Chapter 1

 

Three events, occurring over a three year plus span, conspired to change my whole life, the first two momentous; the third merely exciting - but wonderful for all that...

The first of the two momentous events was a change of government in Australia.

James Philpot was a junior minister in the Liberal National government but he believed the current world breakdown of law and order, the rise of religious terrorism and the social disruption being created by certain radical religious groups demanding rights not enjoyed by the majority needed swift and radical reforms.

He got little support from his own party and resigned from it, forming his own - the Australia Party - to which he soon drew many disaffected LNP members, some independents and even some right wing labor people.

His breakaway lost the government its majority and at the subsequent general election, for the campaign of which his strategies were masterful but centred around the issues outlined above and promising funding for and collaboration with the states to achieve a rapid institution of his policies, he achieved a landslide - and record - majority in both houses of the federal parliament.

Those states which agreed to come on board immediately received massive funding boosts, the others soon had changes of government and then followed suit.

The new prime minister wasted no time. His government immediately informed the United Nations that it would be abrogating its participation in the international treaties on slavery, treatment of prisoners, refugees and others and that it intended to deal decisively with breaches of its sovereignty and the law of the land.

In conjunction with the states, prisons were abolished and criminal slavery instituted in their stead. Criminal slaves were to be sold on the open market and were to be worked to the limit of their physical capacity. For the time of their slavery, their rights as citizens were suspended so that their owners could deal with them appropriately. The criminal law was strengthened so that judges and magistrates now had the power to again order corporal (and other appropriate) punishments as well as slavery. Fines and community service were retained for minor offences but middle and major crime now merited five or ten years as a slave, or in serious matters, life - and that meant life! There was now no remission for 'good behaviour'. As a slave you would be whipped into offering up your all. There was no alternative and therefore no need for 'good behaviour'.

 

The second momentous event, occurring a couple of years later, was a call I had from a solicitor in Sydney.

"Mr Scott? Good. My name is Jones, Bill Jones and I am your uncle's solicitor. You may not have heard that he died recently? No? He wanted a private funeral but I wonder if you could spare the time to come down to Sydney to see me. It is a matter of importance and I will send you an electronic ticket... You can? Wonderful. See you tomorrow..."

That conversation led me to a revelation that was to change my whole way of life.

My father had been an accountant and had his own small practice at Palm Beach on the Gold Coast of Queensland. I liked figures too and followed him, achieving a degree from Bond University and eventually qualifying as a chartered accountant. Of course I joined him in the practice and thoroughly enjoyed the work. Besides the pair of us, there were two other accountants and a small support staff and I thought my life was well mapped out for me.

I already had my own three-bedroom house nearby and lived by myself. I didn't have a girlfriend let alone a wife as my inclinations lie in the other direction but I had never indulged with other men as the climate for that sort of thing in Queensland was still not really encouraging.

But then, about a year ago, my dad had a massive heart attack in his office and died almost instantly. I was shattered but Mum was even more deeply affected and slowly pined away, dying herself (of a broken heart?) six months after Dad.

I knew of course he had a brother in Sydney but that they didn't get on. I had however, actually visited him a couple of times while I was down there. I liked him but he wouldn't discuss his relationship with Dad, nor what he did for a living, except to say he was into stocks and shares.

His house was nice but not grand and he drove your everyday Holden so I had no inkling of what was coming when I entered Bill Jones' office. After the usual courtesies, he asked me if I had known his client and I told him I had met him only twice and then rather briefly.

He smiled and told me that my uncle had been impressed with me and that I was his sole heir. And now came the revelation. It seemed my Uncle Bob had had an extraordinary gift for the market and his net worth was in the hundreds of millions of dollars - the very high hundreds - some $950,000,000 worth of them.

He was also single and I suddenly had a feeling about him. "Was he gay, Mr Jones?" I asked the lawyer.

He smiled. "Yes, as am I - and, I suspect, you too?"

I nodded. "I believe I am, but have never had a relationship with a man (or a woman for that matter). Always claimed I was too busy studying, etc."

"I understand. It was this however, that caused the rift between your father and Bob. He recognised you immediately, don't ask me how, and told me he was going to make you his sole heir - you don't have other close family anyway, but there it is..."

I sat back and stared at him in awe. "Nine hundred and fifty million?"

He grinned and nodded. "That's about it. Well, what do you want to do about it?"

"Do about it?"

"Do you want to cash it in and start over or leave it as it is? Bob used a firm of advisers here but he always made the decisions himself. I certainly have no expertise in running huge estates but you as an accountant may have?"

"I'll have to think on that. For the meantime, leave it where it is. I'll have a look over the portfolio at my leisure and get back to you. That okay?"

"Sure thing. Now, anything else I can do for you while you're here?"

 

Upon returning home I sat at my desk and pondered my future. This practice, for a start. While I had enjoyed it when I had need of the income I derived from it, now that I had an enormous fortune, it seemed ridiculous to keep toiling away here and so I decided there and then to put it on the market.

The next thing was a new house. I had already decided to move, not because I necessarily wanted a grander house but because I could now indulge myself in ways I hadn't even dared to contemplate before.

With the advent of criminal slavery some two years ago, they were now a fairly common sight around the traps. When the jails had been closed down, prisoners near the end of their sentences had been set free but the remainder had been converted to slavery.

And with the PM's (and the state government's) new rules, this meant that once sold on the block, the new slave could be dealt with exactly as his or her new owner wished. The idea was to make slavery more feared as a punishment that anything tried before, including the death penalty, and so while at first, owners didn't make their slaves go about naked (at least in public), that soon changed and more and more one could see stark naked slaves carrying a lady's parcels or even trotting him or her around in a little gig.

This was what I wanted. And so I thought about a bigger house with a very large garden around it. I would hire a paid butler but all other servants would be slaves...

I informed my two professional colleagues of my plans (but not of the extent of my wealth) and asked it they would like to take over the practice, paying me off on a pre-arranged plan. They jumped at it and that day, I walked out of the office for the last time.

I then approached an employment agency which I knew catered for gay clients (although not exclusively, of course) and informed the principal there that I was looking for a butler who would be a competent house manager, was at least sympathetic to a gay employer and who could manage a household of slaves.

It didn't take them long at all to present me with a list and I duly interviewed three candidates. The end result was Manfred Jarvis, a real gem and gay himself although certainly not effeminate. He was the very soul of the perfect English butler and in our interview expressed the opinion that slaves must be kept under strict discipline at all times and preferably totally naked - and nude.

"What's the difference, Mr Jarvis?" I asked.

He smiled but it was not in the least patronising. "Naked means without clothes, sir. Nude means without body hair. I believe a slave ought to have all his or her body hair permanently removed to underline his status as a slave and to make him more attractive..."

I realised I had been holding my breath and let it out - slowly. This was exactly what I wanted to hear for I too dislike hair on my fantasy subjects (of which I have many).

"And how would you propose to remove their hair, Mr Jarvis?" I asked.

"Jarvis, sir. Just plain Jarvis. But to answer your question. If you were going to acquire a number of slaves, I would recommend we purchase a unit ourselves. They aren't cheap but if you were going to buy, say four or more slaves, it would be economical to acquire your own unit."

I was really excited now. I had long wished I had the guts to have myself depilated but hadn't dared. I asked him if it was a painful process.

"Not in the least, sir." He paused and looked shrewdly at me. "Were you considering your own body, sir?"

I nodded. "Yes, I was..."

He grinned then and stood up, quickly shedding his own clothes until he stood naked before me. I had watched in shock as he stripped but I wasn't going to stop him. And when he now stood naked before me I was impressed. He was thirty-two years old but he looked ten years younger. His body was truly superb: athletic, muscular - and totally nude of hair below his eyelashes.

He now put on a muscle display that had me goggle-eyed. I have been to a muscle-man show and came away singularly unimpressed. I thought their performances were stilted and lacked grace and finesse. His was both artistic and graceful and during it, he even erected his cock.

"Very impressive, Jarvis," I said, trying to keep my voice normal. "And you say it is not painful?"

"Not at all. It tickles a little but the booth - that's the most expensive type of unit - is quick and very effective." He paused a moment but then, almost shyly, asked if I would like to feel him down.

"When you are buying your slaves, sir, you will be expected to check out their bodies. You can try it out on me if you like?"

I grinned. "I'm game if you don't mind...?"

"Not in the least, sir. Actually, I sometimes fantasise about being a slave myself and it would be a real thrill for you to inspect my body as if I was one."

Nothing loath, I too rose and began to feel him down, as he put it. Although I am thirty-five years old, this was the first time I had ever touched another human being, at least in this way. I was shocked at the wondrous feel of his silky skin and firm muscles and I spent long minutes exploring every part of his beautiful body, even including his cock and balls, which of course erected once more under my ministrations.

He did me proud. As my fingertips moved over his flesh, he flexed and/or rippled that part of him so I could experience the true wonder of another human body.

I asked him how experienced he was with gay love.

"Oh, I've had a few lovers, sir. But nothing long-term. I delight in a good male body but have no ambitions for a long-term partnership. In my line of work, it doesn't pay."