and hair.  He felt all rumpled, icky, and dirty.
Layne didn't like feeling rumpled and icky because he
was a neat boy.  He liked being neat, clean, and well
groomed.  His mother always seemed especially proud of
him when he was neatly dressed and groomed.

He saw a mirror above the sink in his cell, and as he
made his way to the mirror he wondered how he would
spin this story so his younger brother, Lars, wouldn't
think poorly of him.  Layne, 19, was esteemed by Lars,
15, and today he had promised his brother they would
spend the day together.

Layne turned on the warm water in the sink, let it
run, and looked in the mirror.  He didn't look as bad
as he felt.  Nor did his shirt.  When the water was
sufficiently hot he wet his hands, and ran the warm
water through his hair.  He reached in his back pocket
for his comb, but it was gone.  His pockets had been
emptied.

Layne did the best he could arranging his wet hair
with his fingers.  As he primped himself his usual
thought came to mind, `what a cool looker I am!'

A voice called, "Mr. Pedderson", followed by the
speaker, Sgt. Dennis Hilliard.  Outside the cell stood
a 40-year old police officer.  His dark uniform took
Layne momentarily by surprise, but he answered, "Yes
officer?"

"Glad to see you're awake.  We're leaving in about 15
minutes for the courthouse, so if you have any potty
business to do, you'd better do it now."

Layne looked at the freestanding toilet.  It didn't
have a seat attached, just the bare porcelain bowl.
"It doesn't have a toilet seat."

Officer Hilliard explained, "Removable parts are not
allowed in the cells.  You have to kind of squat over
the thing and do your stuff, or else you can just sort
of sit on the edge.  It's kind of cold when it first
touches your skin, but the regulars seemed to get used
to it."

Layne thanked the officer, and waited for him to
leave, since he had to use the pot, but the officer
stayed, and began to speak. "Drunk driving is a
serious matter in this state, I'm sure you know that
boy.  The best course of action is to be polite and
tell the truth to the judge.  Everything is on
videotape.  You were in pretty bad shape when Officer
Huntley picked you up.  He'll be at your sentencing."

"Sentencing?  How can I be sentenced without being
convicted of anything?"

"Mr. Pedderson, you convicted yourself by your actions
last night.  It's all on tape.  All that remains is
for the judge to rule on the classification of your
offense, and set the penalty."

Layne was suddenly frightened.  "I have to call my dad."
"He's already on his way son.  He's been notified and
he'll be at the court house when we get there."

"What city am I in, officer?"

"Coeur d'Alene."

Layne blurted, "Oh my gawd!"  He knew he shouldn't have
blurted out in front of the officer.  But how could he
have prevented it?  Idaho was a state ruled by cops
and judges, and dedicated to ridding its putative
Aryan pedigree of any and all lawlessness.

Layne tried to cover his outburst, "I had no idea I
was so far away from home."

Officer Hilliard twitched his nose, "Well, that's what
drinking will do to you.  Now you'd better do your
business so we can get a move on it."

Layne looked at the toilet, paused, and waited to see
if Hilliard would leave.  He didn't.  Layne made his
way to the pot, unzipped, tried to stand slightly to
the side to block the officer's view of his tackle,
took out his member and started peeing.  Once the
water hit the pot, Officer Hilliard left.

Layne was relieved.  Once he had finished peeing, he
quickly let down his slacks and undies, squatted over
the toilet, and did his business.  When he had
finished, he looked for the toilet paper, but there
was none.  He wondered if he should use the bedding.
He stood, pulled the front of his pants up to cover
his genitals, and called for Officer Hilliard.

"There's no toilet paper to wipe with."

Officer Hilliard pointed to a thick white cloth on a
shelf next to the sink.  "There's no wiping.  You take
that piece of cloth and stuff it in between your butt
cheeks, then pull your undies up tight over it to hold
it in place."

Layne curled his lips, "What?"

"They'll clean you up after sentencing."
Layne didn't like the sound of that, "Who'll clean me
up?"

"The processing boys.  Now hurry and get your pants
up.  We need to get going right now."

"But I'm all dirty."

"The pad is designed to hold it all in and cover any
odor.  Don't stall anymore.  If the judge finds out
you were not cooperating with me, it'll make things
worse for you than they already are."

Layne, deciding it was best not to make any trouble,
stuffed the cloth between his butt cheeks and pulled
up his undies and then his trousers, as Officer
Hilliard watched.  Layne winced in misery.  He could
not stand the feel of the cloth between his butt
cheeks.  Officer Hilliard opened the door to the cell
and ordered Layne out.

As Layne walked the dirty squishy feeling between his
legs created a most unbearable feeling.  Layne found
himself taking slower steps to avoid the unpleasant
squishy feeling.  Officer Hilliard didn't like it.
"Let's get a move on it.  No time to worry about being
Mr. Clean.  In fact you won't have to worry about
things like personal hygiene ever again.  From now on
other folks will be doing those things for you.
You've proven yourself incapable of controlling
yourself and taking care of your own best interests,
so now it's time for the state to step in and do those
things for you."

Layne let out a startled, "What!"

Officer Hilliard explained, "Social servants in this
state are well cared for.  They get everything done
for them.  You'll be bathed and oiled every morning
just like a little baby.  You'll be fed and watered.
You'll get potty trained all over again so that you do
your business each day on the state's schedule.  And
at night, if you didn't merit any strappings or
lock-downs throughout the day, when they secure you
down to your bed for the night you'll be given a
special servant pacifier to suck on.  It will help you
sleep.  It was designed especially for well-behaving
social servants."

A sinking feeling hit Layne, and he was unable to
react to Officer Hilliard's words.  After a few more
steps, Officer Hilliard stopped Layne and cuffed his
hands together behind his back.  Tears came to Layne's
eyes as he was cuffed.  Layne was surprised when
Officer Hilliard took a tissue and wiped his tears.

As Officer Hilliard wiped Layne's face, he spoke in a
comforting voice, "I'm not cuffing you because I think
you're going to try and make a break for it.  I know
you won't.  You seem like a nice boy.  It's such a
shame to see boys like you end up like this.  I'm
cuffing you because it's Idaho State standard
procedure, and there can be no deviation from the
standard under any conditions.  The letter of the law
has to be followed in every situation, as it will be
in your sentencing."
The drive to the courthouse didn't take long, and once
Officer Hilliard and Layne had gone through all the
courthouse entry checkpoints, Layne was considerably
relieved.  All the people he had met were pleasant and
cordial, and not at all like the stolid yahoo hicks he
had imagined every resident of Idaho to be.

Officer Hilliard led Layne into the almost empty
courtroom, and to a seat in front of the judge's
bench.  He then walked over to Layne's father, "You're
Mr. Olaf Pedderson?"

"I am officer."  Mr. Pedderson, looking worn, stood
and shook Officer Hilliard's hand, and introduced him
to his youngest son, Lars.

Officer Hilliard smiled big and eagerly shook the hand
of Layne's brother.  He then asked Mr. Pedderson, "Did
you have a word with the bailiff?"

"Yes, officer.  He told me the procedure."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Pedderson."

Layne, watching his father and the officer chat, but
not able to hear them, was surprised to see Officer
Hilliard place a hand on his father's shoulder, as if
offering condolences.

Layne tried to make eye contact with his younger
brother, but Lars seemed to be having a hard time
looking in his direction.

As Officer Hilliard invited Mr. Pedderson and his son
to take a seat, a young man of 35 years, dressed in a
suit and tie, entered the courtroom.  He had with him
his 12-year old daughter.  As the man and his daughter
took a seat on the bench in back of Layne, he looked
Layne over with great interest.

The man's daughter tugged on his suit jacket and asked
of Layne, sitting in the row ahead of them, "Is that
our new servant, Daddy?"

The man whispered, "Yes, honey, I believe it is."

The daughter whispered back, "Why is he dressed in his
street clothes, Daddy?"

The man whispered, "Every state does things
differently, honey.  They each have their own rules on
servant decorum and procedures.  And I don't know
about Idaho, honey.  I don't know a thing about this
state."

In the ensuing moments about 10 people took seats in
various parts of the courtroom.  Three officers from
the Social Services Authority entered and stood off to
the side of the courtroom.

The last people to enter the courtroom, before the
bailiff closed the doors, were three young men wearing
service jumpsuits that had the words, "Harvard
Training Services" emblazoned on them.  They took
seats directly in back of the man with the daughter,
who looked at them and nodded.

No sooner had Officer Hilliard taken a seat next to
Layne, when the bailiff announced, "All rise for Judge
Anthony Baylor."  All rose.  Judge Baylor was
dignified and fatherly looking; Layne found some
relief in that.

The Judge spoke, "Layne Rolf Pedderson; drunk driving
is a serious crime, and if society were to be lenient
with those convicted of such an offense, it would be
remiss.  We shall now watch a replay of your
conviction on tape."

The bailiff pushed some buttons, a large television
screen, located to the left of the Judge's bench, went
on, and soon a video came on.  The first scene was a
shot of Layne's car, taken from the police car
following it, showing the car weaving perilously in
and out of its lane.

The video only got worse from there.  At first the car
tried to make a getaway.  Only after the car did a
wild skid that almost flipped it did it come to a
halt.

Next on the video, Officer Huntley, now seated in the
rear of the courtroom, could be heard ordering the
suspect out of the car.  Layne's car door did not
open; instead all that could be heard was the voice of
Layne shouting, "Fuck you, you gawdamn pig!"

When Officer Huntley finally succeeded in pulling
Layne out of the car, he could hardly stand.  He
tumbled from side to side, and as Officer Huntley told
him he was under arrest Layne seemed to be dazed and
unaware of what was happening.

At first Layne was embarrassed watching the video.  By
the end of the video he was deeply ashamed, and put
his head down.  When the video was turned off in the
quiet courtroom, Layne could hear his father weeping
from across the other side of the courtroom.

Judge Baylor ordered Layne to stand.  He did, but kept
his head down.  His face was red with shame.
The judge spoke in a calm and even voice. "Layne Rolf
Pedderson, you are guilty of driving under the
influence of alcohol.  In the state of Idaho, DUI
arrests trigger two separate cases.  The first case is
this criminal hearing, where the convicted face
indenturement, fines, mandatory alcohol education
classes, and corporal punishment.  However, those who
are caught drinking and driving in Idaho also face
consequences from the Idaho Transportation
Department."

"For the criminal case, the law of Idaho allows for
some leniency for a first offense.  Therefore I am
sentencing you to the minimum penalty for a first
offense: four years hard labor indenturement; a $5000
fine; and a public reformatory strapping on the bare
buttocks."

There was dead silence in the court.  All that Layne
heard was himself swallowing in disbelief.  The judge
continued, "When you have completed your term of
indentured service, and have satisfied all the
requirements of your sentence, you shall then be
remanded to the Corrections Bureau of the Idaho
Transportation Department, where you shall be taken to
the Kootenai County House of Punishment.  There you
shall be hobbled and secured in a reformatory cell,
and be subjected to a regimen of strict rehabilitative
and punitive discipline for a period of 10 months.
The House of Punishment shall allow you to find your
dignity, as you: make amends; atone for wrongdoings;
rectify your shortcomings; offer society restitution;
find your voice of reconciliation; reestablish your
moral balance; kiss the face of justice; make
recompense to the state; recognize legitimate
authority; learn honesty; value freedom; and find once
again not only the path of rectitude, but learn to
walk that path with pride and honesty within the full
breadth of the law."

There was pause in the judge's sentencing when Mr.
Pedderson began sobbing again.  Once he calmed down,
the judge continued. "Once the requirements of both
your servitorship and your punishment reform program
have been fulfilled, you will then be evaluated by a
Kootenai County Servant Authority psychiatric team.
If the team deems you fit and able to resume your
position as a productive member of society, you shall
then, under the auspices of the County Servant
Authority Medical Services, have your two rear molars
remove to indicate that you fulfilled the requirements
of the Corrections Bureau of the Idaho Transportation
Department; have your foreskin surgically bisected and
flanged to permanently mark you as a freed servant;
have emplaced in your scrotum a GPS tracking chip;
and, once the marking and tracking procedures are
completed, you shall then be released back into
society as a cognizant and reliable non-servitor."

Mr. Olaf Pedderson broke down again, this time in
convulsive sobbing.  Layne couldn't believe any of what
he had just heard.  And still Judge Baylor continued.
"Layne Rolf Pedderson, in a few moments you
shall be bared and trussed and receive your first
punishment as a social servant.  When the strap hits
your flesh for the first time, I want you to greet it
and pay attention to everything that it makes you
feel.  For it is your new teacher.  And so it must be,
since you have rejected your first teachers; wisdom
and common sense.  Since you have so wantonly
abandoned your mentors who have guided you up until
this point, you must now be given a new mentor; pain.
Accept it and be grateful."

"For you, Layne Rolf Pedderson, shall be remade.  You
shall be cast in a new mold, and formed into probity
through mortal servitude.  All the days of your
sentence shall henceforth be days of service.  Service
that will not only benefit your owner for the short
term; benefit you in the long run; but benefit all of
society for all of time.  Layne Rolf Pedderson, I
hereby send you forth to be remade."

The judge banged his gavel and ordered Layne Pedderson
to step forward.  He then called for the Social
Servant Authority detail to come forward.  The three
officers, who had been standing at the side of the
courtroom, came forward, and the judge ordered them to
prepare Layne for his strapping.  One of the officers'
uncuffed Layne's hands and instructed Layne to remove
his shirt and under shirt, as another officer removed
a large prison strap from a carrying case.

When Layne was standing bare-chested in front of the
courtroom, one of the officers fitted a pair of
blinkers around his head.  The blinkers made it
impossible for Layne to see anything but straight
ahead.  He felt suddenly horrible, knowing how goofy
he must look to everyone, especially to his younger
brother.  There he was bare-chested and blinkered, and
about to be strapped in front of everyone.  He felt
like a horse.

An officer guided Layne to stand in front of a wooden
and steel frame, and told him to grab a hold of the
frame's sides.  When he did so, Layne realized that he
was standing in front of a pillory, a thing designed
for him to hold onto as he got his ass strapped.  His
butt was now sticking way out for everyone to see, and
he felt humiliated and ridiculous.
And he felt even more shame when an officer reached
around and unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and
tugged them down.  Everyone could see the bulge in
Layne's underwear which held his diaper pad in place.
The officer put on plastic gloves, and then pulled
Layne's undies down, along with the diaper pad.
People could see the shit stains on the pad.  The
officer pulled his undies all the way down, bunching
Layne's trousers and undies at his feet.

Another officer locked Layne's wrists to the pillory.
The man with the daughter, who had been sitting in
back of Layne, strained his head to try and get a view
of his new slave's tackle, but from where he was
seated Layne's equipment was out of view.  He didn't
really care.

The officer with the strap took his place in back of
Layne and began strapping his ass without ceremony.
After the fourth blow Layne was crying out loudly.
After the eighth blow Layne was squealing.  After the
15th blow Layne was twitching his ass every which way
to avoid the strap, including twisting to the side.
After the 20th blow Layne was calling out to the judge
to please stop the strapping.

Serious red markings on Layne's ass were visible to
all, and as the strap fell on oft-strapped flesh,
Layne's squealing pitch rose.  By the 25th blow Layne
was jumping and twisting so seriously that some
observers wondered if the pillory would tip over.

With each blow Layne would turn his body almost
completely around so his torso was facing the
spectators.  Layne no longer cared who saw his private
parts; he just wanted to protect his behind from the
stinging, burning, strap.  Each time that Layne
twisted his torso, the officer doing the strapping
waited for Layne to turn himself back around so he
could resume his strapping.  He let Layne take his
time.

Layne's new owner, and his daughter, by this time had
seen plenty of Layne's tackle, and were pleased with
what they saw.  The man, Mr. Brompton, although
heterosexual, especially liked ordering male slaves
around who had big cocks.  And the daughter, too,
enjoyed having plump cocked slave boys working around
the house.

When the officer delivered the 33rd blow, he stopped
and put the prison strap back in its case.  Layne was
still howling long after the last blow had landed.

While Layne hung on the pillory twitching, turning,
and burning, the judge called out, "Bailiff, would you
please escort Mr. Darrell Brompton to the bench."

The man with the daughter whispered in his daughter's
ear, stood, and went with the bailiff up to the
judge's bench.  His daughter remained seated.

The judge spoke to the man in the suit, "Mr. Brompton,
this is Layne Rolf Pedderson secured to the pillory.
While the pictures that were taken of him last night
in the jailhouse and put up on the web were not very
flattering, you did indicate an interest in purchasing
him.  Now that you've checked him out a little, are
you still interested?"

Mr. Brompton smiled and nodded, "I am, your Honor."

The judge asked, "Do you want to check him out some
more before finalizing?"

"No, your Honor.  The court faxed me Mr. Pedderson's
medical records, and based on the record and what I
can now see, I'm quite satisfied that all is in
order."

The judge asked, "You've indicated that you wanted
Harvard Training Services of Coeur d'Alene to handle
the servant's initial prepping, docking, and ID
installation; do you still wish to employ their
services?"

When Mr. Brompton indicated that he did, the judge
called for the three jumpsuited technicians from
Harvard Training Services to approach the bench.  The
three young men were full of energy, and eagerly
approached the bench.

The judge spoke to the technicians, "Gentleman, this
is Mr. Darrell Brompton, and the freshly indentured
boy on the pillory is his new servant, Layne Rolf Pedderson."
Mr. Brompton thought the natural course was to shake
hands, so he shook the hands of the three young men
from Harvard Training Services.  Everyone was smiling
broadly around the judge's bench except Layne.

The Judge handed some documents to Mr. Brompton, and
explained, "Mr. Brompton, once you sign the papers and
make payment, the technicians can take Layne
downstairs to the courthouse's processing facilities
and perform not only the basic processing procedures,
but any special or customized requests that you may
have."

Before Mr. Brompton perused the judge's papers he
looked at Layne and nodded, "Okay.  Thank you."  After
a pause, he added, "Standing near to him now, I can
smell him.  He stinks."

Officer Hilliard responded, "He's been wearing a
diaper pad, sir."

Mr. Brompton laughed, as he looked over the documents,
"I see."

One of the technicians spoke reassuringly, "Don't you
worry sir.  We'll clean up his tushie real good
and have him smelling like a daisy."

The judge frowned at the technician, and Mr. Brompton
smiled as he signed the documents.  When he handed the
signed documents and a check to the judge, the judge
looked at his signatures, wished him luck, gave his
bailiff final executive orders, and exited.

Layne's father slowly approached the men remaining
around the bench, followed by his youngest son, Lars.
He caught Officer Hilliard's attention, and by gesture
wondered if he might approach his son.  Officer
Hilliard said out loud, "Of course, please come
forward."

Officer Hilliard asked Mr. Brompton if his new servant
could meet with his father, and Mr. Brompton answered,
"Yes, Certainly."

When Mr. Pedderson approached Layne, one of the Social
Service detail officers freed Layne's hands from the
pillory.  Layne could only look at the floor.  Mr.
Pedderson touched his son on the back.  Layne turned
and faced his father, and started crying
uncontrollably, "I'm sorry Dad."

As Mr. Pedderson hugged his flesh-bared and blinkered
son, nothing more was said.  Layne was still too
grieved and shocked to give much thought to his
exposed and blinkered appearance.  The three
jumpsuited technicians, and all the remaining
spectators in the courtroom, looked at Layne and his
father with some pity.  After allowing a long hug,
Officer Hilliard spoke, "Mr. Pedderson, the bailiff
can supply you with the latest copy of the state's
visitation guidelines.  Only two visits are allowed
during the first year of indenturement, but after that
visitation rights are more frequent and flexible."

The bailiff went to a documents shelf, grabbed some
pamphlets pertaining to servant/family relationships,
and handed them to Mr. Pedderson, who, when handed
them to Mr. Pedderson, appeared as if he would break
down and start sobbing again.

Layne bent down to pull up his trousers, but one of
the detail officers stopped him, "Don't pull them up.
Instead, step out of your clothes now, because we are
going to be taking you down to get you fixed."

Layne stepped out of his bunched up clothes, and
removed his shoes and socks, keeping his backside to
his young brother.  When he was finished, he stood
keeping his backside facing the court spectators, many
of whom were still in their seats, wanting to see
everything that happens to newly indentured boys.
Layne cupped his hands over his genitals.

Young Lars felt sorry for his brother, who now stood
naked in public, except for a pair of blinkers.

The bailiff glanced at the boys from Harvard Training
Services and pointed a finger at Layne.  The
processing boys knew it meant that it was time to
fetch Layne and take him down to the processing
facility.

The bailiff spoke, "Mr. Brompton, the processors are
about to take Layne down to the facilities and do the
basics.  Is there any fine tuning you want done on
him?"

One of the technicians handed Mr. Brompton a
photocopied checklist of available procedures.

Mr. Brompton scanned the checklist, "Thanks a lot for
this checklist.  I have been so rushed this morning I
haven't had time to think about this stuff.  I suppose
I should get him snazzed up immediately so everything
is taken care of."

One of the technicians responded, "Of course.
Remember, Mr. Brompton, you want a servant you can be
proud to show off, even if he is just a couple of
hours old."

Mr. Brompton nodded, "You are absolutely correct."  As
Mr. Brompton looked over the checklist he rubbed his
chin and hemmed and hawed as if he were ordering
toppings for a pizza, "I think I'll have one of these
package deals.  It's cheaper, right, if I select one
of these packages rather than going à la carte on the
body modification procedures?"

One of the Harvard Training Services boys beamed,
"Absolutely sir.  You save as much as 20% with a
package."

Layne felt as he had never felt before; useless and
pitiable.  He wanted to flee into his father's arms
for refuge, but doubted if his father still even cared
for him.  His thoughts of self-abasement were
interrupted by the voice of Mr. Brompton. "Okay, this
"Flemish Deluxe" package looks good to me."

Another well-groomed Harvard Training Services boy
responded. "That's a very popular package, sir.  It
starts off with a full-body scrub down, including the
mouth and rectum.  It's followed by a round robin of
anal rinses.  It includes the emplacement of a full
complement of control rings to allow for complete and
total body tethering of the servant."

"It includes a full blemish treatment, which will
nicely remove those teen zits that your new boy has on
his neck and back."
As Mr. Brompton nodded approvingly, the processing boy
continued, "It's followed by a complete nail
treatment: trimming, cleaning, and polishing.  And the
highlight of the package is the body coloring capped
with areola and glans highlighting."

Referring to the checklist, Mr. Brompton asked, "What
exactly is an "areola and glans highlighting?"

A technician answered, "We brush and treat the area
around his nipples and the cock head with a special
product that colors them and highlights them.
Depending on what color you have your boy dyed, the
areolas and glans are colored accordingly to make them
stand out.  So if you were to have your boy dyed a
dark brown, the areolas and cock tip would be colored
a sharp mauve hue.  If you choose to have a lighter
skin shade, then we dye his cock tip and areolas a
deep red."

The technician continued, "And the package includes
some special highlights that are both decorative and
practical.  We do a deep piercing of the navel or
belly button.  The navel guide ring is catching on as
a great control device for servants.  In the past
folks tended to think of navel piercings as purely
decorative, and so only tiny rings were used.  But in
fact, the navel can support serious sized control
rings.  We're doing a lot of business these days
emplacing servants with giant belly button rings that
can be used as tether and control points.  And the
large four-inch diameter ring that we use is very
attractive, as well."

Mr. Brompton nodded, "Sounds very nice, indeed."

Another technician spoke, "And it isn't noted, but all
package specials include a full body shaving, oiling,
and clover scenting; and on male slaves the cock and
balls are fitted with wide gauge rings that hold
everything up and forward."

"When we deliver your boy to you he'll be totally
cleaned, inside and out; he'll be a lovely brown
color, with his tits and cock tip nicely highlighted,
and his lips painted to match; he'll be fully
body-ringed; his cock and balls will be thrust proudly
up and forward; and he'll be fitted with an anal
pacifier rod.  The anal plug will have a foot long
control handle sticking out of his butt hole for ease
in guiding him around.  You won't recognize him when
you see him all shaved, squeaky clean, and super
oiled.  He'll be looking as shiny, sleek, and bald, as
a lubed-up, cum-leaking, wagging, cock."

All the technicians, the detail officers, and Mr.
Brompton, laughed heartily at the lusty humor of the
processing boy.

Mr. Brompton called out to his daughter, "Is there anything
special you want to have done to him, honey?"

The little girl smiled, "Can we have flank rings put
on him, Daddy?"

Mr. Brompton at first hesitated, but then responded,
"Those take a long time to heal, but if you want them,
sweetie, I'll have him flank-ringed."

Mr. Brompton looked at the processing boys, "All of
her friends' slaves have flank rings, and she's always
wanted our boys to be similarly ringed."

One of the processing boys commented, "They are nice
looking, and they provide another convenient control
point.  But you are right Mr. Brompton; they take some
time to heal.  Don't use his flank rings for tethering
until at least after two months."

Mr. Brompton nodded, and then looked at his watch, "How
long is this all going to take?"

The well-scrubbed technician answered, "We should have
him all ready and in the pickup area in about two and
a half hours."

Officer Hilliard spoke to Mr. Pedderson, "Sir, if you
would like, once the processing team has finished
getting your son kitted and polished, and before he is
removed from the premises, you can have 10 minutes
visitation time with him."

As Mr. Pedderson asked Officer Hilliard for
instructions on where he could visit with his son once
he was processed.
One of the processing boys went up to Layne and
manipulated his cock with both hands to
get his pubic hairs away from the shaft.  Once his
penis was free of snagging hairs, he grasped Layne's
foreskin, pulled it forward, and began tugging him
along by his foreskin.  Layne took stumbling steps as
he was led away by one of the processing boys.  The
other two processing boys followed as Layne was led
out a door that said "Elevators to Induct and Ground
Complex."

Lars, watching his naked and blinkered brother be led
away by his foreskin, wondered if any one who had been
through what Layne had just been through could ever
return to normal.

**

As Mr. Pedderson drove his young son, Lars, back to
Washington State, he realized it had been a mistake to
wait and visit with his oldest son after he had been
processed.  A big mistake.  Lars was still in tears.

In the courthouse, Lars had managed to watch his
brother Layne get stripped, blinkered, and severely
strapped, without losing control.  Mr. Pedderson had
thought that it would be impossible for Lars to see
his older brother be humiliated any further.

But when Layne was led into the visitation room after
his processing, to meet his father and brother, Lars
recoiled at what he saw.  And if it was hard on both
Lars and his father to see Layne looking so exposed
and modified, it was doubly hard on Layne being so
exposed to his family.

Layne was dressed in only green slave shorts and
sandals, and was fitted with a larger but more
decorative set of blinkers than the ones he wore in
the courthouse.  But his shorts had openings in the front and
back, so his heavily ringed cock and balls were thrust
forward and up.  And out of his butt stuck a foot long
handle end of his butt plug by which he was steered
and led into the visitation room by a Service
Authority officer.  With both of his wrists cuffed to
sides of his shorts, Lane was unable to use his hands
to cover his bobbing, newly colored, genitals.

His entire body was dyed a deep tan, looking much like
an artificial suntan.  And his nipples and cock tip,
so totally exposed, were dyed a lascivious, deep,
shade of red which drew everyone's eyes to them.  And
to match his nipples and cock tip, the processing boys
had painted his lips with a matching shade of red
lipstick.  Dangling from the end of his cock was a
large diameter and thick gauge cock ring that went
through his cock head.

And he was pierced, all over.  In considerable
discomfort from all of the recent body piercings,
Layne had a pained, hopeless, look on his face.  The
two large flank rings, on either side of Layne, just
above his hips, looked especially painful.

Mr. Pedderson and Lars had less than ten minutes alone
with Layne when Mr. Brompton and his daughter were led
in to take possession of Layne.

The Brampton's stared in delight at the bald, shaved,
ringed, dyed, oiled, and glistening, body of their new
servant.  The little girl immediately went up to Layne
and looked at his flank rings, "Wow, they're neat
Daddy".  Her father beamed as she took hold of Layne's
butt plug handle and guided Layne to stand next to her
and her father.  She kept her hand on Layne's butt
handle once she had him positioned where she wanted
him.  Layne could only keep his blinkered head down in
shame as the little girl took in the sight of her
family's new server boy, and smiled at her new
servant's jutting, oiled, ringed, two-toned, cock.

Mr. Brompton smiled at Mr. Pedderson, "Your son has
sure made my daughter one happy little girl."
When there was no response from Mr. Pedderson, Mr.
Brompton began to tell his daughter of her new
responsibilities.  "Now remember, honey, your mother
and I are giving you considerable responsibility in
the care and upkeep of Layne."

"I know, Daddy."

"With a servant, you can't go getting tired of caring
for him and neglecting him, the way you did with your
dog Porter when he was just a puppy."

"Oh, Daddy, I know that!"
"Your mother hates servants who are not well groomed,
and you will be responsible for making sure he's
squeaky clean and nice smelling each morning.  Do you
think you can do that, honey?"

The little girl was thrilled with her new
responsibilities, "Oh yes Daddy!"

Layne's body was so strange looking that even his
father wondered if he should give his son a farewell
embrace; would it hurt him with all of his piercings
to be embraced?  Would his dye job be smirched?  Would
all of that body oil rub off on his suit?  But the
concerns faded quickly and Mr. Pedderson gave his son
a long and very tight hug.

And when Mr. Pedderson was finished, Lars also gave
his brother a long and tight hug.  But once Lars
hugged his older brother, he began to cry.  And his
crying did not stop, even once Layne was taken away by
the Brompton's, and the Pedderson's began their drive
home, back to Washington State.

In the car Mr. Pedderson placed a hand on his weeping
son's leg to comfort him.  Lars reacted, "Dad, I know
why the judge called it "mortal servitude".  Layne is
never going to be the same Dad.  The Layne we knew
can never come back."

"Son, you stop talking like that.  Layne will be back
with us in less than five years.  And I am going to
start counting the days until his return."

Lars continued speaking though his sobbing, "No one
can go through what Layne has been through today and not be
changed.  He's already different.  The Layne I knew is
gone, Dad.  Gone!"

Lars broke down completely and put his head in his
hands.  Mr. Pedderson pulled his car off to the side
of the road and stopped.  He hugged his son.  Father
and son, on the roadside, wept together.  They had met
servitude up close.  And they both knew, despite what
the father had said in trying to offer comfort, that
servitude is, indeed, mortal.  The changes it brings
are profound, impact a lifetime, and are forever
irreversible.

The End