'The ministry processed him as a 'Slave' In Training’ a ‘SIT’ for short; and, the  application from him through the social placement agency of the government was to place him in service with one he felt, hoped desperately, might be compassionate; but, this person would be a master to him -- in all senses of the word.

This was the only option Slave Designates had, and if they were not accepted to those they wished, they were sent into the service of anyone world-wide for any usage: 'outsourcing' was the norm; though many other things had changed in the world’s social, political and economic order.

Society had returned to a Master and slave model not unlike how the ancients regarded it. Slavery was again considered a very natural state of affairs.  

This slave acolyte was in the early days of it, just after full global acceptance; he was told to go via an E-mail, for this 'one time' interview in Rome, Italy. If a 'SIT' was rejected there would be no options for other choices. The acolyte knew a 'SIT' could be killed were there to be no other takers of his body and very soul. Many millions were already dead who lacked any usage.

The SIT arrived at an old building of about three stories tall; and, from what he could see over a high stucco wall appeared to be a mansion of the 16th century. Typical rustication and Palladian windows graced the facade.  He entered through a wrought iron gate that electronically swung open after he identified himself over the intercom. He was aware, heart throbbing, that he walked his last as a free person into this beautiful gardened courtyard.

He was grabbed by his arm.  This was unexpected; even shocking. A heavy set man, dark and greasy haired, a gardener: from appearances, ‘a nobody’.

This domestic who was tending the roses, promptly stripped him of all clothing. Violently he tore them away; and, he used a short knife to cut away his belt and blue jeans to fully rip them and the briefs to the ground.

“Brand new clothes! Hundred dollar shirt: ruined!”. He then slapped a mask upon his face

He would have obeyed. He knew his purpose; ‘but was this really necessary?’

He couldn't obey fast enough; and, naked and blindfolded, this brute, dressed in faded black cotton overalls, shoved him along, up the worn marble staircase.

One could almost luger down these stairs he thought, as his bare feet felt for the steps, but his toes only found a smooth rounded, but hard, sensual upward slanting surface; ground down by the centuries of humanity itself  -- most of whom were certainly dead. 

How many were as himself who passed these gates he wondered? There was no question this estate had seen a much delineated class system of masters and servants; and even today no absurdly dressed tourist American was arrogantly be spotting this premise: with gaudy running shoes, blue jeans, and red shirt. He was a mere mortal now.

He heard the woman of his hopes, talking in a commanding voice as he was pushed through the threshold by the brutish groundskeeper, and he heard the click of high heels upon a marble floor, he became slightly erect and pushed at his genitals blindly, hoping that it wouldn't grow; he was not to be her lover he understood -- but, she, his Mistress. Slavery wasn't about sex; this he knew -- but why was he nude?

He was commanded to kneel and keep his masked eyes lowered to the floor by another male voice.  He could see under the black silk covered board mask; and, he heard her talking; his new Master, giving some parting orders to a person leaving the room; and, saw her lower body as he tilted his head up. She in a dark navy blue suit with a skirt taught between well shaped thighs, and she stood commanding: assured.

He stammered his salutations and resume, but in mid-sentence the brute, the handler wrapped his mouth with a ball gag.

He glimpsed her fold her arms, but lowered his gaze as his handler gave him a nudge upon his hip with his gritty booted foot. The neophyte hands were then bound with lamb skin lined wrist cuffs -- so much for equality. ‘Can we not at least be civilized!’ he thought; and, the acolyte shed a tear.

He heard her speak Italian; he couldn't understand it, but it sounded as if she were discussing him as one might discuss a piece of furniture. She did not address him. Instead another deep voiced man told him to stand up in English, but to keep his head downward. This man came from nowhere. Was this her husband; or, the chief of slaves? He was wearing dress shoes and the man wore a suit.

The neophyte, eyes though covered, saw at ground level; and, he saw as one might watch a film short of food preparation, the thuggish gardener, assisted by another set of hands, roughly, unceremoniously push his genitals into an oval silver box.

He had a partial erection and his penis was painfully forced by thick soiled, ugly fingers – that pinched the scrotum sharply; and, he then saw each ball poked through an impossibly small inner containment section.

The box clamped with a snap shut; and, he worried his cock might break.

He had heard stories that they do indeed break; and, as the penis was crammed into what he now understood to be a chastity device, it had no room for further expansion. He willed his penis to soften. It felt as he had a honey dew melon between his legs.

He heard a woman's short laugh; and the departing footsteps of the booted man echoed slightly, but, then returned to a previous position with a click of his heels --'sheesh! are these Nazis?', The acolyte thought.

He now had that realization of finality, that these people and this woman with real authority did own him. The well dressed man read something in Italian very quickly -- a document of legal purpose; and, he asked the quivering, doubled over, slave if he agreed in English.

“Si, yes!” he stated.

This without hesitation, not having a clue as to what he'd affirmed. Suddenly he felt the sting of a flogger upon his naked backside “SLAVE!” he heard in chorus, and  he instinctively moved away, but, the slave was caught by strong hands; and, his arms were hoisted above him: the cuff fixed upon some dangling fixture; and, he could feel the chastity case pull downward as his body was hoisted upward; 'how silly he must look' – 15 more lashes blistered his buttocks. He felt the tissue would burst as a ripe plum: certainly purple red by now he thought. Then he felt his skin slathered with something slippery, cold and foamy; and, he then felt scraping along his inner thighs --they were shaving his entire body.

A thick leather collar was affixed his neck too during this preparation.

He had agreed to the legal documents. All in the room said in unison again, “slave!”  An odd thrill rushed through the slave's body and he shook involuntarily but visibly as his body rose.

'The slave hung as a finial attached to a massive black iron chandelier, cuffed to its center. “Am I an 'it'? "I think 'i' am." He wasn’t wishing escape but feared for his life.

It was an ancient fixture that graced the foyer with a pulley and rope; and, it was flanked by Doric columns the gear attachment hidden behind one.

The motor whirred again as the fixture dragged him up. It was rigged with an electric hoist device, so the candles could be lighted: or, slaves dealt with; and, the slave knew the sound -- it was a modified 'Genie': a garage door opener. Should the chain break he would be diced by the tonnage of the light fixture.  

His toes just touched the floor in a point. He looked like a slender male ballerina doing pirouettes as the two handlers shaved legs, chest , arm pits, 3 day growth from his journey; with a straight razor; and, long pulls of it made him nervous; he cooperated with hiking his thighs up as performing in some odd dance; turning as nudged; They spread his buttocks and even shaved the tuft of hair in the crack; and the coolness of air upon raw shaved skin was sensual and delightful -- if he should be in a sensual mood. He was.

He heard the solid click of spiked heels moving toward him upon the marble black and white checkered floor; and, then, he felt the soft hand of his master. She stroked his buttocks gently, which tingled the spanked area; and, again she spoke to his handler who proceeded to unbind his chastity box.

His penis folded out and grew as yeasted bread dough from a tight package -- he could not restrain a rush of eroticism and love for this woman. The Madam's voice deepened and his handler's held him while she administered 15 more blows with the flogger; easily as violent as the previous ones from the brute twice her size -- her stance he caught out of the corner of his eye and a breathless laugh she revealed enjoyment with such training. She turned her back on him as in disgust, the flogger swishing at her well curved side.

The men then shaved around his pubic area and testicles.

She turned to him and said in an Italian accent, "Perhaps I'll send you back, but without these.

She held his shaved shiny balls. "I was told you were a homosexual -- well, we'll make you a woman then".

She lifted her free hand up; and, casually, fingers slightly beckoning for something familiar to them.

The gruff tall man handed her pruning shears from his belt and grabbed his thighs, she pulled the slave’s balls down with a tight fist and spread the sack out over upon her knuckles. She slid the shears just under the hovering penis: a slight clear drop of pre-cum upon end it's meat; and, she cupped the whole sack with the blade with the other hand, and she cut:

The slave cried out in terror again; different from his cries of pain too; an animal sound actors don't do well in horror movies.

but, his owner stopped. She stood back and watched the sack bleed.

The Master had only cut a tiny fraction of an inch, enough to open the sack up though: blood was instantly all over the genitals and streaming between his legs ; the Master stood back taking a towel from a set of obedient hands; as if she were a doctor.

She gestured approval.

The slave from the door, glistening in sweat, looked as one of Michelangelo's Slaves in marble; shaved, white from terror, stretched out as a display item.

A 50 cc syringe with 5"of airline tubing appeared in her hand as he looked under his mask. She injected what smelled to be cognac into the incision and inflated the scrotum with the liquid. Crude fingers then pinched the incision closed and used a stapler to close the small cut,

The men then reattached the chastity box. He felt the staple pop loose and saw liquid squirt from the incision as they pressed upon them. He noted his penis slid more easily into it this time without the boner, and his balls, without hair, popped in through the aperture with little rubbery bounces. The lid snapped shut again, for how long he didn't know -- but, what had she meant, they'd make him a 'woman'? He realized he needed to pee.

"There,'' she said, in English. It took him aback; he was pleased that she was pleased! And his penis expanded again as much as it could; needless to say,  it was uncomfortable for the slave.

He was led through huge frescoed rooms with 18 foot ceilings. He glimpsed a Veranda magazine, and noted a book of Botticelli's work; Athena with a battle axe stood aside a Centaur, pictured upon its cover. The doleful horse/man rightfully worried.

Down stairs he went, just as he expected.

He was obviously to be housed in a basement area; but, he was shocked at the room he was to inhabit -- it was a dog cage. He thought then this was such a silly thing for this master to be into: how corny unoriginal, ‘oooh and she gave me a dog collar! She must spend time on the porn pages on the internet, he thought, with some sense of satisfaction.

The slave slept deeply, and then, in some ways he didn't sleep at all, curled in the wired cage with nothing but a plastic tray for a mattress; about 5' x 3'x 3'. He experienced a night terror, visions so real but terrible he was relieved to awaken in the cage. He roved his eyes about in the darkness that appeared to him to twinkle.

Things could be much worse than his present predicament he believed. He urinated into the chastity device.

He drifted off again; and, he then had an out of the body experience. The slave at first terrified he wasn't sleeping gave a short scream, and then he unfolded from his body as his penis had emerged from the silver box – as if expanding upon release.

He felt no gravity; and, he floated or flew up the spiraled stairs he'd descended. He entered a room and he saw his Mistress in a negligee, Hellenistic in vision of her fabrics , upright shoulders turned toward him in a dark sparsely appointed bedroom, with a canopied bed: she strolled to him: held his hands. He still did not see her face even though he didn't have the mask on – he looked down as he was supposed to.

It was daylight from arched frosted windows inset two feet into a granite foundation.

The slave found himself still curled in the cage. He wasn't sure he'd slept at all. He was in a great deal of discomfort and his fanny felt swollen from the whipping; he could just glimpse the purple streaks of the whips imprint and knew his cheeks were likely purple. His genitals in the chastity box felt to be floating in liquid and itched.

He elated that he was free to look upon the surroundings and see it wasn’t a torture chamber; but a place, other than his cage, for laundry and various other household upkeep items. His cramped quarters brought him back to reality, and he was hungry. A dank smell permeated the air, as basements everywhere.

The big tall brute appeared hale and upbeat as he danced down the stairs and swing himself around the baluster, singing something. The man looked Sicilian: this dark big hairy man then dragged this blond shaved blue eyed slave from the cage by the ankles; about 170LBs, the big man figured; and, the brute pushed him over to a ceramic square with foot rests and a hole -- a toilet of sorts; and, the brute hosed him down with special attention to the chastity device while and scrubbed his hairless body with a sea sponge; and, then he affixed the hose with a penis shaped nozzle that had holes along it's shaft from which water spewed. The handler gestured he use it. The slave irrigated his anus.

The slave was unbound and given a small white towel. He wiped the oval silver box, almost the size of an ostrich egg he thought, and shook it of remaining fluid; the brute eyed him suspiciously; and then slave let the egg shaped prison fall between spread legs to attend other bodily areas.

The slave then drank from the hose more than he normally would have – he knew he might not get another one in a long while. He was hungry but didn’t expect any food.

He noted the brute sit upon a low wall of sandstone, eyes still upon him. The owned property stood erect by his own efforts in many hours. He stood there and recalled those Greek Kouros figures forever standing in wait shaves looking with smiles upon faces, and felt some camaraderie with those boys.

But, the slave realized his wait was to be short lived. He was about to be fucked: the big man unlaced his boots took them off, stepped out of black baggy trousers and very white underwear. He saw that the brute was well endowed with about 9 inches of cock, surrounded by bristly pubic hair that covered all the lower body exposed almost as some animal – was he not a slave too?

The brute gestured the floor, the slave squatted. “No” the brute said angry looking as yesterday. The slave got on his knees. “No! Arf, Aaarf!” shouted the brute.

‘Oh, dog style’

Wantonly, the slave became aroused. He was no virgin, and he again felt the pain of a penis denied expansion: his anus lubricated, expectant, preparing for this ancient behavior between young men. He assumed the position –“Arf, arf!” the brute shouted again. “Arf’ the slave shouted finally in a weak tone, and the brute was upon him spanking the tender flanks as he plowed.

The penetration truly hurt as a stab like no other. The double plop as the long thick cock slithered quickly past both mouths of outer and inner rectum, and he was pushed flat to the cold stone while a hairy heavy animal humped his painfully sore fanny.

The brute did not ejaculate into his anus but dismounted the slave, flipped him over, and sat upon his chest and masturbated.  The brute gestured the slave open his mouth leaned over the slave’s head, stove his cock as deep in the throat as possible, and came with a whoop.

The size of his load also took the slave aback as he choked upon it; and found it to fill his mouth with the slimy seed – he swallowed. ‘Hmmm,’ breakfast he thought. He hoped sex would happen again between this man. He had also ejaculated and saw a droplet of it ooze from the drain at the chastity device’s bottom.

His lover told him to kneel again, and repositioned the mask over his eyes. After the other dressed and departed through an unknown door, The slave sat some ten minutes then he heard the click of heels, and his Madam descend with a sycophant male chattering behind her.’

His Mistress ordered the chastity box removed, and the quick facile hands of her talkative companion unlocked it as one would take a chicken out of the oven. A Doric column with severe ‘entasis’ is how he imagined the better part of his experience with the chastity container to have been.

How had his sexuality become an issue? He felt he could have anticipated this and taken something to prevent such an exhibition; and, now she would view his genitals in a puddle of sperm, ‘she may well send him back’ he thought.

This time his penis emerged small and puffy white from overlong moisture and urine -- the incision appeared to have closed without infection... No sign of erotic inclination whatever.

The slave stared at the floor and feared looking up; so, he still couldn't see her face; but, he did get a peek of it in the silver of the chastity lid he’d polished.

Distorted as the image was he could see her blonde agile beauty and her self-assured posture too, as she stood close.

She gave orders in Italian, and her toady scurried off with the torture instrument.

The slave was alone with her; and in less than 24 hours after having been 'collared' as most people termed the transformation. He could have spoken to her but he did not. If he wanted he could easily turn the tables on her -- but nothing was further from his mind, nor did she fear him in the least; besides, the events of the past 24 hours were entirely legal and he was now owned property.

Slavery was a part of life itself throughout the better part of human history – slavery in the sense one individual has the power of life and death over another; it became evident to modern man that the equation never really changed just the appearances.

This new order ushered in a far more humane society where more people could be who they indeed were. In many places as the Islamic areas some form or another slavery persisted; particularly, in the Middle East and Africa.

Total ownership was a serious matter and fraternization or weak Masters and willful slaves was a big problem, particularly in the USA.

This was one of the reasons the slave had chosen this Roman house to supplicate for his service; people here understood the system much better.

Clear dominance had to be achieved by those who ruled; fraternization could not be tolerated. A good slave was obedient and could be trained in a relatively short period of time, whatever their age: sure, the methods, as seen, could be harsh, but the results were always the same; happiness and contentment in an expanded family.

New methods of Behaviorism, the internet and various medications had enabled a grass roots realization slavery was a correct choice for mankind – the alternative were the horrors of  a world run amuck with science and the humiliations from an oligarchy of corporations.

The Mistress, tossed down at his knees, several packets of pills and simply said, "One from each daily" and she turned on her spiked heel and walked back up the stairs.

He reached for the antibiotics; ‘yes!’ he thought, she will be kind to him. He read the packet and read they were female sexual hormones. She did intend to make him into a woman. He promptly took them without water.




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