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How I Became A Top Slave Trainer (Mark Andrews)

How I Became A Top Slave Trainer by Mark Andrews

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I inherited a good physique from my parents and I built on that with an interest in all things sporting. Not that I neglected my other studies for these days, if you failed your final exams after you had turned eighteen, you were automatically relegated to slavery for life.

The end result was a very good final mark and a place in the physical education faculty at Queensland University. That too, I excelled at and received a number of really good offers from some top schools.

By then however, I had already decided on a completely different career. Slavery. Or rather the training of young men and women to become the absolute top of the tree in the slave markets.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 1 / 2018

No. words: 35000

Style: Male Dom - M/M, Male Dom - M/F

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


Chapter 1

I inherited a good physique from my parents and I built on that with an interest in all things sporting. Not that I neglected my other studies for these days, if you failed your final exams once you had turned eighteen, you were automatically relegated to slavery for life.
The end result in my case was a very good final mark and a place in the physical education faculty at Queensland University. That too, I excelled at and received a number of really good offers from some top schools.
By then however, I had already decided on a completely different career. Slavery. By that I mean the training of young men and women to become the absolute top of the tree in the slave markets.
Slavery had been introduced some twenty years ago as a solution to an out-of-control crime wave, a burgeoning spread of religious terrorism that seemed unstoppable and a juvenile population that was equally bent on destroying society. And the world leaders who met at the UN to resolve the three problems and decide on a solution did not muck about when they made their decisions.
Henceforth, slavery would be the penalty for all major crimes including homicides, serious assaults and especially abuse of women and children, and of course terrorism of all kinds but definitely including those based on fanatical religious beliefs. And for many cases it would be for life.
Not only that, but they made the life of a slave really hard. Clothing of any kind was forbidden. Even a tiny rag over the genitals was not on. They were to be worked long hours, in many cases at the most arduous of tasks. And their sustenance was to be limited to Slave Chow, a product that looked a little like chook pellets and was very easily manufactured from third rate meat (a small proportion only), left-over vegetables from the markets and reject grain, thus it was very cheap.
Dieticians worked out the perfect blend of these three classes of ingredients and they were fed into a series of giant hoppers which were then sealed and pressured under steam until cooked. The hoppers had internal masticators that reduced the cooked constituents to a paste and then extruded them from five-millimetre diameter nozzles, cutting them off at one-centimetre lengths and finally drying them to complete the process.
In this way, tonnes of the pellets could be produced in cities and regional centres all over the world. The final product was bagged in single kilogram paper bags, fifty kilo sacks and also stored in bulk for delivery to large slave-holding establishments where dispensing machines were mounted on the wall of the slave accommodation section and these included a huge hopper (its size depending on the number of slaves to be fed) on the outside wall that could be regularly topped up by a delivery truck.
All this happened around the time I was born so I grew up with slaves all around me and we even had one in our house as well as a gardener as my father was a corporate vice-president in charge of the Queensland operations of one of the conglomerates and we lived in a very nice house at Robina on the Gold Coast of Queensland.
Now I must turn to my sexual make-up. As I approached and then passed through puberty, I realised that I was different from my peers. Different in the sense that while I liked girls, I also knew that my male friends interested me sexually as well. Even though, homosexuality was now accepted in most societies world-wide, for some reason, I though it lessened me in the eyes of my parents and friends and made every effort to keep it repressed.
But it gets worse! As I got older – about fourteen of fifteen, I think, I began to have thoughts about torture and physical punishments. And so, while gays were now acceptable in society, sadists were still seen as perverts and so this aspect of my psyche, I suppressed with every tiny milligram I had. I never discussed either aspect with anyone. Not my parents, my doctor or my friends. Not even with my best friend, Toby Vickers who as a medical student was still going through the final stages of his training whereas I was just graduating and was wrestling with the problem of what I was going to do with my degree once I had it.
And then Toby dropped his bombshell on me. “When are you going to come out and tell me all about it, Brad?” he asked me one night after dinner at our favourite restaurant.
I stared at him, knowing in that instant that he knew! I blushed. I couldn’t help it but he reassured me. “Come on, Brad. You know I love you as my oldest friend and would never – not ever do anything to hurt you. But it’s time you opened up to someone and I know you won’t to your parents so what about it? Look, I know you’re bi. I’ve seen the way you look at some of our male friends at times. I also suspect you have at least an interest in the BDSM scene… I’m right, aren’t I?”
I decided to be honest with him as he already appeared to know my deepest secret, at least in essence. “Yes, Toby, you are right. I’ve known it since we were boys together but I also knew it was wrong and that I must keep both the interest in males and later the sadism (not masochism – that’s never interested me) very much a secret.”
“But why?” he said, apparently genuinely surprised at my feelings of shame and of ‘wrongness’, “both things are now accepted as medically normal, even if sadism is kept rather sub-rosa in most parts.”
“Oh, I suppose it’s Mum and Dad. They don’t approve of gays and if that is unacceptable in their eyes, they would probably view sadism as absolutely beyond the pale, don’t you think?”
He smiled. “Yes, probably. Well, have you experimented with anyone secretly in either category?”
“No!” I protested, a trifle hotly. “I told you. I’ve kept it repressed all my life. Surely you understand?”
“Oh, I do. I do. But now I’ve got some news for you, too…” He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, grinning at me over the rim of his cup.
And then the penny dropped. I stared at him in a mixture of incredulity – and joy. “Not you too?”
“Me too, indeed. And while I’ve secretly admired your body for almost the whole time I’ve known you, or at least since I began to understand the desires of sexuality, I just wanted to touch you, not hurt you. Did you ever have similar thoughts about me?”
“Oh yes. But again, only to see you naked and feel and fondle you. The sadism thing came much later and my subjects in those cases were always strangers. Handsome and athletic young men and women, for I stress, Toby. I really like girls as much as boys…”
“So do I. It’s just as well in both our cases for we have been able to have girlfriends and to do all the usual things such young couples do as they grow up and develop.
“But now let me change the subject. Or rather diverge off it for a moment. You are graduating next week and you’ve already had a number of really good offers for teaching positions in some of Queensland’s best schools, and yet you can’t seem to make up your mind. Is what we were talking about earlier bothering you in all this?”
Now that we were talking frankly, I opened up to him: “Yes it is, Toby. In spades. I think I would make a good Phys. Ed. teacher but I can’t get it out of my mind that I’d rather be doing something else. What it is, I haven’t been able to put my finger on but I have a feeling it’s in the line of what we were talking about…?”
He grinned broadly now. His expression was almost triumphant and I looked hurt, I know. He was immediately contrite and apologised but then went on: “It’s just because I’ve been thinking too about what I’m going to do when I graduate. The idea of becoming your local GP doesn’t appeal, but then neither does going back to university to specialise. And then, last night, I knew exactly what it was I wanted to do with my degree – and I thought of you at the same time.”
I looked confused until he said one word: “Slavery!”
And then it all dropped into place. “Are you suggesting we set up a slave training establishment together?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. We both have trust funds from our grandparents, yours conditioned on you graduating from university and mine when I reached twenty-one years so we will both have some money to finance such an operation. What d’you think?”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea, Toby. And my excitement has told me this is what has been bothering me these last few months. And now, as I let my mind wander over the possibilities, I think I can see us heading up the very best slave training school, coupled with the finest slave dealership there is.
“You know how sleazy the state slave centres are?” He nodded and so I went on, “Well the private dealerships aren’t all that much better! There is not one of them I’ve seen either here on the Coast or in Brisbane that has any class at all.
“As I am thinking about it, I can see our school section training the better-looking slaves, male as well as female, not only to be the best physical specimens we can achieve, but also trained as domestics of various kinds, including housekeepers, cooks, handymen and the like, but also in the sexual arts so that they will be able to provide their owners with sex as good as the best of the old-world brothels in times past.”
He grinned. “I knew I was right in talking to you about this. I too have been having almost identical thoughts. Look, I have another year to go to finish my degree but you will be free to research the training of slaves in every aspect we decide will add to their market-value; to look around for a suitable site, probably around here in Robina; and also to start planning our buildings.
“Our combined trust funds will provide all the deposit we will need for the site, the building and the acquisition of raw slave material for we won’t be looking for top class material initially. As long as he or she has the basic physical structure, you will be able to turn his or her body into the epitome of the perfect naked slave – oh and by the way, I think we will need to install one of those new machines that permanently depilates the human body, for our slaves to be the best-looking on the market, I think they need to be quite nude of ugly facial and body hair.”
I nodded. “I agree. The name Vickers and Livingstone is going to become the benchmark for all slave establishments within only a few years and we’re going to make sure it stays that way.”
“I know this is going to be a success, Brad. The current dealerships do no more than train a slave in obedience. We are going to turn out muscular (or comely) physical specimens that are cheerful, skilful, obliging and competent in the skills we will claim for them. We will decorate and furnish the public areas tastefully and we will provide the very best service by us and our staff to our clientele so that they will not think of going elsewhere for the perfect slave…”

I am now going to jump ahead a year or so.
Yes, I immediately began on the course the pair of us had mapped out for me and I kept Toby up to date with every stage. I found a perfect block of land on the outskirts of the Robina Town Centre and we acquired it for a good price. I also began looking into designing our building and we decided that a multi-storey structure would be best. The ground floor would be the public areas: the reception area, the interview and display rooms, and our private offices.
The first floor would contain the ‘school’ rooms where our teachers would train their students; the second floor would be a very high-ceilinged gymnasium where their bodies would be developed and the top floor would contain our two apartments (including a very nice rooftop garden between the two. The slaves would be accommodated in the cellars.
You may be wondering what our respective parents thought about this idea. At first, they were horrified that Toby would throw away a medical degree to become a common slave dealer and that I would do the same thing rather than pursue an honourable career as a physical education teacher. But then, as we expounded our plans to create a top of the market establishment that would have none of the sleaze associated with the current dealerships or the so basic provisions of the various SSCs the governments of the world had established to process the criminal slaves from the courts and the eighteen-year-old failed students, they came to not only accept our decision, but also to encourage and assist us in achieving our aims.
You may also be wondering that given the draconian aspects of this modern brand of world-wide legal slavery, there were many who risked their futures? Think again. There will always be criminals. The nature of the class may vary with societal change but there will always be those who think they can ‘beat the system’.
One thing we did notice though, was that your basic ‘crim’ the hoodlum or street-criminal; often the product of the slums of a city … this class of criminal did tend to disappear. But the educated, sophisticated white-collar criminal, no. This class believed they would not be caught. And of course there was the sex criminal and the wife and child basher. These monsters didn’t learn anything at all from the new penal system.
As for the juveniles. I should here say that if a young person was judged lacking in the skills and intelligence necessary to gain a pass in his or her final exams, they were not penalised. Only those who ‘could’ but ‘didn’t’ suffered that penalty and in this class, an almost overnight improvement was readily noticeable world-wide.
Students became more tractable, seemed eager to learn and teachers everywhere crowed at the extraordinary change in classroom manners and performance.
And so, by the time we were ready to open, and that was two years after that momentous discussion between Toby and me in the restaurant, he had long graduated and we were an active team together.
We had obtained our loans easily given the homework we had done and our building was now complete including a large, beautifully landscaped car park with bitumen roadways, concrete edges and garden beds ablaze with colour, all tended by our garden-slave trainees, of course.
The building was beautiful. The exterior was faced with a lovely pinkish limestone and soon became a talking point of the city. We had staffed each department with the best we could find and had then trained them in the excellence we demanded of each and every one of them.
This particularly applied to our sales staff who were the essence of suave urbanity but also of knowledge of their product and a wish to see their client of the moment fully satisfied with their service to him or her.
But just as important was our training staff. This was my department and in between my own formal classes, I constantly prowled around the various class and training rooms, watching that each slave was being given the very best education in his or her subjects. Of course, being slaves, they could be worked up to fifteen hours a day but our staff couldn’t, so we had to have enough coming and going so that each slave-student was fully occupied for every one of those fifteen hours.
And that brings me to disciplining the slaves. It goes without saying that as we were bringing in (for the most part) brand new slaves, they had no idea of the level of discipline that now applied to them.
Our methods were harsh but we had long ago decided that ‘short and sharp’ is by far the best mode of attack in these cases. Let me detail our introductory class for a new batch of slaves.
As Training Manager, this was my department and I always ran it myself.
“You are scum,” I began, staring malevolently down at them from the dais on which I stood. We were in one of the classrooms and a couple of the teachers were there on either side and near the back of the room. The slaves were already naked and had been depilated and chipped. More about that later.
This introduction always got their attention and usually upset them, too. That was my intention. “You are now slaves for the rest of your lives and we are going to teach you how to be the best slave there is.
“You won’t like it but we don’t care what you like or don’t like. You obey, instantly and without question and if you don’t, this is what will happen…”
I now turned my head towards the brooch pinned to my collar and said the words: Global. Punishment.”
At that, there was now a cacophony of screams and each and every one of them hopped around, bent over and grabbed at his balls or her clitoris for that command had caused the chip permanently glued either to his right testicle (inside the scrotum) or her clitoris, something Toby had attended to as part of their admission to our school.
The shock only lasted a couple of seconds and as it shut down, the dozen slaves now slowly straightened up and now demonstrated a great deal more respect than they had shown a few moments ago. I went on: “That was a punishment zap. This is the attention mode.” And now I again turned towards my collar and said the word ‘Attention’.
At this, all they received was a slight tingle which meant they either had to stop what they were doing and proceed to their next location, or attend upon the person who had issued the instruction.
“You will now learn the basic positions of slavery used in this institution. The first is called the Position of Inspection. Copy me!” I then demonstrated that position which is achieved by spreading the feet a half metre apart, raising the hands up behind the head with the fingertips just touching, tensioning every muscle in the body and fixing the eyes on some point in the distance, never moving them from that position. I explained this to them and was gratified to note that each one of them performed it to perfection. I smiled but only to myself, once again realising that severe pain is still the best teacher of all.
I then demonstrated a number of the other standard positions of slavery and again they performed most adequately. But then one of them was foolish enough to make some comment to his neighbour. I didn’t hear what it was and invited him in quite pleasant tones to share it with the rest of us. He smirked a little and told us that all this was a cinch.
But then I turned nasty. I screamed abuse at him informing him that he would now perform what is called the Fuck-Fuck dance for the next hour but that prior to that performance he would be caned.


Boring. It could have been a book categorized as a business development book with a few short disjointed scenes thrown in so it would be rated above G-13. 1 out of 5 (0limits)

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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.


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