Date: Sun, 26 Oct 2008 16:31:06 -0400
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Farm Chapters 8-9

As most writers I appreciate commetns on the story.  As a teacher of
writing, I also know that opther eyes see things in stories that the author
would never note, and so appreciate constructive comments.  I hope that
these tow chapters are worth the wait.

daw



Chapter 8

Justice Delayed is Justice Denied


Andrew sat there in the chair and actually almost fell into a trance.  The
day on the road gang, the punishment session, and now this enforced
confession was so overwhelming that his mind simply went into the
withdrawal mode.

He was drawn out of his reverie by the sound to the key in the door and the
door's opening.  At the door were two of the officers from the jail, in
their military like uniform and massive boots.  "You've had enough rest
shit head!" the first one through the door announced, and the second one
announced, "You are needed to do your job as the toilet slave, and the
sooner we get you back there on duty the happier the guard staff will be.
We have been cussed out by several guards who actually had to use toilet
paper after their shit. You are needed NOW!"

With this last comment the two went to work on the straps that had held me
on the chair, and order Andrew up.  Andrew was all too ready to leave this
place, even if it meant tongue cleaning officers' butts.  There certainly
was degradation in that occupation but that was less than the pain and
defeat he had suffered in that chair.  Andrew found it harder to dislodge
his butt from the plug in the chair, but with an encouraging strap across
his back as he leaned forward Andrew was able to raise himself up using his
arms and hands on the chair's steel arms and although still painful when
the largest part of the plug cleared his ass ring, he was up.

"GET NAKED!" was the next command, and Andrew responded by tearing and
ripping off his tie and jacket, and then tearing his shirt off him.  Andrew
realized that these clothes were no longer a part of his life, and being
careful to save them was not nearly as important as getting them off his
body before he felt further encouragement from a prison strap.  He almost
succeeded, but was somewhat proud that his back received only one
additional blow from the strap.

Andrew was now in his prisoner clothes – his collar.  Andrew awaited the
next order, and indeed it came immediately "Drop and follow."  Andrew went
to all fours, and as his lead was snapped onto his collar he began another
of the precipitous dashes down the halls.  We had not gone far when another
set of boots appeared in front of the little parade.  These boots however
were gleaning in spit and polish splendor.

"Is that 756?" a deep and very authoritative voice asked.

"SIR yes SIR" was the snappy and in unison reply.  "SIR we are taking him
back to latrine duty in the main guard latrine, SIR.  Andrew trembled a bit
because a freeman who could make guards call him "SIR," and in such a
clearly differential tone, was only someone who could alter his life in
major ways and no changes had been good for him since he had become a
prisoner.

"I have taken 897 and put him into the latrine, and 756 is to go with me to
his trial."

"TRIAL!" Andrew thought.  His confession was only a few minutes old.  He
remembered the old phrase that "Justice Delayed is Justice Denied."  Andrew
was pretty sure that instant justice was not too great of an idea either.
Andrew however was not a party in the consideration of this issue.  If his
trial was ready to begin, Andrew would be there.  Andrew's next thought
that at present his total clothing was only his slave collar. That thought
of his appearance like that in court was almost enough for him to smile,
but he was already too well trained to betray a smile at ANY comment made
by a free person.

Andrew felt his leash being transferred to the superior officer, and as he
expected, he was pulled at a furious pace.  He mentally thought that if
these free men were smart, they would realize that he could travel more
easily and satisfactorily if he were allowed to walk.  But as his collar
was choking him as he traveled as fast as hands and knees could take him,
his comfort or even his ability to serve THEM was irrelevant.  He existed
only to serve.  Andrew's mind went into its normal inner space when reality
was too painful or ridiculous, and his present dash down a hallway was
both.  He began thinking of the pure lack of structural possibility that a
human being could move quickly on hands and knees.  Perhaps at some time in
the evolution of man, crawling was a mode used for transportation, but
adaptation had made crawling a very poor choice for speed.

Suddenly this dash came to an end, and Andrew waited, now panting as a dog,
for his next involuntary return to primitiveness.  However, when the door
opened he was not pulled headlong but pulled slowly into this room and
toward a wall. "NOSE AND TOES SHITHEAD" came the command. Immediately he
rose and spread his hands out and made sure that his nose and toes all were
firmly against the wall, but that the rest of his body did not touch.

"Here asshole.  Put th1s on for court."

I turned and saw an old fashioned orange jump suit.  It was not clean.
Actually it looked as if its previous wearer had been in some sort of major
fight, and lost badly.  Andrew made no comment, but put his legs through
the pants legs, and discovered itchy scaly patches down the inside of the
legs.  Andrew then knew that several persons who had worn this orange
jumpsuit had ejaculated down the pants legs, and that having never been
cleaned, his was to share in their contributions.

When Andrew pulled up the suit he found the inside to be dampish, and
guessed that the poor person wearing this orange mark of shame previously
had perspired enough to permeate the material.  Now it was Andrew's turn to
wear his orange jump suit of criminals into court.

"You may walk into court from here slime." Was the cold comment, followed
by "Turn and follow."  All he saw was the man's broad back as he now walked
on two legs into the court to have his fate confirmed in response to his
confession.  As he moved to his moment in court, he noted that his body
heat was at least making the inside of his orange badge of subservience
less clammy on his bare skin.

In a few turns and hallways, Andrew arrived at a door.  THE MAN turned and
Andrew was amazed that he recognized the cold eyes staring at him.  It was
one of his students from only four or five years earlier.  But those eyes
staring at him gave him no comfort.  They were the glaring eyes of an
avenger.

"I see you recognize me" Shaun said.  "I often wondered if you just did not
care about the pain your put downs caused, or that you knew and enjoyed
your power to make people cringe.  I asked to escort you to your
sentencing, and I truly hope you see justice for the pain you have caused."

Andrew did indeed begin to understand that comments he thought were clever
and humorous, were actually cruel and harmful.  He knew that the trial and
verdict would begin to start erasing his debt of self absorption.

Andrew's hands were pulled down and securely handcuffed behind his back,
and then Shaun opened the door and Andrew looked at a courtroom turning to
look at him.

He saw the prosecutor and at least four more of his former students all
looking at him with a decidedly smug look of revenge.  One of them was
Kevin, and the others included athletes that he had enjoyed "lowering their
over inflated opinions of themselves."  Andrew was quite sure that they
would be prepared to swear whatever was necessary to convict him.

Shaun took a killer grip on his arm and led Andrew directly in front to the
judge.  It was Judge Van Matre, a bridge playing buddy of Andrew's However
when Judge Van Matre glared down at Andrew from the bench, it was with
contempt and loathing that showed Andrew no favortism would come from those
lips.

"I am appalled by this confession, and from the deception that you
perpetrated on your friends as you talked about the moral weaknesses of
those who allowed drugs to dominate their lives.  Now we see you to be the
pompous bastard that many behind your back said you were."  Judge Van Matre
said solemnly – if the word "bastard" could be considered as ever
possibly uttered solemnly.

"Do you deny any of this confession?" the Judge asked.  "I see that the
prosecutor has had you initial every page, but in open court, I want to
hear you state that you have read this entire document and that you assert
its accuracy."

Andrew thought "Now is my chance."  Then he realized why those former
students were there.  If he recanted the confession, they would state he
had also perverted their youth, and when Andrew glanced over to the
prosecution table, Andrew recognized the boxes of his toys and his
magazines, and Andrew knew he could not swear these items were not his, and
three witnesses would be swearing he had coerced them into gay bondage and
discipline and gay sexual acts.  Those claims would seal his fate as
securely as the drug confession.  The result of Andrew's analysis of his
situation resulted in Andrew's voice stating "Judge I read every page and
every word, and by my initials I admit that all statements in the
confession are true."

"The court having read this confession, and having it verified by the
defendant, therefore sentences the defendant in penile servitude for life.
The court further stipulates that the convict may be leased under
provisions of Servitude Conditions 1.  Court is in recess.  Remove this
convict from my sight."  Judge Van Matre pounded the gavel, and turned away
without another look at Andrew.

Shaun yanked Andrew's arms again and propelled him through the door he had
entered only minutes before.  But there was a difference.  Now Andrew was a
convicted criminal sentenced to a life of penile servitude.  His life was
now permanently on a different path than one he had been following only two
days before.  Once again Andrew ruminated on a crumpled sheet of paper, and
a puerile desire to make some chain gang road slave get a punishment had
changed his entire life.  Andrew knew deep down that his selfish act to
needlessly harm someone he felt beneath him was responsible for beginning
this train of events that now made him equal to or probably below that
chain gang prisoner slave.

Once through the door, Shaun smiled at Andrew.  "Well I never expected
that!  We were expecting old Judge Van Matre to give you a Category 2 or 3
servitude order, but 1 is better than we ever expected.  In case you don't
keep up slave code (Not the proper term, but it is what everyone calls the
laws that govern what a lease holder may use the leased prisoners and how
severely they may be disciplined.  The proper term for these laws is "Acts
Governing the Proper Governance and Motivation of Prisoners on Long Term
Lease Agreements," and under Category 1, your lease holder (owner) can make
you do anything, can use any amount of corporal motivation and punishment,
and if you happen to die under the whip, only a simple form is required
which states that the prisoner died while serving as a Category 1 Convict,
and that the Lease Holder had proper motivation to instigate the
punishment, or require the Category 1 Convict to perform that task.  Andrew
your life will now be under the whip, in heavy chains, doing the shit jobs
even other slaves can not be legally made to do."

Again Andrew got "THE SMILE."  "ENJOY" was the last comment Shaun made as
he allowed Andrew to be hauled rapidly down the hall to begin his new
painful life.

Andrew followed in a true dream-like fog.  He had expected that he would be
a Category 3 or 4 and in his dreams a Category 5 convict.  As Category 5
punishments had to be fairly light and work assignments were limited to
more intellectual work than physical labor.

Shaun yelled, "Is the truck for the Slave Training Center still here?  I
want to get this pile of shit on it if possible.  I want him to begin his
new life immediately, and not just on the pansy jobs we have here."  To
Andrew licking toilets and butts was not a pansy job, but he was also sure
he would soon learn the new level of jobs.

Another officer yelled back, "It's still here, and I radioed for it to
wait." Andrew just followed his lead.  Andrew was pulled at almost a run
down the maze of hallways again, and finally he arrived at a familiar area,
the room just inside the door to the loading dock.  When Andrew and Shaun
arrived in the room, there was a group of four guards waiting on their
arrival.

"SIR we have news for you before you load this slaveboi on the truck SIR.
Away from the court no one referred to prisoners as indentured or leased
prisoners.  Everyone called it as everyone saw it... These persons were
slaves.

Andrew did his slaveboi behavior of standing and looking at the floor, and
waiting what he would be told to do.  He had mentally processed that he
would never make decisions or have any input in his fate from the moment
that the gavel fell moments before.





Chapter 9

You Can Go Home Again


Andrew concentrated on the concrete floor of the loading dock, and was just
marginally aware of the animated conversations and the laughter that was
coming from the group of guards.  His resignation to his fate might have
surprised, no absolutely amazed the Andrew of two days before.  In Andrew's
mind there seemed to be a continuous loop re-playing the moment he heard
the words "...leased under provisions of Servitude Conditions 1."  Andrew
was actually a different person now, and would have looked with genuine
horror and disgust at the self-centered inconsiderate supercilious Andrew
of many years before.  Looking at life from the bottom of the ladder does
give perspective.

Now Andrew wished he would have lived his former life differently, but that
of course was a fantasy wish.  Now Andrew was trying to come to some degree
of understanding about the enormity of the possibilities that would
dominate the rest of his life.  He could be ordered into dangerous work and
given minimal safety protection.  He could be punished in any way, for any
reason, and for no reason.  There was no Indentured Convict Authority (ICA)
officer who would ever randomly check on whether this indentured convict
was being treated under the restrictions of its classification.  Andrew had
no restrictions.  Andrew suddenly felt a thought coming into his mind that
surprised him, and in a sense calmed him.  Andrew hoped that he would be
put in danger, and that hopefully a quick death would follow.  The idea of
years of brutal treatment and continual degradation seemed worse than the
relief that death would give him.

"Dreaming of the fun times ahead?" Shaun's menacing voice came behind his
head. Andrew knew he had to respond to a question from a MASTER but could
not tell the truth, and so opted "SIR just trying to imagine my future
SIR."

"Well asswipe (Andrew inwardly smiled as indeed asswipe had been his most
recent job.) I have good news for you."  Andrew knew if Shaun thought it
was good news that it would not be good for him.

"When notice was posted on the county's indentured servant register of your
being a Category 1 servant, there was a lot of interest in buying your
lease.  It seems that many of your former students remember you well, and
would love to return to you some of the joy they felt on your classes.  The
judge authorized an immediate auction, and I know you're going to be happy
to know your lease has been purchased, and the lease owner has even waived
your attendance at the training center.  I believe your owner said he would
be happy to give you a personal course in `PROPER SLAVE BEHAVIOR 101.'  So,
you will not be going on the truck to the center, but we will put you on a
slave transport to your new owner, and you can be slaving away yet TODAY.
Aren't you thrilled?"

Andrew could not decide if that question was rhetorical or not, but he was
sure that whatever he decided would be considered the wrong answer, and so
he tried a finesse.  He nodded.

Shaun smiled that smile of the cat that has the mouse just where it can be
pounced upon and eaten.  "DO YOU CONSIDER A NOD AS A PROPER RESPONSE TO A
MASTER'S OR FREE MAN'S QUESTION SLAVE?"  Andrew bowed his head even more,
and said as loudly as he felt it was safe to raise his voice to one of the
millions of free men who were now superior to him.  "SIR this slaveboi is
very sorry that it did not respond properly, SIR.  SIR please correct this
slave so it can improve."  Andrew almost did not know where this answer
came from.  Then he remembered seeing one of those documentaries on
television that gave a sanitized version of slave (indentured convict)
training at the Training Center, and he remembered thinking with a sneer
that no real human would ask for punishment and act thankful to receive it.
That piece of wisdom was now replaced by anther and that was that he hoped
this subservient answer would make his punishment less severe.  That Andrew
would be punished was a given.

"Good answer shit head.  There may be hope for you.  Bend over and receive
your reminder swats."

"SIR yes SIR" Andrew promptly replied.

Andrew turned and presented his ass to Shaun, and as so often happened to
Andrew, he thought of the situation as funny.  Instead of looking on his
face, this superior god of his life instead was facing his naked ass.
Andrew carefully kept his face immobile even though Shaun could not
possible see it.  A wise slaveboi knows that another free person could see
his smile, and immediately inform Shaun that his slave was making fun of
him, and Andrew could be certain that he would receive more and even more
sever strokes of the punishment strap, which he could assume all free
persons he would ever be around now would have at the ready to beat
obedience into him.

"Count them out fuckwad" Shaun ordered.  Andrew's mind again wondered as he
mentally noted a new insulting term for slavebois.  Perhaps Andrew would
amuse himself by remembering all these terms, and alphabetize them in his
head as a means of preserving some mental acuity.

This resolve ended in an extremely hard caress of a slave strap across his
butt, but instead of screaming in pain, his brain did an over-ride and his
verbal response was "One SIR, Thank you SIR, for helping this fuckwad
receive instruction to improve its service, SIR. May this fuckwad receive
another SIR?"  Andrew again made a mental note to thank that PBS
documentary for these phrases stored in his subconscious.

When Shaun got to ten, with Andrew's response remaining the same.  At ten
Shaun said, "I think ten will be enough.  You will soon have to deal with
your permanent MASTER, and I know he will want to introduce himself to your
body in a memorable way."

Andrew's body was trying to adjust to its new reality.  His body was still
recovering from his punishment session and, miracle balm or not, his skin,
his muscles and his mind were tender and traumatized by each stroke.  Since
Andrew had not received an order to move, he remained in position, and
awaited his next order – still mooning the freemen standing behind him
he mused to his amusement.

"On all fours." was his order, and Andrew immediately dropped down on his
tenderized and bruised knees.  Again his lead was brought taught, and led
him off toward another direction.  He did not know where, but he was moving
down the concrete of the loading bay.  After about twenty feet, he was
brought to a choking stop.  "STAY" was his order, and Andrew stayed exactly
as he was when his forward motion stopped, and that was with one hand and
one leg ahead of the others in preparation of making a step forward.  There
was a pause, and then in that smug voice Andrew had learned already to fear
and to hate Shaun snarled, "You may think that you can fool all of us by
this playacting of slave obedience, but your owner and many others will be
around always to give you all the strokes to make you a true non-thinking
whip-smart slave."  Andrew hated that he was completely sure that the whip
would erase his mind and instill a robot-like obedience and sub mentality
that would turnoff his rational brain, just as Shaun said.  Andrew again
marveled at the fierce intellect that Shaun was showing.  It was as if
Shaun had a link into Andrew's brain.  Andrew's second thought was that
experience in breaking humans into slave animals allowed Shaun, and
probably all who would now controlled his life to measure his progress to a
whip-smart obedient and focused slave who would only think of its service
to his owner and all free persons.  Andrew found this thought both scary
and comforting.  Part of Andrew wanted to move into the mindless slave
brain which he anticipated would make it easier to live his slave life.

Andrew kept his eyes focused on the concrete in front of him although he
really wanted to look around.  It was not too long until another set of
shoes, not highly polished but scuffed and worn was in front of him.  He
felt his lead being handed off, and his head was again yanked forward, but
this time toward to edge of the concrete, but at the end was a steel floor
of a small van.  The lead took him inside and there he saw four steel
cages.  The two on the top already had slave animals locked inside, and
soon a hand appeared and opened the left cage's door, and Andrew moved
toward it. "TURN ARONND AND BACK IN SHIT-FOR BRAINS" Again Andrew's brain
wandered, and made a mental note that for some reason free persons seem to
associate slaves with assholes and products associated with assholes.
Andrew mused to himself that a study of terms used as generic names for
slaves would be an interesting etymological treatise.

Andrew turned around without sharing his lexical insight with the freeman,
to whom Andrew still felt intellectually superior, since it was clear that
the driver was not blessed with either great intellect nor great education.
Again slavedar seemed to communicate to the driver which amazed Andrew.

"You may think that you are some big important shit, and maybe you were
before the collar came on, but now you are just another mindless slave."
Andrew backed into the cage, and a hand came down and locked the cage door.
Andrew did feel the humiliation of being caged like a dog.

As soon as the door was locked the driver commanded the slave above Andrew
"Baptize this baby slave, turd head."  Almost immediately Andrew felt warm
and pungent slave piss flow over him from above, and then that stream was
joined by another really rank explosion from the driver.  "There, you are
baptized, and remember slave, the free man you might once have been
superior to is now able to piss all over you, and even give you punishment
for not thanking me for the bath.  Andrew started to begin his litany of
"SIR thank you..." but was cut off by the curt command "SILECE."

"Put your front paws through the bars palm up." the driver ordered, and of
course Andrew did as ordered.  Down a slave strap came on this palms, and
Andrew found another part of his body that had a rich supply of nerve
endings to tell his brain about pain.  Andrew wondered if he was to
respond, but decided that his most recent command was silence, and so he
concentrated mostly on keeping from screaming , and overcoming his brain's
message to his hands to draw back from exposure to that pain giving piece
of leather.

After five blows on that tender skin of his palms, Andrew's hands
throbbed. "Keep a proper attitude slave or you are going to hurt until you
learn your place."  Andrew still followed the command for silence, and to
his relief that decision seemed to be correct, and the driver retreated and
slammed and locked the doors of the van and Andrew's journey to his slave
home began.

Not much happened on the trip. When the van hit bumps, slaves were slammed
into the cages' bars, as well as when the van stopped and started.  It was
not a comfortable trip for slaves, but looking out for slaves' comfort was
simply such a preposterous idea that no one seemed interested in even
considering it.  There was a stop and the driver came around and unlocked
the two top cages, and then attached a little ramp onto the top of Andrew's
and the empty cage, and when the ramp was in front of the unlocked and
opened door the stave hurried down the ramp, and then was ordered to stand
and then step down off the van.  The driver then locked the cage doors and
also hopped off the back of the van and again it slammed shut.

The last part of the trip did not seem to last much longer after the other
two slaves were delivered.  Andrew felt the van come to a stop, and just
barely heard some conversation before the van's door was again opened and
Andrew could not keep from looking forward and out to see where he was
fated to live.  Andrew looked at a prison like series of razor wire and
fifteen foot high fences, and in the distance prisoner slaves in steel
collars and wrist and ankle shackles slaving away in a field with a guard
on horseback watching them carefully.  The gate set up reminded him of
Kevin's farm he had visited just two days before.  And Andrew wondered if
all prisoner slave farms were required to have this sort of perimeter
security.  Andrew again mused that these prisoners probably dreamed of the
good old days when they were stored in prisons and slept or socialized most
of the day.  Now they labored under the whip for at least a fourteen hour
day.  Today these thoughts were much more personal than his musings were
two days ago.  There is nothing like being a prisoner slave to change one's
perspective.


The driver hopped up, and seemed to be even more jovial then before. As he
unlocked Andrew's cage, he ordered "Hurry up asshole.  You have a bunch of
free men who want to welcome you to your new home!"  Andrew again knew that
this information could only mean pain and suffering, and as his lead was
grabbed had he was ordered to stand and hop out he involuntarily stopped. A
ready slave strap moved him forward and off the van and into the middle of
the guards at the gate of Kevin's farm – THE FARM.  He realized he was
going to be a slave owned by Kevin, and now he was going to be a slave
welcomed to slavery by the very guards he had insulted two days ago.
"Shit" Andrew said to himself, giving into the terms most often applied to
himself.

Andrew immediately dropped to all fours and his paperwork was completed,
and involuntarily he shivered in fear.  The hatred he felt coming from that
circle of shoes and the man who wore the shoes was tangible.

The driver left and Andrew now found himself in the middle of this group of
guards.  He remembered just two days ago he had arrogantly insulted them
and flaunted his superior station and intelligence.  He took advantage of
their limited vocabulary.  Now Andrew was sure that paybacks were going to
be hell.

The silence only served to increase his fear into the beginnings of terror.
These men may not have had all his degrees and vocabulary, but they were
experts in how to handle and to dominate a slaveboi, and right at this
moment those skills were Andrew's biggest concern.

Finally a voice from behind him said quietly, menacingly, and angrily,
"When we heard you were coming to join us here on the Farm we asked Master
Kevin if we could not make sure you started your time here on THE FARM in a
perfectly infandous way.  Andrew knew that these men would make his life
"too odious to mention." and he deeply regretted in retrospect his decision
to mock them with this obscure word.

"We are going to play some slave games with you, you piece of crap." the
voice informed Andrew now newly christened "piece of crap."

With slow cadence as one would talk to a child, menace mouth explained.  "A
slave must learn by feel the individual style of each of its immediate
superiors, and so we are going to let you play and learn.  The first round
each of us will give you, shit head, a sample stroke of a slave strap, and
then say the name the guard uses in dealing with the piece of crap brained
slave. I will demonstrate.  Andrew felt a vicious stroke across his thighs,
just where his ass cheeks stopped and his leg began.  "Infandous" is my
name intoned the guard.  Andrew did not move as no one had ordered him to
move, but he saw that the circle of guards moved clockwise around him.
Another blow came across his back, just where his butt began to bubble out,
and Andrew marveled that there was a difference in how the blow was
applied.  "Striker" was the name of the second guard, and his stroke had a
little extra tingle just at the tip of the strap.  Around the circle went
with guard's names of "Punisher, Enforcer, Beater," and "Motivator."
Andrew was learning new skills that he would need in his new life, and he
could indeed recognize that there were differences in each guard's stroke
across all parts of his body. Some seemed to have a bit of an angle in the
blow, either to the right or the left, and others were square on his body,
but there was a variety of how long the strap remained motionless allowing
Andrew's skin to absorb the pain, and other were quickly drawn away.
Andrew was then blindfolded and the rain of blows began.  He only got two
right the first round, and he actually lost track of how many rounds made
his body black and blue to achieve this skill.

After the guards were through with this game, Andrew's lead was
re-attached, and he was told to stand on two legs.  His hands were chained
to his collar, and his lead handed up to "Infandous" who was mounted on a
real horse.  "Dog Shit keep your eyes on my magnificent stallion's tail,
and you follow where it leads.  If my stallion decides to defecate, you are
required to pick up each horse apple and either stuff it up your slave butt
or eat it. However in no way can these valuable pieces emanating from this
valuable and noble animal be allowed to just lie unappreciated on the
ground.  Certainly this is true when there is a lower-the-horse-shit slave
in tow to properly stow these gifts from a superior animal.  Do you
understand shit head?"

"SIR YES SIR," Andrew answered.  Andrew again responded and offered a
silent prayer that this stallion would not decide to share its essence with
such a lowly slave as the former Andrew.

Andrew was indeed favored by some entity because as Andrew followed with
his compete attention focused on the stallion's tail, and with true fear
that the tail would rise and he would be required to stoop and stuff each
horse dropping as he was pulled along in a slow gate by the rider.

Andrew was also relieved when horse rider and slave all passed Barn 6.
However on the other side of Barn 6 Andrew's relief turned to fear as he
found himself looking at the tail rising and a blacksmith's station both
appearing at once to make him know that two things he feared, eating or
stuffing horse shit, and having his collar, wrist, and ankle cuffs and
chains permanently attached to his body, no not his any more, the slave
body that belonged to MASTER KEVIN.  Andrew stooped down and picked up the
horse apples, and bending over while still walking, stuffed them up his
butt hole.  Andrew realized that his hands were now thoroughly covered with
horse shit, but the fastidious Andrew that would have screamed at this
situation was gone, and the Andrew that was thankful that it was his butt
hole stuffed with horse shit and not his mouth was the slave following and
concentrating on a horses ass.  Andrew mused that stuffing horse shit up
his ass perhaps turned him into a horse's ass himself.

The horse stopped, Andrew stopped, and the rider looked down at Andrew and
then behind Andrew and nodded in acknowledgement that the guard knew his
stallion had shit, and that there was no shit on the path.  Then the guard
dismounted, grabbed Andrew's lead, and Andrew followed into the
blacksmith's to receive his slave clothes of collar, and ankle and wrist
cuffs.

When they arrived at the forge, the guard turned to Andrew.

"Well professor" he sneered, "now I am going to give you an education in
your new life.  All slaves but one category get steel collars and snapped
around their collars are plastic bands with different colors designated the
category the slave is.  Category 5 slaves have green bands; category 4 have
brown; category 3 have yellow, and category 2 have red.  But category 1
slaves get a black set of blackened steel collar, and wrist and ankles
cuffs.  Category 1 slaves can be differentiated at a distance, so a
category 1 slave can always be used and disciplined easily."

Andrew knew not to look the guard in his face, and absorbed this
information silently, although inwardly he again knew fear.  His status as
a slave that any free person could use with no restriction would be
recognized easily, at a distance, and would make sure Andrew would always
be a first choice for the worst assignments, and to receive a
no-questions-asked punishment.

"Slave get your ass over to the blacksmith for him to give you your
markings and your black steel clothes." the guard ordered.  Andrew moved
forward toward a giant man whose muscles rippled over his arms, legs and
torso.

The blacksmith indicated where Andrew was to stand, and he went off,
returning with his collars and cuffs.