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Convicted And Enslaved For Life (Mark Andrews)


Convicted And Enslaved For Life by Mark Andrews

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I was convicted and sentenced to slavery for life. Legally, I knew I hadnít a leg to stand on but my so-called girlfriend set me up and had even arranged witnesses.

This is the story of my transition to slave and what happened to me as a consequence.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 5 / 2016

No. words: 34650

Style: Male Dom - M/M, Fem Dom - F/M

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

My name is Scott Middleton and I am (or was) a twenty-one year old law student at Cambridge. My girlfriend (I thought), Angela Barnes was two years younger and an Arts student.
I was quite stupid but I thought she loved me Ė as it turned out she had courted me with the sole intention of framing me and then watching in glee as I was turned into a slave Ė and all because of a grudge held by her mother against my father.
As he had lost touch with the woman, he had no idea whom she had married and thus didnít connect Angela to her. It seemed he had fallen out of love with her and although they werenít betrothed, she had felt scorned (beware a woman scorned?) and had built the matter up until it had become the biggest thing in her life. She had confided it to her daughter who then decided to avenge her motherís slight by my father Ė through me.
Of course I didnít discover this until later and when, while we were making love in her bed and I was about to come, and she screamed ďSTOPĒ, I was powerless to do so. My ejaculation had already started and while I tried my damnedest to pull out of her, of course it was impossible.
And to make matters worse, just then, when her two girlfriends had burst into the room and screamed ĎRAPISTí at me, I knew something was terribly wrong. They later told the police I had made no attempt to cease my actions once their friend had realised this was all wrong and despite all my explanations and protestations that I had indeed tried to pull out of her, it was just too late, the police told me I would be charged with rape and that was that.

Once I had made the obvious decision to plead guilty, I knew there was no hope of anything but slavery and probably for life and so I disposed of all my belongings, said goodbye to tearful parents (who still had no more idea than I did as to why this had all happened). I dressed simply in a shirt and tie, trousers and shoes (no underwear or socks) for I well knew the procedure once a prisoner had been convicted and sentenced.
Perhaps here a word about the institution of modern slavery. It had been reintroduced around the middle of the 21st Century as the answer to worldwide religious terrorism and a growth in the crime rate that now seemed unstoppable Ė and it had been a near instant success. The terrorists melted away at the thought of being forced to perform ultra-hard-labour naked out in the public eye for twelve to fifteen hours a day, every day of the year. And serious crime was also decimated.
Not that it wiped out either category entirely and as all offences except the most minor now attracted slavery as a penalty, the number of slaves around the world rose commensurately.
But there was also another underlying reason for it: the world population was now over seven billion and food production had not kept up. Secret discussions among world leaders included ways and means of reducing the demands on available food and someone mentioned that there are over eleven million prisoners of one kind or another worldwide. If prisoners became slaves a very much cheaper means of feeding them from waste materials would release that amount of food into the general stream and research began into how to harvest waste food of all descriptions and process it into a form that would be easy to transport and issue and require no cooking or messing facilities.
Slave Chow was the result. Iím not going into the details of how waste food was collected and converted into the Slave Chow pellets but thatís what happened Ė worldwide. The product was marketed in kilogram paper bags, fifty kilo sacks and in bulk for large slaveholders.
Eleven million worldwide may sound significant but it wasnít enough and so programs were recommended and adopted in just about all the nations on the planet to limit children to one per couple. And from that year on, the world population again began to decline
Anyway, to get back to my trial, the judge, while sympathetic to my pleading guilty and my obvious remorse, informed me that the crime of rape had but one sentence: slavery for life and that was what he now pronounced.
The bailiff then moved up to me and advising me not to resist, tore open my shirt (there was no attempt to unbutton it), removed my tie and after ordering me to take off my shoes, then undid my pants and dropped them to my feet.
I was now naked before the whole court and while I had been preparing myself for this very outcome, I blushed right down to my neck as they all stared at my body.
I was lucky to be blessed with a good brain and a sportsmanís body and had done well academically and at all sports. But gymnastics was my favourite and I had competed in that discipline and while I was certainly not Olympic class, I did do quite well at school and university competitions.
Anyway, as you may know, gymnastics builds superbly athletic bodies and mine was no exception. Now, as I stood in the open-fronted dock of the central court in the Old Bailey, everyone there openly ogled my muscles and my rather large genital equipment.
Here again it was something I had inherited. My penis measures twenty-five centimetres slack and is fifteen centimetres in circumference. And when itís hard, you can add another couple to its length although I donít think it gets any thicker.
My testicles are also rather larger than average and hang in a slightly pendulous scrotum. I am not boasting about these statistics. I was born that way and that is that. But I knew that both my physique and my sexual equipment meant that the gay fraternity would be taking a marked interest in my body when I was put up for auction on Saturday.
I was dreading being shown off on the intervening days and being made to strut and pose for them as well as possible female buyers prior to the actual sale for I have always had a dread of a man touching me in a sexual way. I was once felt and fondled when I was thirteen years old and the experience has left me with a real fear of homosexuals.
But I also knew that in this day and age, when homosexuality was now not only legal, but was accepted as perfectly normal, a slave, (who has no right of denial to anything Ė anything at all Ė that his or her owner may demand of him), must submit to any and all weird and wonderful sexual use and so I now decided that I had to put all my old fears behind me and if I was unfortunate enough to be bought by a gay man, I would just have to learn how to accommodate his horrible advances and to show no distaste for any of it, no matter how much I might loathe and fear it still, deep down.
As it turned out, it was even worse than I had expected, but first all the slaves convicted that day had to be transferred from the Old Bailey to the State Slave Centre (SSC) where all slaves from the various courts all over southern England were marketed once a week on Saturday morning.
To transfer us, they used a semitrailer called a slave transport vehicle, STV for short, and it had to be about the most shameful thing I could have imagined. This was one aspect of slavery I had not known about as we didnít live near the SSC or courts and I lived-in at Cambridge. Its tray is surmounted with a long gantry (from front to back) situated in the centre line. This is comprised of two, three-metre high braced steel poles to the tops of which have been welded a steel rail on which are suspended three dozen runners to which are attached a set of thumb-cuffs.
It had backed in to the loading bay in the watchhouse yard under the courts and as we were led out to be secured to it, I stared in horror at the slaves already hanging up on that rail for the STV had already done the rounds of other courts. We were herded on to the tray and in turn were made to climb up onto the box under the next empty runner and raise our arms to have our thumbs locked into the neoprene-lined cuffs and then pushed forward to bump into the slave ahead, until each of us was now dangling with our feet a good half metre up from the floor of the tray.
The semitrailerís diesel engine now roared to life and it inched out of the bay and through the gates at the back where waited hundreds of men and women eager to see this dayís new slaves hanging naked and ashamed from the gantry.
I stared down at them in horror, wondering how people could derive such pleasure from our misery and shame. But then of course, I understood. Down through the centuries, man has always delighted in othersí woes. It is human nature at its worst but it is there.
The journey took about an hour during which we traversed Londonís streets and were subjected to more of the stares and laughter of the public on its way home for the night. I thought ruefully that I had already had my last of such journeys and that my life as a lawyer and as a free man was now over. What I was facing was very uncertain but whatever it was, I then resolved to make the most of it. That way, it might be bearable. To pine over what I had lost and could now never have again, was worse than useless.
Upon arrival at the SSC we were unloaded and herded through the arrivals bay and processed. The manifest for the load had already been sent ahead by the driver and we were ticked off it, had our testicle or clitoral chip glued to the appropriate organ (these provided them with a GPS signal by which we could be traced anywhere in the world and also a means of punishing us for they could deliver an unholy shock to the most sensitive organ in the human body).
That took only seconds (a quick slit in the scrotal wall, the chip glued to the testicle itself and then a Band-Aid over the tiny wound) but then we were herded through the slave depilation unit which permanently stripped us of all hair below our eyes so we males lost our moustaches and beards as well as all body hair. We were now nude as well as naked from our eyes down and for my part, I wasnít sorry. I thought we all looked a lot better without all that unnecessary and ugly hair.
We were then medically examined.
These days, this is done by a machine rather like an upright coffin. You have to step into it (backwards) and the glass door with its little spring loaded sensors is closed on you. There are more of the sensors at the back and sides of the machine which then performs hundreds of tests on your body.
Doctors monitor the results but these days there are few men and women who are not in good health and by and large, fine specimens for great strides have been made in medical science, diet, exercise and all the other things that go to keep a person healthy.
For example, exercise, if one doesnít wish to play sport, can be undertaken by stepping into a similar box to the medical examiner and with similar electrodes. But in this case, they tease the various muscles all over the body into exercise and ten minutes every day in such a machine is all one needs to maintain a fine physique.
Everyone makes sure they are as fit as they can be for obesity is seen almost as a crime and results in all publicly-funded medical aid being suspended.
The next stage was for us to dispose of our body wastes and if you think we might be afforded some privacy here, think again. We were broken into four lines and made to straddle one of four V-shaped troughs, squat down, holding our buttocks wide with our hands and then urinate and defecate, watching the slave in front of us attempt to do the same thing.
Most couldnít, probably due to embarrassment, but those that didnít, had to submit to a nozzle being thrust up their fundamental orifice and have a penal enema jetted up there. This contains some chemical that causes an immediate and quite involuntary passing of anything at all in the bowels in a manner as painful as I can imagine. Most of us suffered this that evening but I think every single one of those who did, resolved there and then to do it naturally when ordered. I know I did for the pain of the douching and the subsequent passage of my excreta was horrible.
We then went through what passed for showers there. The four lines moved forward slowly, each prevented from rushing forward by a horizontal bar attached to a moving chain and we then entered what looked most like one of those old-fashioned car wash machines with detergent laden jets of hot and cold water, rotating brushes which lashed at our skin and felt as if we were being flayed. But they did scrub off our dead skin and made what was left look great. That it hurt like hell was immaterial to them.
And then we were reunited into a single line that moved past the Slave Chow dispenser. All we had to do was cup our two hands together and hold them under the chute then hit the bar with our foreheads to receive our ration. We were admonished to eat it quickly as we inched forward.
I was hungry as I hadnít eaten all day but those pellets were quite tasteless. I know though, that once we had swallowed them all and had then passed into the rinsing unit we were able to drink enough water to allow the pellets to swell up in our bellies into reconstituted food and our hunger then disappeared. It wasnít eating. There was no sensation like that. We were fed Ė and thereís a difference, I can assure you.
The rinsing/drinking race is long, to allow us to take in plenty of water which is necessary to allow the pellets to re-form. And now we were headed to the sleeping room. As we entered it, I stared down at the plain concrete floor with the red lines painted on it.
These are in the form of rectangles each three metres long and half wide and were numbered. We were allocated an empty space and told to memorise its number which was now drawn onto our bellies with an indelible pen. That number was now attuned to our chips but of more immediate worry was the news that we must not permit any part of our body to move outside the line surrounding our rectangle. If we did, we would receive a five second punishment shock to our testicle (or clitoris). The second offence would earn a ten second shock Ė and so on.
As we had all been tested once the chip had been glued in place, we all knew how bad those shocks are and Iím sure each of us resolved to keep our arms and legs clear of the line.
And there we had to sleep. Naked, nude, washed and fed. Cold and shivering on the smooth bare concrete floor. No bed or bedding. Not even a blanket to wrap around our bodies and scared witless of offending the rule about moving outside our line.
What an introduction to slavery! Now that I have experienced it, I can understand the reasoning behind it. A short, sharp shock quickly gets the message across to the new slave: You are no longer a human being. You are less than an animal for no animal would be treated in this manner. You have offended against the nationís laws and you well knew the outcome of such behaviour.
In my case, no. There is no way I could physically have stopped making love to Angela at the moment of ejaculation but at that time, I had no idea why she had done it and why the two girls had lied that I had blithely continued on when it must have been obvious that I was trying my damnedest to cease and desist. But I didnít know although I had searched my mind for some reason why she had so damned me in the eyes of the world.


Author Information

a prolific BDSM writer who lives on the Gold Coast of Australia. His books have been delighting Olympia Press customers for many years and now he is one of Fiction4All's exclusive authors.

 

Publisher Information

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