Date: Wed, 9 Jan 2008 20:42:23 -0500
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: New Black and White Gold 4

NEW BLACK AND WHITE GOLD PART 4     THE JUSTICE SYSTEM  SWIFT AND FINAL

Oil Can was positively grinning as he sat backing his chair.   "Well,
Mr. Wilson, if you'll just remain here, we'll see when the judge plans
to hold court."  I did not appreciate his little joke as I would
certainly be just where I was unless someone released me.  I was strapped
in the chair.  I was sweating,  and  I felt like crying but I was not
going to give Oil Can the pleasure of seeing me descend into infantile
sobbing.   I sat there and tried to think rationally.  There was going to
be a court hearing.  I would explain it all to the judge.  The judge
could look at the video and see how Oil Can had manipulated the phone
calls.   I would ask to talk to Tom Scott of the bank myself, and I would
have the money and soon be free to flee this situation.   That little
bastard of a slave dealer might himself be in trouble.   With this
comforting thought I sat in my chair and tried not to consider any
consequences, but that I would soon be free from this horrible
situation.   I was almost calm.  I knew that soon all would be rectified.
After about ten minutes I started to find a new sensation.  I has to
piss.  The coffee that was so liberally offered during the slave handling
training and during the action had gone through my bladder  with its
usual speed.  The piss urge stay hidden by all the other concerns during
the phone calls that had made.  Now, with no other distraction I really
became aware of my need.   How does one tell the goons behind me - at
least I assumed they were still behind me - that I needed to be allowed
to go to the toilet.  I began making noises behind my gag again, and
thrashing about hoping to attract their concern.
Well I partially successful   I got their attention.   However they only
came over to make fun of my antics.  "Look at him do a wiggle around"
one of them said as he gyrated in a jerky way in imitation of me.  The
other one came over a patted me on the head .  "There little fellow."
he said,  "Don't you fret.  We'll have you up and out of here in no
time and you will be able to spend your first night in a nice secure
cage!  Won't that be fun?"   I suddenly heard myself talking to
slaves.  Why did free men talk to slaves like the slave was a child?  One
hour ago I was treated as an intelligent man who as a slave buyer was
worthy of polite respect.   Now I had already made the transition in
their eyes to the slave-child who was funny in its own childlike way.   I
renewed my efforts leaning my head down toward my crotch and trying to
use the fingers on my hands to also point in that direction.   The two
cretins loved these actions which they dubbed "The `restrained' chair
dance."
All this activity took my bladder over the edge, and suddenly the flood
of urine exploded out and the smell and the huge wet area of my pants
made it clear that I had pissed myself.   "SHIT ASSHOLE!" exploded one
of these mentally challenged brutes.  "If you had to piss,  why didn't
you tell us?"  I really wanted to piss on them at this point.  They were
still so slow that they did not recognize all the things that I had done
to do just that.  "It's a good thing that these chairs are all steel
and plastic" the other solemnly intoned.  "That was the little pisser
just gets to sit in his own mess."  I glared at him in true fury, for
which I received a strong cuff to the side of my head.  "Don't you
glare at me shit head.  You better learn respect or your ass will be sore
all the time.  Slaves are respectful of their betters."   "I AM NOT A
SLAVE" I shouted into my gag, for which fury, I received another
matching blow to the other side of my head.   "Sam go get some
disinfectant, paper towels, and some plastic gloves.  I am tired of
smelling this, and pretty soon his piss will work itself from the chair
on to the floor, and then We will be in trouble."
I smiled to myself hearing this.  I wanted them to have to have to soil
their hands with my piss.  It would be a bit of revenge to have the goons
have to deal with my piss.  As I was in this reverie,  I saw the guard go
to the storage cabinet that I had noticed earlier.  He opened it and
after stuffing his arms with the items said to his partner, "I got the
stuff.  Let's put shit to work."   I suddenly realized what I should
have known.  NO free man does shitty work when a slave is around, and
formalities aside,  these two already thought of me as a slave, and as a
slave I would be put to work on clean up.  I now also found out that the
plastic gloves were for the goons as they unbuckled the straps holding me
in the chair.  I was soon given some paper towels and told to mop up my
piss and put the towels in a plastic trash bag that the goon had also
brought over.  Mopping up the piss got the towels sopping wet with cold
piss, but I had no choices as I knew that if I did not wipe up the chair
clean, I would be beaten.  I finished sopping up the piss, I stood up,
and looked for instructions.  "Well SHIT-FOR-BRAINS USE THE DISINFECTANT
AND WIPE THE CHAIR AND THEN DRY IT OFF!"   This instruction was shouted
and said very slowly as if I were both deaf and a two years old.  Goon 1
intoned solemnly,  "You see you have to give slaves very clear
instructions,  They don't know how to do anything except to do as told.
If you forget any part of  the process of even simple tasks like cleaning
up piss, they just stand there stupidly like Asshole here until you give
them the next steps.  Any normal free man would have the intelligence to
figure out what should be done next.  You can always see why these guys
get enslaved.  They are not capable of getting through life on their
own."   These remarks were accompanied with head nodding and a genuine
feeling of stating and hearing  some great universal truth.
 As I sprayed on the disinfectant, and then wiped it off, and finally
wiped all the chair and seat one last time, I thought to myself  "Until
I made the stupid mistake of keeping bidding when I went beyond the limit
that had been established I was thought of being quite capable and even
intelligent. Had the spirit of competition not overcome me, I still would
be regarded as an outstanding man."   However competition and emotion
had taken control of me, and now I was here on my knees, cleaning up my
own piss, with the two cretins watching me and treating me like a
retard.  Soon I completed my task, and as much as I wanted to go on to
the next step and prove that I was smart enough to be independent and not
prove these goons wrong I really did not have any idea of what I should
do next.  The moment of indecision was enough, in a second I heard a
slave command I had heard and even given many time.  "Position 1"  I
knew that Position 1 was "slave at attention awaiting orders,"  and was
one of the five basic slave commands all slave are taught to follow
without even thinking.  Reluctantly I did as I had seen so many slave
do.  I stood up straight and locked my hands to opposite arms behind my
head, and fixed my eyes on the ground about a yard in front of me.
"Good boy" the guard said, and patted me on the head like a pet animal.
"What'll we do with his pants..  They smell too"  said one of my goons
in a bored monotone.  "Leave'm on him" said the other goon.  "It will
help the judge to understand why this boy needs the discipline and
direction of slavery.  It'll show he can't even take care of basic
hygiene."    "The problem is how to keep him from messing up another
chair" replied goon 2.  "GOOD POINT!" goon1 said.  "Go get a slave
diaper and we'll put that on him."  I silently cursed the outburst that
had gotten me gagged.  Had I not been gagged I would have been able to
ask to be taken to where I could piss, and I might have been able to
appear before the judge dressed like a young professional.  Now I was
going to appear before the judge with no pants on, and instead in a slave
diaper which is used on slaves that are so animal like that the slave
just pisses and shits like an animal whenever it wants.  I knew that my
appearance would only make my enslavement more likely.  I awaited my
diapering.
It did not take too long as I waited in my Slave Position 1.  Goon 2 went
back to the cabinet and then reappeared with the yellow slave diaper in
his hand.   "Slave strip off pants and underwear and put them in the
trash bag with the towels." goon 1 ordered.  I obeyed.    The diaper was
placed flat on the floor.  "On the floor on your back with your ass on
the diaper." I was ordered.   Again I just obeyed.  Whoever said that
corporal punishment did not change behavior I am here to tell you that
that person is  wrong.  Those powerful slaps were in my mind as well as
still present in some stinging on my face.  I would obey rather than be
slapped more.  As I sat down with my ass positioned on the diaper and
then laid back so I could be diapered as a child, I knew that it would
not be hard for them to turn me into a very compliant slave.   I was most
of the way there already.
After the Velcro fasteners were strapped tightly.  I waited for further
orders.  I knew that I was not expected to stand up unless ordered to do
so.  "You look cute boy," goon one said.  "Stand up and go over to one
of the chairs in front of the bench."   I rose and walked over to the
chairs in front of the bench.    I don't know what caused me to do it,
but I headed for the right side and started to sit down in one of the
regular chairs.   The two goons had not paid attention to my walk but had
instead been taking the trash bag over behind the curtain, where I heard
a door open, close, and then open again. .
 When they turned around goon 1 yelled.  "YOU STUPID SHIT.  YOU KNOW
YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN THOSE CHAIRS AND GET OVER ON THE LEFT AND TAKE
THE RESTRAINT CHAIR."    I immediately arose and scrambled over to the
restraint chair behind the other table and sat down and tried to give my
best "I'm sorry; I did not understand look."   IT WORKED.  Goon 1
looked at me with a look that was a mixture of pity and contempt.
"It's like I said."  intoned  goon 1, "You have to be very clear and
exact with slave instructions.  They just can't  even make the most
simple decisions on their own."   I smiled to myself, but carefully did
not allow any change to the blank look I was presenting to the two
goons.
As I sat there awaiting the next step in this process which I hoped would
be one last chance to save myself from the slavery that seemed so close
to me now, I made a mental note to give slaves a little more credit since
in the quiet of the room, and with me once again retrained in a chair, I
had plenty of opportunity to remember the many times I had pompously
preached the similar doctrine that slaves were slaves because they were
meant to be slaves, and needed to be slaves.    If I escaped I planned to
present a much more humane consideration of slaves into my life, and quit
what I now saw to be a rationalization of free men to justify the
enslavement of other men who had been free.  This total change from human
to property could not be justified to any rational mind unless the
underlying necessity and even perhaps generosity of putting a thinking
human being into a situation where to survive it had to act like a dumb
animal.   And I do mean dumb animal.  Free men would accept more
intelligent responses from real horses, dogs and other animals than they
would accept or acknowledge from their former human, now slave,
animals.  I knew better now.  I prayed that this revelation would not go
in vain as I myself became a dumb human animal - credited with less sense
that a well-bread horse, dog , or cat.
When I was seated in one of the restraint chairs goon 2 came over and
strapped my legs to the chair.  "Boy, when the judge comes in all
persons are supposed to rise, and technically you are still a man, and
should rise.  It will not help your case if you do not.  If I don't
strap your wrists,  and around your waist you will have to keep your
hands on the arms like they were strapped in except for the rising.   Can
you do that?  I am only trying to help you."  I could not believe that
one of the goons was being this considerate, and so I nodded my head
vigorously up and down, and so I was not strapped in except for my
ankles, and my lap and wrists straps were left off.  "Now don't take
advantage of this kindness," goon 2  said after strapping my legs
securely to the chair, "because if you do get enslaved I'll be one of
the first to give you a punishment strapping on your slave butt."  I
knew that using a punishment strap on my butt would hurt like hell since
I did not have a toughened hide like slaves acquire after having their
butts swatted multiple times a day.
 "Now practice standing so you don't fall on your face." he said.  I
again was very thankful for goon 2's consideration.  I tried to get up,
and with ankles strapped tightly to the chair legs.   I indeed began
losing my balance.  Goon 2 caught me and advised me to lean a little back
toward the chair as I rose, and to use my hands to grasp the chair arms
to steady myself.  I practiced a couple of more times.   "Good boy,"
Goon 2 said, and instead of being offended by being called boy, I
genuinely smiled as best a could and mouthed "Thank you" through my
gag.   Goon 2 seemed to understand my thanks and said "I think you were
trying to tell us you needed to piss, and we did not understand.  I think
we owed you these two courtesies."   I was overwhelmed with thankfulness
and gratitude.  I wanted to kiss his hand.   When I sat there awaiting
the arrival of the judge I realized how much a slave would appreciate any
human kindness however small.   Again my resolve to improve on my callous
use of slaves became stronger, and I also resolved to revise my plans for
the slave powered vehicles to include as many considerations as I
could.for for the comfort the slave-power of those vehicles.
A few minutes later a man arrived and slid into the real chair next to
me.  "I am your public defender." he said, adding " I need to see if
there is any way to save you from slavery."   "Guard remove this man's
gag." he ordered.  "I have a right to consult with my client."    My
luck seemed to be changing!   I was shown some kindness by Goon 2, and
now I had a lawyer, and he was able to get that awful gag out of my
mouth.  I know it is trite to say, but truly one does not appreciate
something until it is lost.  The ability to open and close my mouth was
glorious - and that I could talk like a real human was almost thrilling
beyond any good event in my entire life.   Again it is trite but
adversity does help a person understand the essential parts of life.  I
began to have some guarded hope.  Maybe with my lawyer's help, I could
find the money and escape the slavery which Oil Can seemed so determined
to bring me to.
When I could talk again, my first words were "THANK YOU SIR!" to my
lawyer.  He may be young, his suit rumpled, and he slightly smelled of
perspiration, but to me at that moment he was as close to a saint as I
ever expected to see.   "My name is Sam Parish." he said, and then
looking at the bright yellow slave diaper, he paused and yelled, "WHY IS
MY CLIENT IN THESE SLAVE DIAPERS!?   WHERE ARE HIS PANTS!?  THIS MAN IS
NOT A SLAVE AND IF YOU HAVE CONFISCATED HIS PANTS ILLEGALLY YOU MIGHT BE
STRAPPED IN THIS CHAIR SOON."   I now literally loved this guy, and
weird as it might be, wondered if he would like for me to lick all that
sweat off him.  Well what can I say. I am still young.  I am gay, and
right at this moment this guy is the best friend and buddy I could
imagine.  I would love to show him up close and personal just how
grateful I could be.
The goons dashed over and Goon 2  gasped out "SIR, he pissed in his
pants, and we put these on him to protect the chair.   His pants are in
the garbage bag, SIR"   "And did he ask you to go use the rest room?"
my lawyer sneered?     "SIR he was gagged, and when he was wiggling
around we did not understand, SIR" Goon 2 continued.   "Get his pants
out here, take them across the street and have them rushed clean, and I
know you have some pants here, and get regular pants on him
immediately!" my lawyer again yelled in a very authoritative voice.
The two goons ran off to do their tasks.  I loved this guy, and if he got
me off, I was going to show him in EVERY WAY I knew just how much I loved
him.
"Now" he intoned, looking at me" tell me how you got yourself in this
mess."  I told him the story of the bidding, the stupid competition I
got into, and finally I admitted that the attendant did tell me I had
overbid my resources, and I went ahead anyway.  I felt totally stupid and
childish at this point.   My lawyer confirmed this feeling with a terse
"That wasn't too bright was it."   I then told of being taken to this
room, and how the phone calls were made, and how I ended  up strapped
down and gagged.
"Well" Sam said after I finished, "the attendant did not do anything
illegal.  He brought you to this special reconciliation room because
there was a potential you committed fraud by over bidding your
resources.  As you noticed this room is equipped to restrain, and even
try a person who commits this crime, and there was reasonable suspicion
you had committed a felony.  He did not have to keep you from using the
phone, but it is within his rights to do as he did.  Your grabbing at the
phone is a stretch of his rights to prevent a possible felon from harming
him,  but with the state always looking at any conviction of a young male
as also creating a potential male slave,  the judge will probably not
give us any slack on that one."
At this point Goon 1 arrived with a pair of jeans, clean and pressed.
"Here SIR" he said.  "These belong to one of the guards here.  He
keeps it here in case he wants to go out after his shift, and a slave
handling uniform scares some guys."    I did not really care,  and I
rose with my new skills and looked for someone to take off the ankle
restraints that locked me to this chair.  Goon 1 knelt down and began
letting me free when Goon 2 arrived with my pants.  "Here they are." he
exclaimed breathlessly. "They cleaner rushed them through a dry
cleaning, and pressed them."   The lawyer said how much, and Goon 2
smiled and said "I charged it to the auction house."  I thought that if
I escaped after I made sure my lawyer was thanked in EVERY way I could
thank him, I would have to make sure that I gave as much attention and
personal appreciation as I could creatively create to Goon 2.
I was released, and then looked at my fairly tight pants, and knew they
would not go over the bulky diaper.  My lawyer solved the problem by
unfastening the diaper and letting it fall to the floor, and after giving
my equipment a quick look over, said "Just put the pants on without
underwear.  The judge will only see the pants."  I mentally noted that I
had been checked out, and knew that my offer to make this MAN happy,
content, and satisfied  would seem to be welcomed.   Goon 1 then looked
at me and said "SIR DOWN so your ankles can be re-strapped."  I meekly
sat down and again felt my ankles lose their freedom.  I hoped that this
loss of freedom would not be followed by any more losses of my personal
freedom.  However, I pushed this idea from my mind as right at the moment
the momentum seemed flowing my way.
Now Sam looked at me and said "I have a cell phone.  Who can you call to
get the $15,000 you need?"   I said that I would try for an advance from
my employer.  Sam gave me the phone and I dialed my boss.  When he
answered he seemed genuinely surprised to hear my voice.  "Johnny, I had
been led to believe that you were going to be enslaved for making a
unsupported bid for a slave." Mr. Galvin said.
"SIR no SIR, that has not happened yet.  Mr. Galvin it does not need to
happen if you could make me a "15,000 advance on the bonus you told me
yesterday that I would be receiving this month."  I knew that you have
heard the saying that at some point "my heart stopped beating."   Well
I think that mine did as I knew this man and his decision was my fate.
"Well John^Å" he intoned solemnly.  My hopes began to crumble as I knew
that this was not leading to what I wanted to hear.   He continued slowly
and seemingly with some reluctance.  "John, in my conversation with that
very helpful and considerate Mr. Thornhill he pointed out that if you
were enslaved he could arrange your sale to the firm and even though the
initial sum might be high you would now belong to us.  We could be sure
you worked seven days and week and longer hours, and the break even point
over your freeman salary and the cost of keeping you as a slave was less
than two years.  I am sorry to tell you John,  but you have already been
officially terminated, and so there is no bonus to give you this money.
There was a pause, and Mr. Galvin continued with, it seemed to me,  real
regret in his voice.  "John I have always liked you, and I would loan
you the money personally, but I am the one who sold (not a term I wanted
to hear in any context at the time) the company our buying you, and I
would lose my job if now I subverted the plan I have proposed." Then
hastily he added, "If you are able to keep from being enslaved I will be
\happy to give you my highest personal recommendation as a valuable
employee and good worker."   With that remark the line went dead.
My ashen face and sagging shoulders told Sam the money was not coming
from the bonus even before I told him what had happened.   I silently
said a fervent prayer that some really horrible disease or other calamity
could happen soon to Mr. Oil Can Thornhill.  I knew with no job a bank
loan was out.  "Do you have any friends who will and can advance you the
money to keep you from being enslaved?" Sam asked, looking genuinely as
sorry as I felt for myself.   I thought and thought and suddenly had one
idea.  A man I had known in high school, and with whom I had done some
gay sex exploration lived in the city and we had met and talked over old
times on several occasions.  Terry had made a ton of money , ironically
in the present situation, in the slave trade.   Terry was a hope.  We
were friends of a sort, and I suspected  - actually I knew - had spent
$15,000 at the racetrack one day we had gone there.  I marveled that I
even remembered his phone number.  After just having my hopes dashed and
feeling the straps on my ankles seem to tighten, now hope returned, and I
could imagine these straps flying off my legs never to return.
I dialed his number .  I got his answering machine.
At that moment Oil Can and two others slaves-to-be came into the room
with a bevy of guard goons.  The other restrained guys were taken over to
the steel restraint chairs along the wall , and each completely strapped
in.  Oil Can Thornhill and another man went over to the table next to
us.  Thornhill smiled - no smirked - over at me.  It was as if he knew
that my last hope had ended in "Leave a message after the tone."

NEW BLACK AND WHITE GOLD
PART 4     THE JUSTICE SYSTEM  SWIFT AND FINAL
Oil Can was positively grinning as he sat backing his chair.   "Well,
Mr. Wilson, if you'll just remain here, we'll see when the judge plans
to hold court."  I did not appreciate his little joke as I would
certainly be just where I was unless someone released me.  I was strapped
in the chair.  I was sweating,  and  I felt like crying but I was not
going to give Oil Can the pleasure of seeing me descend into infantile
sobbing.   I sat there and tried to think rationally.  There was going to
be a court hearing.  I would explain it all to the judge.  The judge
could look at the video and see how Oil Can had manipulated the phone
calls.   I would ask to talk to Tom Scott of the bank myself, and I would
have the money and soon be free to flee this situation.   That little
bastard of a slave dealer might himself be in trouble.   With this
comforting thought I sat in my chair and tried not to consider any
consequences, but that I would soon be free from this horrible
situation.   I was almost calm.  I knew that soon all would be rectified.
After about ten minutes I started to find a new sensation.  I has to
piss.  The coffee that was so liberally offered during the slave handling
training and during the action had gone through my bladder  with its
usual speed.  The piss urge stay hidden by all the other concerns during
the phone calls that had made.  Now, with no other distraction I really
became aware of my need.   How does one tell the goons behind me - at
least I assumed they were still behind me - that I needed to be allowed
to go to the toilet.  I began making noises behind my gag again, and
thrashing about hoping to attract their concern.
Well I partially successful   I got their attention.   However they only
came over to make fun of my antics.  "Look at him do a wiggle around"
one of them said as he gyrated in a jerky way in imitation of me.  The
other one came over a patted me on the head .  "There little fellow."
he said,  "Don't you fret.  We'll have you up and out of here in no
time and you will be able to spend your first night in a nice secure
cage!  Won't that be fun?"   I suddenly heard myself talking to
slaves.  Why did free men talk to slaves like the slave was a child?  One
hour ago I was treated as an intelligent man who as a slave buyer was
worthy of polite respect.   Now I had already made the transition in
their eyes to the slave-child who was funny in its own childlike way.   I
renewed my efforts leaning my head down toward my crotch and trying to
use the fingers on my hands to also point in that direction.   The two
cretins loved these actions which they dubbed "The `restrained' chair
dance."
All this activity took my bladder over the edge, and suddenly the flood
of urine exploded out and the smell and the huge wet area of my pants
made it clear that I had pissed myself.   "SHIT ASSHOLE!" exploded one
of these mentally challenged brutes.  "If you had to piss,  why didn't
you tell us?"  I really wanted to piss on them at this point.  They were
still so slow that they did not recognize all the things that I had done
to do just that.  "It's a good thing that these chairs are all steel
and plastic" the other solemnly intoned.  "That was the little pisser
just gets to sit in his own mess."  I glared at him in true fury, for
which I received a strong cuff to the side of my head.  "Don't you
glare at me shit head.  You better learn respect or your ass will be sore
all the time.  Slaves are respectful of their betters."   "I AM NOT A
SLAVE" I shouted into my gag, for which fury, I received another
matching blow to the other side of my head.   "Sam go get some
disinfectant, paper towels, and some plastic gloves.  I am tired of
smelling this, and pretty soon his piss will work itself from the chair
on to the floor, and then We will be in trouble."
I smiled to myself hearing this.  I wanted them to have to have to soil
their hands with my piss.  It would be a bit of revenge to have the goons
have to deal with my piss.  As I was in this reverie,  I saw the guard go
to the storage cabinet that I had noticed earlier.  He opened it and
after stuffing his arms with the items said to his partner, "I got the
stuff.  Let's put shit to work."   I suddenly realized what I should
have known.  NO free man does shitty work when a slave is around, and
formalities aside,  these two already thought of me as a slave, and as a
slave I would be put to work on clean up.  I now also found out that the
plastic gloves were for the goons as they unbuckled the straps holding me
in the chair.  I was soon given some paper towels and told to mop up my
piss and put the towels in a plastic trash bag that the goon had also
brought over.  Mopping up the piss got the towels sopping wet with cold
piss, but I had no choices as I knew that if I did not wipe up the chair
clean, I would be beaten.  I finished sopping up the piss, I stood up,
and looked for instructions.  "Well SHIT-FOR-BRAINS USE THE DISINFECTANT
AND WIPE THE CHAIR AND THEN DRY IT OFF!"   This instruction was shouted
and said very slowly as if I were both deaf and a two years old.  Goon 1
intoned solemnly,  "You see you have to give slaves very clear
instructions,  They don't know how to do anything except to do as told.
If you forget any part of  the process of even simple tasks like cleaning
up piss, they just stand there stupidly like Asshole here until you give
them the next steps.  Any normal free man would have the intelligence to
figure out what should be done next.  You can always see why these guys
get enslaved.  They are not capable of getting through life on their
own."   These remarks were accompanied with head nodding and a genuine
feeling of stating and hearing  some great universal truth.
 As I sprayed on the disinfectant, and then wiped it off, and finally
wiped all the chair and seat one last time, I thought to myself  "Until
I made the stupid mistake of keeping bidding when I went beyond the limit
that had been established I was thought of being quite capable and even
intelligent. Had the spirit of competition not overcome me, I still would
be regarded as an outstanding man."   However competition and emotion
had taken control of me, and now I was here on my knees, cleaning up my
own piss, with the two cretins watching me and treating me like a
retard.  Soon I completed my task, and as much as I wanted to go on to
the next step and prove that I was smart enough to be independent and not
prove these goons wrong I really did not have any idea of what I should
do next.  The moment of indecision was enough, in a second I heard a
slave command I had heard and even given many time.  "Position 1"  I
knew that Position 1 was "slave at attention awaiting orders,"  and was
one of the five basic slave commands all slave are taught to follow
without even thinking.  Reluctantly I did as I had seen so many slave
do.  I stood up straight and locked my hands to opposite arms behind my
head, and fixed my eyes on the ground about a yard in front of me.
"Good boy" the guard said, and patted me on the head like a pet animal.
"What'll we do with his pants..  They smell too"  said one of my goons
in a bored monotone.  "Leave'm on him" said the other goon.  "It will
help the judge to understand why this boy needs the discipline and
direction of slavery.  It'll show he can't even take care of basic
hygiene."    "The problem is how to keep him from messing up another
chair" replied goon 2.  "GOOD POINT!" goon1 said.  "Go get a slave
diaper and we'll put that on him."  I silently cursed the outburst that
had gotten me gagged.  Had I not been gagged I would have been able to
ask to be taken to where I could piss, and I might have been able to
appear before the judge dressed like a young professional.  Now I was
going to appear before the judge with no pants on, and instead in a slave
diaper which is used on slaves that are so animal like that the slave
just pisses and shits like an animal whenever it wants.  I knew that my
appearance would only make my enslavement more likely.  I awaited my
diapering.
It did not take too long as I waited in my Slave Position 1.  Goon 2 went
back to the cabinet and then reappeared with the yellow slave diaper in
his hand.   "Slave strip off pants and underwear and put them in the
trash bag with the towels." goon 1 ordered.  I obeyed.    The diaper was
placed flat on the floor.  "On the floor on your back with your ass on
the diaper." I was ordered.   Again I just obeyed.  Whoever said that
corporal punishment did not change behavior I am here to tell you that
that person is  wrong.  Those powerful slaps were in my mind as well as
still present in some stinging on my face.  I would obey rather than be
slapped more.  As I sat down with my ass positioned on the diaper and
then laid back so I could be diapered as a child, I knew that it would
not be hard for them to turn me into a very compliant slave.   I was most
of the way there already.
After the Velcro fasteners were strapped tightly.  I waited for further
orders.  I knew that I was not expected to stand up unless ordered to do
so.  "You look cute boy," goon one said.  "Stand up and go over to one
of the chairs in front of the bench."   I rose and walked over to the
chairs in front of the bench.    I don't know what caused me to do it,
but I headed for the right side and started to sit down in one of the
regular chairs.   The two goons had not paid attention to my walk but had
instead been taking the trash bag over behind the curtain, where I heard
a door open, close, and then open again. .
 When they turned around goon 1 yelled.  "YOU STUPID SHIT.  YOU KNOW
YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN THOSE CHAIRS AND GET OVER ON THE LEFT AND TAKE
THE RESTRAINT CHAIR."    I immediately arose and scrambled over to the
restraint chair behind the other table and sat down and tried to give my
best "I'm sorry; I did not understand look."   IT WORKED.  Goon 1
looked at me with a look that was a mixture of pity and contempt.
"It's like I said."  intoned  goon 1, "You have to be very clear and
exact with slave instructions.  They just can't  even make the most
simple decisions on their own."   I smiled to myself, but carefully did
not allow any change to the blank look I was presenting to the two
goons.
As I sat there awaiting the next step in this process which I hoped would
be one last chance to save myself from the slavery that seemed so close
to me now, I made a mental note to give slaves a little more credit since
in the quiet of the room, and with me once again retrained in a chair, I
had plenty of opportunity to remember the many times I had pompously
preached the similar doctrine that slaves were slaves because they were
meant to be slaves, and needed to be slaves.    If I escaped I planned to
present a much more humane consideration of slaves into my life, and quit
what I now saw to be a rationalization of free men to justify the
enslavement of other men who had been free.  This total change from human
to property could not be justified to any rational mind unless the
underlying necessity and even perhaps generosity of putting a thinking
human being into a situation where to survive it had to act like a dumb
animal.   And I do mean dumb animal.  Free men would accept more
intelligent responses from real horses, dogs and other animals than they
would accept or acknowledge from their former human, now slave,
animals.  I knew better now.  I prayed that this revelation would not go
in vain as I myself became a dumb human animal - credited with less sense
that a well-bread horse, dog , or cat.
When I was seated in one of the restraint chairs goon 2 came over and
strapped my legs to the chair.  "Boy, when the judge comes in all
persons are supposed to rise, and technically you are still a man, and
should rise.  It will not help your case if you do not.  If I don't
strap your wrists,  and around your waist you will have to keep your
hands on the arms like they were strapped in except for the rising.   Can
you do that?  I am only trying to help you."  I could not believe that
one of the goons was being this considerate, and so I nodded my head
vigorously up and down, and so I was not strapped in except for my
ankles, and my lap and wrists straps were left off.  "Now don't take
advantage of this kindness," goon 2  said after strapping my legs
securely to the chair, "because if you do get enslaved I'll be one of
the first to give you a punishment strapping on your slave butt."  I
knew that using a punishment strap on my butt would hurt like hell since
I did not have a toughened hide like slaves acquire after having their
butts swatted multiple times a day.
 "Now practice standing so you don't fall on your face." he said.  I
again was very thankful for goon 2's consideration.  I tried to get up,
and with ankles strapped tightly to the chair legs.   I indeed began
losing my balance.  Goon 2 caught me and advised me to lean a little back
toward the chair as I rose, and to use my hands to grasp the chair arms
to steady myself.  I practiced a couple of more times.   "Good boy,"
Goon 2 said, and instead of being offended by being called boy, I
genuinely smiled as best a could and mouthed "Thank you" through my
gag.   Goon 2 seemed to understand my thanks and said "I think you were
trying to tell us you needed to piss, and we did not understand.  I think
we owed you these two courtesies."   I was overwhelmed with thankfulness
and gratitude.  I wanted to kiss his hand.   When I sat there awaiting
the arrival of the judge I realized how much a slave would appreciate any
human kindness however small.   Again my resolve to improve on my callous
use of slaves became stronger, and I also resolved to revise my plans for
the slave powered vehicles to include as many considerations as I
could.for for the comfort the slave-power of those vehicles.
A few minutes later a man arrived and slid into the real chair next to
me.  "I am your public defender." he said, adding " I need to see if
there is any way to save you from slavery."   "Guard remove this man's
gag." he ordered.  "I have a right to consult with my client."    My
luck seemed to be changing!   I was shown some kindness by Goon 2, and
now I had a lawyer, and he was able to get that awful gag out of my
mouth.  I know it is trite to say, but truly one does not appreciate
something until it is lost.  The ability to open and close my mouth was
glorious - and that I could talk like a real human was almost thrilling
beyond any good event in my entire life.   Again it is trite but
adversity does help a person understand the essential parts of life.  I
began to have some guarded hope.  Maybe with my lawyer's help, I could
find the money and escape the slavery which Oil Can seemed so determined
to bring me to.
When I could talk again, my first words were "THANK YOU SIR!" to my
lawyer.  He may be young, his suit rumpled, and he slightly smelled of
perspiration, but to me at that moment he was as close to a saint as I
ever expected to see.   "My name is Sam Parish." he said, and then
looking at the bright yellow slave diaper, he paused and yelled, "WHY IS
MY CLIENT IN THESE SLAVE DIAPERS!?   WHERE ARE HIS PANTS!?  THIS MAN IS
NOT A SLAVE AND IF YOU HAVE CONFISCATED HIS PANTS ILLEGALLY YOU MIGHT BE
STRAPPED IN THIS CHAIR SOON."   I now literally loved this guy, and
weird as it might be, wondered if he would like for me to lick all that
sweat off him.  Well what can I say. I am still young.  I am gay, and
right at this moment this guy is the best friend and buddy I could
imagine.  I would love to show him up close and personal just how
grateful I could be.
The goons dashed over and Goon 2  gasped out "SIR, he pissed in his
pants, and we put these on him to protect the chair.   His pants are in
the garbage bag, SIR"   "And did he ask you to go use the rest room?"
my lawyer sneered?     "SIR he was gagged, and when he was wiggling
around we did not understand, SIR" Goon 2 continued.   "Get his pants
out here, take them across the street and have them rushed clean, and I
know you have some pants here, and get regular pants on him
immediately!" my lawyer again yelled in a very authoritative voice.
The two goons ran off to do their tasks.  I loved this guy, and if he got
me off, I was going to show him in EVERY WAY I knew just how much I loved
him.
"Now" he intoned, looking at me" tell me how you got yourself in this
mess."  I told him the story of the bidding, the stupid competition I
got into, and finally I admitted that the attendant did tell me I had
overbid my resources, and I went ahead anyway.  I felt totally stupid and
childish at this point.   My lawyer confirmed this feeling with a terse
"That wasn't too bright was it."   I then told of being taken to this
room, and how the phone calls were made, and how I ended  up strapped
down and gagged.
"Well" Sam said after I finished, "the attendant did not do anything
illegal.  He brought you to this special reconciliation room because
there was a potential you committed fraud by over bidding your
resources.  As you noticed this room is equipped to restrain, and even
try a person who commits this crime, and there was reasonable suspicion
you had committed a felony.  He did not have to keep you from using the
phone, but it is within his rights to do as he did.  Your grabbing at the
phone is a stretch of his rights to prevent a possible felon from harming
him,  but with the state always looking at any conviction of a young male
as also creating a potential male slave,  the judge will probably not
give us any slack on that one."
At this point Goon 1 arrived with a pair of jeans, clean and pressed.
"Here SIR" he said.  "These belong to one of the guards here.  He
keeps it here in case he wants to go out after his shift, and a slave
handling uniform scares some guys."    I did not really care,  and I
rose with my new skills and looked for someone to take off the ankle
restraints that locked me to this chair.  Goon 1 knelt down and began
letting me free when Goon 2 arrived with my pants.  "Here they are." he
exclaimed breathlessly. "They cleaner rushed them through a dry
cleaning, and pressed them."   The lawyer said how much, and Goon 2
smiled and said "I charged it to the auction house."  I thought that if
I escaped after I made sure my lawyer was thanked in EVERY way I could
thank him, I would have to make sure that I gave as much attention and
personal appreciation as I could creatively create to Goon 2.
I was released, and then looked at my fairly tight pants, and knew they
would not go over the bulky diaper.  My lawyer solved the problem by
unfastening the diaper and letting it fall to the floor, and after giving
my equipment a quick look over, said "Just put the pants on without
underwear.  The judge will only see the pants."  I mentally noted that I
had been checked out, and knew that my offer to make this MAN happy,
content, and satisfied  would seem to be welcomed.   Goon 1 then looked
at me and said "SIR DOWN so your ankles can be re-strapped."  I meekly
sat down and again felt my ankles lose their freedom.  I hoped that this
loss of freedom would not be followed by any more losses of my personal
freedom.  However, I pushed this idea from my mind as right at the moment
the momentum seemed flowing my way.
Now Sam looked at me and said "I have a cell phone.  Who can you call to
get the $15,000 you need?"   I said that I would try for an advance from
my employer.  Sam gave me the phone and I dialed my boss.  When he
answered he seemed genuinely surprised to hear my voice.  "Johnny, I had
been led to believe that you were going to be enslaved for making a
unsupported bid for a slave." Mr. Galvin said.
"SIR no SIR, that has not happened yet.  Mr. Galvin it does not need to
happen if you could make me a "15,000 advance on the bonus you told me
yesterday that I would be receiving this month."  I knew that you have
heard the saying that at some point "my heart stopped beating."   Well
I think that mine did as I knew this man and his decision was my fate.
"Well John^Å" he intoned solemnly.  My hopes began to crumble as I knew
that this was not leading to what I wanted to hear.   He continued slowly
and seemingly with some reluctance.  "John, in my conversation with that
very helpful and considerate Mr. Thornhill he pointed out that if you
were enslaved he could arrange your sale to the firm and even though the
initial sum might be high you would now belong to us.  We could be sure
you worked seven days and week and longer hours, and the break even point
over your freeman salary and the cost of keeping you as a slave was less
than two years.  I am sorry to tell you John,  but you have already been
officially terminated, and so there is no bonus to give you this money.
There was a pause, and Mr. Galvin continued with, it seemed to me,  real
regret in his voice.  "John I have always liked you, and I would loan
you the money personally, but I am the one who sold (not a term I wanted
to hear in any context at the time) the company our buying you, and I
would lose my job if now I subverted the plan I have proposed." Then
hastily he added, "If you are able to keep from being enslaved I will be
\happy to give you my highest personal recommendation as a valuable
employee and good worker."   With that remark the line went dead.
My ashen face and sagging shoulders told Sam the money was not coming
from the bonus even before I told him what had happened.   I silently
said a fervent prayer that some really horrible disease or other calamity
could happen soon to Mr. Oil Can Thornhill.  I knew with no job a bank
loan was out.  "Do you have any friends who will and can advance you the
money to keep you from being enslaved?" Sam asked, looking genuinely as
sorry as I felt for myself.   I thought and thought and suddenly had one
idea.  A man I had known in high school, and with whom I had done some
gay sex exploration lived in the city and we had met and talked over old
times on several occasions.  Terry had made a ton of money , ironically
in the present situation, in the slave trade.   Terry was a hope.  We
were friends of a sort, and I suspected  - actually I knew - had spent
$15,000 at the racetrack one day we had gone there.  I marveled that I
even remembered his phone number.  After just having my hopes dashed and
feeling the straps on my ankles seem to tighten, now hope returned, and I
could imagine these straps flying off my legs never to return.
I dialed his number .  I got his answering machine.
At that moment Oil Can and two others slaves-to-be came into the room
with a bevy of guard goons.  The other restrained guys were taken over to
the steel restraint chairs along the wall , and each completely strapped
in.  Oil Can Thornhill and another man went over to the table next to
us.  Thornhill smiled - no smirked - over at me.  It was as if he knew
that my last hope had ended in "Leave a message after the tone."