Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2012 19:22:24 -0700
From: Randall Austin <randallaustin2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: What's Going On Dad? - Part 7

What's Going On, Dad?

By Randall Austin

PART SEVEN

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

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After four hours of being strapped into a steel wheelchair in an unknown
place, while naked, booted, and blindfolded, Lucas was relieved to hear
doors opening and someone approaching.

Lucas sensed someone approaching, and called out, "Who's there?"

There was no answer, but the unknown person approached Lucas from behind,
and undid his blindfold.  When it came off, the first thing Lucas noticed
was that that his ringed penis had a cord attached to it, and the other end
of the cord was attached to some kind of track work on the floor of the
building.

The unknown one put a hand on Lucas's shoulder and spoke, "Son".

Mr. Thorne started to undo the straps that secured Lucas to the wheelchair
as Lucas, relieved, called out, "Oh Daddy, what's going on?"

Lucas's father didn't answer, but instead concentrated on releasing Lucas
from the wheelchair.  Lucas looked about the room, a room that looked very
much like a medical bay of a veterinary clinic or zoo hospital.

"What is this place, Dad?"

"This is your new home son, at least for the next couple of years."

Mr. Thorne put a hand out for Lucas to grasp, and helped to pull him into a
standing position.  He then took a key to the waist strap that held in
position the painful butt plug his son was wearing, knelt down and slowly
started to pull it out.

Once it was out, Lucas sighed in relief, and Mr. Thorne asked, "Does that
feel better?"

"Oh gawd yes!"

Relieved at last to be with his son, Mr. Thorne put an arm around his son
and guided him, slowly, to start walking.

Lucas's nose ring was in an upright position, and when he looked to the
ceiling, he noticed that a cord attached to his nose ring went up to an
overhead trolley system on the ceiling of the building.

Mr. Thorne led his son to an adjacent room, as Lucas noted the tracking
system to which he was secured: he was attached to a track in the floor by
a cord attached to his penis ring, and he was attached to a trolley and
pulley system on the ceiling of the building by a cord attached to his nose
ring.

The many questions he was eager to ask were all put on hold by the warm
feeling, a warm feeling at last, of having his father's arms around him,
gently guiding him.

The next room they entered was a small kitchen pantry area, and after that
they entered a room with a desk and a bed and a love seat.  Mr. Thorne
explained: "This is your new room son.  Later today I will be bringing your
computer and many of your other belongings."

"What is this place, Dad?  Why am I here?"

Mr. Thorne turned on the desk lamp, which emitted a warm glow to the room,
and then guided his son to the love seat and invited him to sit down next
to him.

Mr. Thorne put an arm around his son.  When Lucas sat down his penis and
scrotum got scrunched up, and thus were quite obvious, "Can I have some
clothes, Dad?"

Mr. Thorne did a gentle nod of his head indicating that Lucas could not
have some clothes.  "Son, your behavior in recent years has been troubling.
When I had you take those personality evaluation tests several months ago,
the results were sent to a state analyst, and the results were troubling to
me: they indicated that you were very likely to reoffend.  Son, the thought
of having you end up in prison was too painful for me to ponder.  So I
thought long and hard about what would be best for our family.  And I
decided, Lucas, to have you enslaved – for life."

A pained expression came over Lucas, as he struggled with his emotions.

Mr. Thorne continued, "Son, you were officially enslaved 5 weeks ago.
Those two state parole agents who were working with and on you for the past
several weeks were doing so on behalf of the State Social Services System.
My advisor at Social Services told me it would be best for you if I didn't
tell you of your status until the purchase of this, my new warehouse, was
completed, because this is where you will be housed for the next couple of
years."

Lucas, horrified, started crying, "You lied to me, Dad.  You out rightly
lied to me.  You said you would never have a son of yours enslaved!"

Mr. Thorne hugged his son tightly, "Lucas, I did not lie.  The last couple
of hours, before I came here, I spent with your brother, Robin.  He cried
out loud when I told him that I had you enslaved for life and was very
angry with me.  He called me a liar.  But I explained: what I told you
several times was that I would never consider selling you into servitude.
And I didn't.  I did not sell you, I have made no profit on you, and I
never will sell you for the rest of your life.  You see, Lucas, you are now
our family slave.  You are now the slave of Robin and me.  And you will be
so forever."

Lucas cried out loud, unbelieving, as Mr. Thorne continued to hug him
tightly, "I love you son, that's why I did this.  My love is the only
reason."

Mr. Thorne gently patted Lucas's face, "And I have ensured you will always
be our family slave.  When I die you will become the property of Robin, and
he is not legally permitted to sell you.  If something should happen to
Robin, you will then become the property of Uncle Hildebrand.  And if he
should die, you would then become the property of his son, Timothy.  And
should something happen to Timothy, you would then be the property of the
state, which would rent you out only for domestic service."

Through his tears Lucas wondered, "If I am a family slave, then why am I
here."

"Son, I bought this warehouse specifically with you in mind.  As you know,
I was in need of more warehouse space, and this place came up for sale at
the same time the State was asking me to consider putting you up for
indenturement.  This warehouse was previously a facility that was staffed
by a large slave population.  And whenever there is a situation where there
are lots of slaves, and relatively few overseers, the track and trolley
system, to which you are now attached by your nose and penis rings, is a
handy and humane way to control the slave population."

Lucas was sarcastic, "What's so humane about rigging me up like an animal?"

"Yes, let me explain.  Unlike the previous owner of this warehouse, you
will be my only slave working here.  But remember, you are a slave now, and
there are a lot of things you will need to learn about proper behavior.
During the first few years of your enslavement, I want you to get
accustomed to a disciplined work environment.  You have to learn to work
hard and be obedient.  This way, all hooked up to the track and trolley, I
figured your overseers won't have to discipline you very often, since you
won't be able to get into too much trouble.  I want you to get your
training on the job, away from home.  Then once I feel you are behaving
properly and have accepted your status, I will have you come home and be
our `at home' domestic."

"Now because Mr. Jackson, my warehouse foreman, your brother Robin, and
cousin Timothy will be your chief overseers, I want them having to keep an
eye on you be their full time jobs.  That's why the track and trolley
system.  This way you can only be at the work stations you're supposed to
be at, doing the things you're supposed to be doing.  We can rig the
trolley system so that it only allows you to go where we want you to go.
And the reason this is a humane system for a new slave, it means you won't
be tempted to sneak off where you aren't supposed to, thus saving your hide
from beating."

Lucas looked frightened, "Beating?  You're going to let Mr. Jackson beat
me?"

"Not just Mr. Jackson, son.  Robin too."

Lucas was aghast, "Dad, that ain't right!"

"Lucas, listen to me.  I wouldn't let your brother and cousin have control
over you if they weren't prepared.  This was all planned ahead of time.  I
had both your brother and Timothy enrolled in a handler's class weeks ago.
They, of course, didn't know about it until just a couple of hours ago, and
their evening classes begin this coming Monday.  Timothy is just getting a
junior handler's permit, so he won't be allowed to administer any kind of
discipline.  But I enrolled Robin in the Level D program, and at that level
he will learn a wide range of control and discipline techniques."

Lucas only shook his head and repeated, "None of this is right, Dad!"

"Son, the way I see it is this track and trolley system will help you learn
about being a slave without having to go through some degrading county-run
slave training program."

Lucas shook his head in contempt, "If you care about `degrading', then why
I am I kept naked with my balls banded like some farm animal?"

"I know it's hard right now, son, but believe it or not, the banded balls
are for humane reasons too.  It's one of the latest techniques in humane
servant control.  Let's say you're having a bad day on the job, and you're
angry and swearing, or something like that.  With your balls banded, and
you naked, your balls are readily available for your overseers.  All
Mr. Jackson or Robin would have to do to get you to calm down is come up to
you and cup your balls.  They wouldn't actually squeeze them unless you
continued to be defiant.  It's been found that just grabbing a slave by the
balls is enough to calm a slave down and get him behaving properly.  So
what your banded balls are designed to do is to actually prevent you from
having to get your balls squeezed, or some more serious punishment.  Your
balls are banded so they can be easily grasped, and that grasping alone
usually gets a slave behaving properly."

Lucas wasn't sure what to make of such an answer.  Would he really ever
need to be disciplined by his brother or Mr. Jackson in such a humiliating
fashion?  But he was still angry, "If you care about degrading, why did you
have rings put through my nipples?"

Mr. Thorne playfully patted Lucas's shoulder, "That's going to be for
Mr. Jackson or Robin to decide.  Warehouse slaves are often kept belled by
their nipple rings.  That way a certain pattern or rhythm to the tingling
of the bells lets your overseers know if you're keeping busy.  If they
don't hear them, they'll know they might then need to look and see what
you're up to."

"But I consider Robin to be your chief overseer for now, and if he wants
your nipple rings removed, they will be removed."

Lucas was disgusted, "It ain't right that Robin has such control over me!"

Lucas made a kicking motion with his leg, "And why these yellow ear tags?"

"We have no choice there, son.  The state demands those of servitors who
are not residing at their permanent residence.  I have our home address
listed as your permanent residence.  Your yellow ear tags come off when you
return home in a couple of years."

"It's all degrading, Dad.  It ain't right they make slaves wear ridiculous
looking ear tags."

"Son such tags are only meant to protect you."

"And, Dad, why is there an operating table out there?"

"Don't worry about that son.  That was used for surgery by the previous
owner who had as many as sixty slaves working in this warehouse.  There
will be no surgery performed on you son, but I am going to keep the table
there, because I think it will handy for Robin to use when he's bathing and
shaving you, wants to decorate your body, or get your body all nice and
oiled up – for various things like that."

Mr. Thorne spoke reassuringly, "You'll get used to all of it, son."

"No I won't, Dad!  Why am I hobbled like this so that I can't touch my own
dick?"

"Son, that's going to be something for Robin to decide, whether or not you
are allowed sexual release."

Lucas was horrified, "For Robin?  Why would he be the one to decide such a
thing?"

Mr. Thorne pulled Lucas close to him so their bodies were tight against
each other's.

"Lucas, I need to let you know a little bit more about the mode of service
to which I had you indentured.  Son, you are now the family slave.  You are
registered as a personal domestic servant.  Being a personal domestic
servant entails several things, son, and this might embarrass you son, but
you're certainly old enough to face the facts of life."

"Before coming here I had a talk with your brother about your enslavement.
He did not know anything about this before today.  He loves you, and was
overjoyed to hear that you will be a daily part of our lives for the rest
of your life."

"Now as you may know, "personal service" is often an important part of a
young slaves duties.  Lucas, I know you love your brother.  And you know
that he is gay, and you have always accepted that and supported him."

"After this summer Robin will be busy with college studies, and, as you
know, the compulsion for young men to hook up with anyone available for
quick sex can have devastating consequences.  There is so much risk of
disease out there."

Lucas, uneasy, tried to shift his body.

Mr. Thorne held Lucas tightly, "Son, your brother loves you.  And during
the past five weeks he has been your major caretaker, and as such you have
pretty much already had to give up your privacy to him.  And as you know
son, the giving up of personal privacy is a normal thing for servants to
have to endure."

"I have been observing Robin in recent weeks, both as he was treating you
and monitoring you, and as he watched as the parole agents performed their
body modifications on you.  And all I can say is that I know your brother
is very attracted to you, and very turned on by you."  Lucas shook his
head, "Dad, he's my brother."

"Not quite so, at least legally.  Your status as a slave predominates your
bloodline status.  Thus, a union of two family members, one of whom is a
slave, is no longer considered incestuous."

"Dad, what are you saying?"

"I am saying that right now Robin is processing what I told him, the same
thing I am telling you right now, and he is trying to come to terms with
it.  But it is quite probable, Lucas, that Robin will eventually be
approaching you for his personal service needs."

"Dad, you're saying that I'm supposed to have sex with Robin?"

"Son, I don't know how or if Robin will use you for personal care.  But I
do want you to know that sort of as a gift to Robin, as he starts out his
college studies, I have made you available to him if he so desires."

Lucas shook his head, white-faced, with his mouth open in disbelief.
Mr. Thorne continued, "When I told him all of this, Robin was as quiet as a
mouse.  So I am sure he is dealing with many conflicting feelings right
now."

"But son, don't worry!  What is important right now is that Robin and I
love you more than ever, and you belong to us!  And what you are doing for
Robin and me, in giving up your life to serve us, is something for which we
will be eternally grateful.  And we plan on treating you like royalty from
now on!"

Lucas was angry, "Royalty?  Having me naked, balls banded and exposed so I
can be controlled by them, and tethered to the ceiling and floor by my nose
and cock!  That's royal treatment?  What I am is Robin's cum dump for the
rest of my life!"

Mr. Thorne was shocked.  "Lucas, honey, don't ever say that!  Listen to me.
You need to know that when a servant submits to its master for sexual
purposes, it is a sacred union.  It is no different than a young bride
offering her body to her new husband, it is held as sacred in the eyes of
all.  When a woman spreads her legs for her husband so that he might enjoy
and penetrate her, it is a sacred act: so it is for a slave who submits his
body for his master's pleasure."

"Robin is now your master.  And whether he keeps you just for himself, or
lets Timothy use you, or any of his friends, it is the same.  It is a
sacred work you will be performing in submitting to them."

Mr. Thorne and his son sat in silence.  Mr. Thorne was pleased that Lucas
was no longer crying, and was possibly even beginning to accept his status.
He wanted to offer reassurance, "Son, I am going to leave now, and I will
be back in a few hours with your computer and some more of your things.  I
will also bring Robin along.  I know that he is very concerned about you
and will probably want to see you.  He loves you, son."

"Son, while I am gone, please feel free to explore the place.  The trolley
is currently set to give you access to about 2000 feet of warehouse space.
In the next room is a refrigerator with food, and the cupboards are
stocked.  Please feel free to help yourself.  Or you may just want to
recline on your bed.  The overhead tracking/pulley system allows you to
recline.  But the tether to your penis ring will not allow you to go any
higher than four feet above the ground, so you can't use ladders or climb
very high on anything."

Mr. Thorne kissed his son on the cheek.  Whispered "I love you, son", and
left.


To be continued...


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