Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2011 04:37:47 -0500
From: Jase Jason <jase-jason@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Life So Far  -  Part One  (Gay Male - Authoritarian)

MY LIFE SO FAR

This is a work of fiction.

If you are underage, object to gay erotic fiction, or it's illegal where
you are, please leave now.

This work is copyright and remains the intellectual property of the
author. Any reproduction, either in part or in whole, without the express,
written permission of the author is strictly forbidden.


Part One.

My life changed dramatically some five years ago (as far as I have been
able to keep track of time).  My name in those days was Adam Thomas and I
had just turned 18 years of age and was in my senior year of high school.
I had lived all my life in the small town of Sunninghill situated in the
south east region of the country and was an only child.  My parents would,
I suppose, have been classified as middle-class and we lived in an
unpretentious single story house in a typical middle-class suburb.  My
father referred to himself as a bank executive although, if the truth were
to be known, he was probably your typical bank clerk.  My mother had never
worked and kept house in the old traditional way.  There was never much
money to spare although we lived comfortably enough, if rather frugally.
Fortunately for me I had no siblings and so my parents were able to spend a
little more on me than would otherwise have been the case.  Thus it was
that I was able to attend Glendale High School which was the best of the
local schools with good facilities and an above-average teaching staff.
However, many of the other kids came from wealthier families and, as was to
be expected, I found it difficult at times to fit in.  Those kids were
always sporting new clothes according to the latest fashions (while I
continued to be turned out in jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and my old trusty
leather jacket).  Moreover, on Monday mornings there was always talk of the
happenings over the weekend at the country club of which their parents were
invariably members.  Vacations, even overseas vacations, were another topic
of conversation.

Shortly after entering the eighth grade, my class went on an outing, the
details of which I don't remember, and I found myself sitting on the bus
next to a kid I had seen in class but had at that stage not spoken with.
He was an attractive kid with dark hair and blue eyes with attractive
features, nicely dressed too, and naturally we started a conversation.  His
name was Brad Smith and we soon became good friends.  Neither of us was the
jock type but both were interested in sports, playing baseball and doing
cross-country running.  We had similar tastes in music and liked taking in
movies and we soon began to hang out regularly as boys of that age do with
their best buds.  I discovered that Brad came from a very wealthy family,
his father being a prominent businessman in the town.  They lived in a
mansion on what really could be described as an estate, and I began to
wonder whether I could sustain a close friendship with such a privileged
boy.  I mentioned it to my mother and her advice was that people should be
judged for what they themselves are and that I shouldn't sell myself short.
Not long after we became really friendly, Brad invited me to stay for the
weekend at his home.  For a kid of my background it was an absolute
eye-opener.  I had no conception of how people of wealth lived.  The house
was huge, the furnishings like something from a Hollywood movie, and
wherever one found oneself, slaves seemed to be in attendance.  Meals
turned out to be quite formal although breakfast was a hit and miss affair,
and each member of the family was attended to individually by the house
slaves.  Brad and his younger brother Mike, who was two years younger,
apparently ate breakfast in their bedrooms at whatever time took their
fancy.  The boys' bedrooms were large and were a teenager's dream.  They
contained large beds, not the narrow type one normally associates with kids
of their age, a table and two easy chairs, in addition to a desk, and a
cabinet which housed a PC configuration, flat-screen TV and DVD
recorder/player.  Of course each bedroom had a bathroom en suite. In effect
each of the boys had a fully equipped apartment at his disposal.  Oh, how
envious I was!  At that time the re-introduction of slavery had become
fully accepted and I was quite accustomed to seeing slaves, so often shorn
of hair and outfitted in comical costumes, on the streets of the town,
sometimes unaccompanied performing tasks on behalf of their owners, or
sometimes in tow behind their Masters.  Nothing about those slaves really
registered in my mind as they seemed to have the ability to blend into the
background without attracting attention to themselves.  I asked Brad how he
interacted with the coterie of ever-present slaves in his home and he
responded - "Dude, I just don't bother.  Who the fuck cares?  They are
owned by my father and are there to serve, and provided they do what they
are told and don't fuck up, I just ignore them. Why should I concern myself
in any way with what are essentially pieces of property?"  I just nodded
dumbly.

Of course, the time arrived when I would have to reciprocate and invite
Brad to spend time at our house.  Despite everything I told myself, I
really was nervous.  I had no idea how he would react to the way my family
lived and dreaded the possibility of being patronized and becoming the butt
of jokes among the well-off kids at school.  I was so thankful we had a
guest room and that he was not going to be asked to share my bedroom,
although of course we had to share a bathroom.  As it turned out, Brad was
really cool about the whole affair and seemed to like the informality of
our lifestyle.  He particularly liked being fussed over by my mother and
told me later he thought she was terrific.  I glowed at the compliment and
resolved to show my mom more affection in future. Its strange how rich kids
fall into one of two categories; they are either complete assholes who get
a kick out of lording it over the less fortunate or alternatively they show
real good breeding.  Brad fell into the latter category and avoided asking
my father anything about his work which, in the circumstances, might have
been embarrassing for him.  My mother thought Brad was a "doll".

Brad and I remained friends with an easygoing relationship and, of course,
in due course, we started to take an interest in the opposite sex.  Brad of
course was regarded as a real catch by girls; he was cute and never let it
be said that girls, egged on by their parents, are unimpressed by wealth.
I too did not have too much trouble in getting dates and so it was that,
although Brad and I began too see a little less of each other, we quite
often double-dated.  I was surprised at the interest I invoked in girls and
so had a good look at myself in the mirror.  What I saw did not displease
me; I was quite tall for my age at 5'10", weighed in at about 150, and had
good regular features and a slim well-proportioned body, And a nice dick
too, even if I say so myself.  My best feature though was my hair.  I had a
nicely shaped head which showed off my dark blonde hair to perfection and I
made it a point of always having a cool hair style.  It seemed to work
wonders with the chicks!

Brad and I were now 16 years old and legally able to drive.  I had not
really expected to be given a car by my parents but it seemed that they had
been thinking it over and my dad splurged and bought himself a new vehicle
and handed down his 10-year-old sub-compact to me.  Strangely enough, old
clunkers are quite a status symbol with high school kids and so my new
acquisition did not prove to be too much of an embarrassment.  One night
Brad called me and suggested hanging out.  I said cool and he said I'll
pick you up in thirty minutes.  I waited for him outside my house and
nearly fell on my back when he arrived in a red 3-series BMW cabriolet with
black trim.  Accompanying him was his 14 year old bro Mike who, Brad later
told me, was crazy about the new car.  Brad hadn't had the heart to refuse
to have him along.  Brad told Mike to get in the back so that I could sit
up front and it wasn't difficult to sense Mike's anger at having to make
way for me. As a parting shot Mike said to me "So this is where you live!"
Brad told me "to ignore the little punk".  For some time I had felt Mike's
resentment of me but I had put it down to the fact that he was a little
jealous of my relationship with Brad.  Later Brad told me that having now
turned 16, his father had told him he would be prepared to buy a new slave
to serve as Brad's personal attendant but Brad had intimated to his dad
that he would prefer to be given a sports car.  Brad referred to it
laughingly as his new "cunt magnet".

The next two years were a pleasant time for me.  Brad and I remained
friends and we both were doing well at school.  Brad started to talk about
where he would be going to college and said it would be cool if we were
able to stay together.  I avoided the topic as my parents had uttered not a
word about the possibility of my studying further.  We dated regularly and
as we approached our 18th birthdays we each had acquired "unofficial"
steady girlfriends. Brad had become quite outgoing in the social sense and,
whenever his parents were away, which was quite frequently, he would host a
party at his home.  Normally there were about ten couples and, although
Brad ensured things did not get out of hand, a fair amount of beer was
consumed and, as always, there was a little drug-taking. Mike, of course,
could not be excluded and normally he would invite a few of his buddies and
sometimes one or two "bimbettes" as he referred to them.  On one such
occasion the party had wound down and Brad and I climbed into my car in
order to take our dates home.  While I drove Brad and his date were making
out in the back seat.  Eventually we dropped the girls off at their homes
and Brad got up front.  On the way back to Brad's place, it started to rain
and, although I don't recall the exact circumstances, the car skidded and I
collided with another vehicle.  We had both been drinking so I told Brad to
slip away figuring that there was no point in both of us having to face the
wrath of our parents.  I ran to the other vehicle which turned out to have
been driven by a kid of my age.  He had not been wearing a seatbelt and had
lurched forward into the windshield.  There was blood everywhere and I
quickly summoned an ambulance and the police.  The kid was taken away and
fortunately it turned out that he had only superficial injuries.  The
police meanwhile decided to take me to the station to be tested for alcohol
consumption.  My car was impounded and searched and a quantity of marijuana
was found on the floor on the passenger's side.  The pot had obviously
fallen out of Brad's pocket but how was I to protest my innocence when
apparently I had been the only one in the car at the time of the accident?

The following day I appeared in court for arraignment and had the book
thrown at me. I was released on bail into the custody of my parents and my
lawyer informed me that he considered I was very lucky to have been
released.  I called Brad a number of times but was unable to get hold of
him.  About a week later he called me and told me that his father had
forbidden him to speak or meet with me and with that he put down the
receiver. My trial was set for one month hence and so began the longest
wait of my life.  My parents were virtually ignoring me, the school's
headmaster had informed my father that it would be best if I did not attend
classes until the matter had been resolved, and Brad had deserted me.  That
was like having a knife twisted in my heart as I had after all saved his
ass and was now taking the rap for his having had drugs on him while in my
car.  My desolation at that time is difficult to describe.

The day of my trial arrived and I appeared in court in my best clothes, a
pair of slacks, a button-down shirt and tie, sport coat and smart
loafers. My hair as always was neatly cut. My parents were there to lend me
support and just before the judge entered I noticed Mr. Smith, accompanied
by Brad, slip into the court.  They remained at the back of the court and
did not acknowledge my greeting.  The prosecutor read out the charges, the
seriousness of which I really could not relate to, and I was asked to
plead.  I pleaded guilty as I had been advised to do by my lawyer
(considering the preponderance of the evidence) and my lawyer then asked if
he might address the court in mitigation.  I must say my lawyer put up a
sturdy case emphasizing how I had never been in trouble before, that I came
from a good Christian home, was an excellent student at a good school, and
that I would surely turn out to be an honest upstanding member of society
in the future. He asked that I be given a suspended sentence with community
service.

The judge in summing up stated that the continuing number of cases coming
before the courts involving minors was highly disturbing and it seemed that
nothing that was said or done made any impression on young offenders.
Young people seemed to think that their age would always shield them from
the proper application of the law and it was thus time in his opinion that
an example be made that would discourage would-be offenders in the
future. The defense's request for a suspended sentence would therefore be
denied.  In considering sentence he would then look at the facts of the
case.  Here, he continued, we have a situation where a young man, still
underage, is found to be driving a motor vehicle, a lethal instrument,
while under the influence of alcohol.  In his diminished state of mind, he
collides with another vehicle and the driver of that vehicle, returning
from a Church function, is quite seriously injured.  It was sheer chance
that that young man was not killed or incapacitated for life.  As if that
was not enough, a search of the accused's car revealed the presence of
drugs.  The seriousness of the matter could not be overstated.  The judge
then intimated that in his view this was a case where a sentence of
lifetime slavery was wholly appropriate and such a sentence was therefore
handed down.

I was stunned and out of the corner of my eye I saw that my mother had
collapsed and had fallen into my father's arms.  Despite the turmoil of the
moment I managed to catch sight of Mr. Smith and Brad quietly leaving the
court.  Before I knew what was happening two court officials grabbed my
arms and pinioned them behind my back.  Two others then snapped shackles
with a connecting chain on my ankles.  My clothes were stripped from my
body and I found myself standing bare-assed naked in front of the judge.
Finally a metal collar was locked around my neck and I was told to bow as
the judge left the court.  I was immediately handed over to another young
man carrying a short whip and hustled out of the court by means of a leash
attached to my collar all the time being told to "move your ass slaveboy,
we aint got all day".  I recognized this young man as Blade Anderson, the
older brother of Kenny Anderson, a young man, slightly older than me, who
had lived in my neighborhood and had become the owner, under rather strange
circumstances, of Slaves r Us, a local slave dealership.  I was hustled out
the side door of the court on to what appeared to be a loading bay and from
there on to a slave transport vehicle.  This was basically a flatbed truck
but had been fitted out with two rows of stand-up cages with an aisle down
the middle for access purposes.  I was shoved into one of the cages and
secured to its side. The cages were designed to be as restrictive as
possible and measured roughly 3' x 3' x 6'. They were secured to the
flatbed of the truck and were open to the elements and to the stares of
passersby.  I had joined six other newly enslaved wretches and before the
day was over had stood naked for four hours awaiting the arrival of further
newly-sentenced slaves.

At 4pm that afternoon the driver of the truck engaged gear and we were
driven off to begin our new lives as common slaves.


To be continued..........