Chapter 1

 

I sat in the plush chair in the viewing room attached to the manager's office of Scabbard and Drass, the world's leading purveyor of top-class slaves, chatting with him informally as we waited for the pair of them to arrive.

Bill Adams was very aware of what they had done to my father and mother and that I had been able to redress the wrong and recover the ill gotten gains they had accumulated from his downfall.

Dad had been one of Australia's leading magnates and philanthropists, building on his grandfather's and father's enterprise but had then suffered a catastrophic melt down of his assets leading to bankruptcy and suicide on his part which in turn led to my mother falling into a horrible decline and her eventual death as well.

By this time however I had graduated from Melbourne University with an honours degree in commerce and I didn't believe for one second the apparent collapse of his extraordinary empire.

Fortunately his beautiful home in St George's Road, Toorak was not affected and neither were the trust funds which supported mother and me and the latter enabled me to investigate thoroughly the ostensible foundering of the share prices in his various enterprises.

It took me months to uncover the truth but by that time Dad had shot himself and Mother had fallen into the decline from which she would not recover.

The truth, when I finally uncovered it led straight to John Fothergill and his son James. John was a contemporary of my father while James was a little younger than myself at twenty-eight years old. Fothergill senior had been jealous of my family's success for years and I think it may have become an obsession with him. What I eventually uncovered was that he had been seeding the market with vague rumours about the instability of our commercial empire and that its so-called solid base was really nothing more than an eggshell.

As everyone will be well aware, the stock market is very much prone to rumour and it doesn't take very much for prices to crash and then stockholders rush to try and sell, snowballing the effect until the enterprise is worth very little.

Any real investigation would have uncovered the fact, as I did, that the asset foundation of all of the enterprises was as solid as a rock, but as I say, rumour tends to override fact.

 

Once I had established the falseness of the claims and their source, John and James Fothergill were charged, convicted and sentenced to slavery for life. It was the pair of them that I now awaited in Bill Adams' office.

Penal slavery had been re-established all over the world about twenty years ago as a result of out-of-control crime, religious terrorism and youth street offences that had made it unsafe to go out of one's house at night for fear of attack by youth gangs and the like. It had been an instant success, wiping out a huge proportion of these crimes from the very first day. It had left governments all over the world ecstatic not only for that reason but also because of the huge savings to the budgets of every country in the world formerly resulting in the huge costs of running the prison system.

They had of course, been abolished, torn down and the land sold immediately slavery replaced penal incarceration as the penalty for all middle to major crime. And at the same time, it being recognised that the gradual decline in the behaviour of young people had come about from the ever-growing restriction on the rights of parents and teachers to properly discipline young people.

That was restored at the same time as the prison system was abolished and while over-zealousness in the corporal punishment of children was dealt with severely, parents and teachers were now again able to discipline their children. Furthermore, when it could be shown that a student had failed his final exams due to lack of application, a short hearing by local committees might well result in the student being himself sentenced to slavery.

These measures also resulted in an extraordinary turnaround not only in the pass rate but also in the demeanour and behaviour of students at school.

But to get back to John and James Fothergill, they were now ushered into Bill's viewing room and when they saw me sitting waiting for them, their faces dropped, figuratively to the floor.

I just smiled up at them as they took their place on two of the short plinths provided to show off a slave or slaves to Bill's guests. He is an expert in his craft. He knew very well the circumstances surrounding their descent into slavery and he left it to me to savour this moment to the fullest.

I suppose they must have considered that it would be very likely that I would make every attempt to acquire them and to make their lives hell for what they had done to my mother and father but perhaps they had hoped that I would not be interested in acquiring them.

Regardless of what they thought, I now sat back in the chair and stared up at the father and son duo, my face carefully totally neutral and not displaying the absolute hate I had for the pair of them.

John Fothergill was at that time forty-eight years old and his naked body was still quite muscular although of course I knew I could improve it out of all sight. Oh I should say here, that the institution of slavery had quite intentionally been designed as something to fear and dread.

For a start, slaves were stripped naked and were kept that way for the whole period of their slavery. And yes, even in the cold of Melbourne's winter, not a single thread of clothing was permitted for any slave.

Secondly, they were also denuded of all facial and body hair below their eyes. This was more for cosmetic reasons than any other, although I suppose that the total revealing of a male or female's sexual organs would have added to the intentional shame of being exposed so totally out in public.

And so as they now stood up on the short plinths they both looked absolutely terrified as they stared down at me. Of course, as they had been trained upon their arrival at the State Slave Centre prior to being purchased by Scabbard and Drass, they now automatically assumed what is known as the Position of Slavery, which requires them to raise their hands up behind their heads, the tips of their middle fingers just touching, pulling their elbows right back so as to display their physiques to perfection and then tensioning the various muscles all over them to further add to the effectiveness of the display.

I sat there quite still, allowing my eyes to rove up and down their bodies before rising to move up to them and then feel and fondle their flesh with my fingers.

This I did as intrusively and indecently as I could, even to the point of fondling their cocks and balls while they stood there in utter shame and humiliation.

I have mentioned that John Fothergill was tall and muscular for all his forty-eight years, but his son had the body of a true athlete: slim but muscular with a definition that comes about only from a dedication to sports in general but swimming, athletics and gymnastics in particular and James' body certainly reflected that. As a result I spent more time feeling and fondling his beautiful flesh, caressing the tight buttocks, shapely thighs and of course the huge appendage between his legs while he stood there, his face as red as a beetroot while his father stared down at me and what I was doing to his son in absolute horror and barely concealed rage.

I exulted in this. It had of course been my intention all along but I hadn't imagined that I'd be so successful and so I continued on, lightly running my fingers all over the young man's so beautiful body and remarking to Bill what a good fuck he was likely to be.

As it happens, I am bisexual and enjoy just about equally, good sexual relations with both men and women. I am now aged twenty-nine, one year older than James, and I have had a number of girlfriends during my adolescence and young manhood but none had developed into something I would want to make permanent. I have also tried out sex with some of my male friends but again, nothing has yet developed wherein I would wish to make the liaison anything other than a casual fling.

I have also sometimes tried out sex with some of the slaves in our family home. Not when Mother and Dad were alive as their morals did not permit such use of slaves. And yes, of course the household slaves and gardeners were as naked as all the rest of them throughout the world, but my parents were quite able to ignore their nakedness and nudity and so of course, I followed suit.

But after their passing, I discussed the matter with Hobson, our family butler for many years and he informed me that in his experience and from talking to his colleagues, many slave-owners used the more comely or handsome and muscular of their slaves quite openly and that if I wished to partake, he would ensure that my choice for that night was fully prepared for it.

The Fothergills were obviously very aware that their bodies were now very much available to me and to any of my guests for such a purpose and I smiled gloatingly up at the pair of them as I ostentatiously licked my lips as I allowed my fingers and hands to rove all over James' so athletic body, squeezing his biceps, shoulders and thighs, slapping his so pert buttocks and continuing to stroke his now very rigid penis and dangling balls as well as his chest, belly muscles and thighs.

I also allowed my own cock to erect inside my pants and occasionally stroked it with one hand while the other continued to rove over James' body.

I glanced at Bill from time to time as he stood behind the pair of them, grinning like a Cheshire cat at my performance, very aware that I was bunging on side and I winked surreptitiously at him as I kept up my fondling of the young man's body.

"Not much of a pair are they, Bill? I'd have thought that given their dedication to sport, they would have had better bodies?"

Bill responded on cue: "No, but perhaps you might spend a lot of time developing them to your well-known standards?"

"Well, I suppose I could. I certainly spent a lot of time developing the bodies of the household slaves at home, but it's going to need one hell of a lot of work to correct this pair of disgusting specimens."

I kept a straight face during all of this but Bill's expression of humour at my words made it rather difficult.

John's face now changed from horror and concealed rage to a quite open anger at my words and my continued feeling and fondling of his son's so beautiful body. And he even made as if to step down off the plinth and attack me, which of course was what I had been aiming for.

Bill reacted very quickly.

I haven't yet mentioned the primary device used to control slaves in this new penal slavery era. Oh yes, the whip, cane, strap, and other ancient devices of corporal punishment are still in use but the principal instrument used is a tiny silicon chip no more than a half centimetre square and less than a millimetre thick that is glued to the right testicle of a male or the inner skin of a female's clitoris.

It is simplicity itself to attach this so tiny sliver to its target and then program it to its owner's cell phone or other device. It has, or rather it can have, many uses which an owner may program into it but the two principal ones which are inherent in every newly installed device is to provide a GPS tag to apprise its owner of its exact whereabouts at any time, anywhere in the world, and secondly to give him either a warning signal or a punishment zap, the former requiring him to report to his owner; the second to punish him immediately for some perceived wrong.

Within Scabbard and Drass, all the staff from Bill down, were issued with brooches pinned to their collar and all they have to do to inflict either of these signals was to say his number and then either the word 'attention' or 'punishment'.

Bill did this now, merely turning his head slightly towards the brooch, saying the number, in this case 926 and then the word 'Punishment'.

Of course I, like every other citizen in the world was well aware of the chips and their functions but as our slaves at home behaved themselves and worked hard I had never seen Hobson actually punish them. Use the attention signal, yes, for that is how he indicated to them that he wanted to see them. I made a mental note to ask him as soon as we got home how often he had to use the other zap but I was pretty sure that it was seldom if ever.

Anyway, John's reaction was absolutely spectacular. First of all, he stopped in mid-air from attempting to come to his son' rescue from my so indecent continuous and continued feeling and fondling of his so beautiful body, somehow regaining his balance and now bending over and clutching his testicles, and screaming blue murder at the obvious pain from the tiny shock to his gonad.

You may be wondering how it is that such a tiny chip could inflict so terrible a pain on its subject? It is actually explained to us as a part of our school curriculum that involves the management of slaves, that the chip derives its power source from the chemicals inside the male scrotum or female clitoris and the micro-circuitry then converts it to a series of tiny zaps which, because of the sensitivity of the organs concerned, gives him or her an unholy agony that lasts for five seconds. Try it. Grab an iron bar and pretend it is red-hot and then count slowly to five. It's like an eternity isn't it?

But it certainly works and the moment the zap shut off, John had resumed his pose with his hands up behind his head and all his muscles on display, his chivalrous attempts to protect his son from my indecent fondling of his body now forgotten.

I had really enjoyed shaming both John and James by this intrusive and indecent fingering of their bodies and particularly their sexual organs (and not forgetting making them bend over and spread their buttocks for a digital anal inspection) but I knew that it was now time to desist and so I now advised Bill Adams that I would take them and waved my credit card over the sensor he produced while he nodded and thanked me for my custom before asking how I proposed to take them home.

I grinned at him widely. "Oh, that won't be a problem at all. We brought the garden utility truck in with us and had it set up as a slave-transporter for that purpose."

He nodded and grinned back at me. "Thought as much. Well Peter, as always, it's a pleasure to do business with you and I'm looking forward to the tennis at your place next Saturday. I've actually been practising as I am absolutely determined to beat you one day."

I smiled again. "Wouldn't be surprised if it was this Saturday, Bill. I think you've been practising because you're getting better and better every fortnight."

I turned to my PA, Julian Scott, and asked him to go and bring the vehicle around to the loading bay at the back of the dealership while Bill and I saw to the transfer of their chips to my iPhone. This is a simple enough process and as I had obtained a list of our existing slave-herd from Hobson, was able to provide the correct numbers for John and his son.

The transporting of slaves is yet another plank in the rigid discipline imposed on slaves and is just about as shameful and horrible as can be imagined.

The utility truck provided for our gardener can be converted from a simple tray-top to one with sides and a back. But it has also been provided with two receptacles at centre-front and back of the tray to hold the fore and aft poles which are then surmounted with a rail between them. The rail contains a dozen runners, to each of which is attached a metre-long iron bar with Velcro manacles attached to either end. The poles are each three metres high above the bed of the tray-top and once a slave has his or her wrists enclosed in the manacles, their feet dangle twenty to fifty centimetres above its floor. The runners, rather than fixed locations on the rail, mean that as the vehicle moves up hill or down dale, or brakes or accelerates, their bodies will slide back and forth along the rail and of course as it turns corners they will sway outward before returning to the vertical.

By intention, this is both shameful, humiliating and rather painful. And of course it means they are also totally exposed to the elements: rain, wind and even hail, not to mention the crowds of people ogling them along the way. It is actually illegal to transport a slave inside a car as a passenger although he or she may be used as a chauffeur if desired.

The rear pole includes a small platform that can be wound up and down the pole in order to facilitate attaching the slave's wrists to the manacles of the next available runner. It took but seconds to secure John and James Fothergill and then wind down the platform so that they would be unable to obtain even a toehold to the floor as we drove back along the roads to the house.

I thanked Bill and bid him goodbye and then climbed into the passenger seat so that I could watch our two new slaves sliding back and forth along the rail and out sideways as we turned a corner.

How did I feel? Wonderful! I had mourned the passing of my father and mother and that pair of bastards now hanging from the rail behind us were in no small measure responsible for both their deaths.

Their futures were not going to be happy times for them.