Becoming Slave 172: Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Trial of Josh Collier

The Story So Far:

Our story so far has centred around straight boy Noah, convicted on trumped-up drug charges and sold into slavery as slave 172.

During the course of the story, Master Ross has introduced us a few times to his best friend, Josh. Josh is arrogant, brutal and cruel. Put simply, Josh Collier is a dick.

In the last chapter, we heard how he had previously raped the newly-enslaved slave 172. In this chapter, it’s time for him to get what he deserves.

Character Reminder:

Many of the characters we’ve met so far re-appear in this chapter, alongside a few new faces. So here’s a reminder of who we’ve already met:

Slave 172 (formerly Noah Roberts) – Now 20 years old. A former law student, enslaved at 19 for 5 years on petty drugs charges.
Master Ross MacLeod – 172’s 24 year old owner. An orphan since childhood, he was raised by his grandfather from whom he recently inherited a house and a small fortune. Compassionate and emotionally intelligent, he is firm but fair with his slave.
Lewis Bannon – 19 year old student. Once 172’s best friend and roommate before his enslavement, he is now Master Ross’ submissive boyfriend.
Josh Collier – 23 years old. Master Ross’ best friend since childhood & a fellow slave owner. Arrogant and sadistic, especially with slaves, he has an insatiable libido.
Slave 526 (formerly Oleksandr Lysenko) – 26 years old. Came to Britain as a teenage refugee from Ukraine, but fell in with the wrong crowd and got enslaved for 2 years for shoplifting. Owned by the Collier family for over 5 years, their abuse of the demerits system has extended his sentence to 12 years and counting.

1 JANUARY 2035

“That’s him, that’s the bastard…”, the young man explained to the police officer, sobbing. He was sporting a black eye and a cut lip, his clothes torn to the point of looking like rags.

He pointed in the direction of the belligerent, half-naked drunk being restrained by 2 more police officers a short distance away. His speech was slurred to the point of being indecipherable, but that didn’t stop him from hurling abuse in his thick, Welsh accent at the men fighting to cuff him.

“Sir, you’re under arrest…”

6 HOURS LATER

Josh Collier woke up 6 hours later with the worst hangover of his life. As his pounding head and nauseous stomach fought for his attention, several things went through his mind:

*Christ, how much did I have to drink last night?*

*Still, it was a hell of a night…*

*Wait, where am I?*

As he looked around the bare concrete of the police cell, his eyes wincing at the streams of light coming through the barred window, he slowly started to remember what had happened after he left Ross’ house.

After breaking up a scuffle between Josh and some random guy at the party, his mate Dan had suggested it was time he went home. He would look after slave 526 for him and drop him back at Josh’s when the party ended, and he called Josh a taxi.

But Josh had blanked the taxi and staggered through the nearby streets in an attempt to walk home before ending up lost. That’s when he’d seen the slave walking down the road ahead of him. Needing a piss and hoping to get some directions afterwards, Josh had jogged after the slave, shouting for it to stop. Only the slave hadn’t stopped; clearly startled and scared, it had tried to run away.

Angry at such disrespect from a slave, Josh sprinted after it. Even bladdered, his sporting background made him no match for the scraggly boy trying to flee him, and he soon caught him up, throwing him against the wall of the terraced houses lining the street.

“How fuckin’ dare you run away from me, pathetic little fag…” (or at least that’s what he intended to say, how much of it had been intelligible in his drunken state was dubious).

He followed it up with a slap across the face of the skimpily dressed boy, his eyes filled with terror as he babbled about not hurting him. Ignoring the slave’s pathetic pleas, he forced the boy to his knees and pinned him in place, reaching for the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh god, please no… Please… I’m not a sl…”, the boy begged as tears ran down his face. Unmoved, Josh fished his semi-erect cock out of his boxers and tried to aim it towards the slave’s face, splashing his head and the adjacent wall with his alcoholic piss.

At that moment, a police car had pulled into the end of the street, its headlights illuminating the scene like a searchlight. The boy began to fight his attacker more vigorously, shouting for help from the police. Turning to see the source of the lights just as the car’s blue lights flicked on, Josh panicked and made a run for it.

But with his jeans still undone and slipping down his thighs as he ran, it wasn’t long before he tripped, allowing the police officer to grab him and haul him back to his feet. And that’s more or less when Josh blacked out.

And now he was here…

Josh groaned in pain as he lifted his body into a seated position on the steel bed of the police cell.

What the fuck was he thinking? Attacking another man’s slave was vandalism. His dad would kill him when he found out. But Josh wasn’t too worried; his family could afford the best lawyers in the city, and vandalism was barely worth the cost of prosecution; he’d probably get off with a fine.

Then again… it was a bit odd for a slave to be walking down the street on its own. Especially late at night. Come to think of it, had the boy been wearing a collar? Josh’s mind, still hazy from the hangover, tried desperately to remember the details of what happened as the reality slowly dawned on him, prompting his churning stomach to finally give in and eject its contents.

10 JANUARY 2035

Josh entered the courtroom, wearing his best designer suit and flanked by his expensive lawyers, to hear the charges against him be presented to the judge – assault, false enslavement, and attempted rape.

The latter two potentially carried a life sentence in slavery. Josh had been beside himself when he realised how much trouble he was in, mistaking a free man for a slave. He just hoped as he entered his not guilty plea that his lawyers would be able to work a miracle and justify their hefty price tag.

After entering his plea, Josh sat and listened to the prosecution briefly outline their case. The victim had been returning from a lively party of his own when Josh had jumped him, hence his skimpy outfit, before being caught red-handed by a passing police patrol.

Then it was the turn of Josh’s lawyers to outline his defence – he’d been so drunk he wasn’t properly aware of his actions, he had no intention of enslaving or raping the lad, and he’d not come to any serious harm.

It was a weak argument, and as Josh listened intently to his lawyer, he couldn’t help but notice the judge’s facial expression, his lip curling with disdain and his face scrunched dismissively. He couldn’t bear it, sitting there being silently judged by a man who’d clearly made up his mind before Josh had his chance to speak.

Josh stood abruptly, cutting off his alarmed lawyer mid-sentence to address the judge himself: “Your honour, this is ridiculous. It’s clearly all a misunderstanding. If you had any sense, you’d throw this case out”.

Josh’s lawyer pleaded with him to sit back down, as he continued trying to butt in while the judge admonished him. Eventually, Josh slumped back into his chair, muttering, “this is fuckin’ rigged, man”, as he folded his arms and let his head droop to look at his feet.

But unfortunately for Josh, he hadn’t muttered it quietly enough.

“That’s it. I find the defendant in contempt. Guards, please…”

“What?! You can’t be fucking serious….”

“Enough!”

The judge ordered the guards to bring the defendant into the well of the court, strip him naked, and administer 10 blows of a cane as punishment for being in contempt. Josh continued to resist and heckle until the moment the guards yanked his tight, white Calvin Klein boxer briefs from his waist down to the floor.

As Josh stood, completely naked and restrained by multiple guards in front of the whole court, he finally fell silent and hung his head in shame as he realised the stupidity of his actions.

Josh tried his best to take the 10 blows as stoically as possible, but after only a few, he was again howling and swearing, trying to escape from the clutches of the guards restraining him.

When the tenth blow finally came, the judge decided he deserved an additional punishment for his profanity. He ordered that Josh be made to kneel and have his mouth washed out with soap. In a way, Josh had hated this even more. It was one thing to take a beating like a man; it was entirely different to be humiliated and degraded so completely in front of a public audience, including his friends and family.

As the guard grabbed a handful of his curly hair to hold him in place and forced the soap back into his mouth, tears finally began to flow down his cheeks as he accepted defeat.

To prevent any further disruption of proceedings, Josh was made to sit through the rest of the week-long trial handcuffed and gagged, wearing nothing but a tiny white jockstrap borrowed from the National Slave Agency. There was no mistaking the symbolism of this – with his antics, Josh had thrown away any chance of acquittal. His fate was sealed.

After only 30 minutes of deliberation, the jury found him guilty, and the judge took great delight in imposing the sentence: “slavery, for life”.

The following 48 hours passed like a blur to Josh – or slave 954-210-249L as he was now officially called. During the trial, in a desperate attempt to avoid the unthinkable reality, Josh entered a state of disassociation and denial. It was as if the events unfolding were happening to someone else, and he was just a spectator.

But since his official enslavement, he had been forced to confront the reality of his new life. First, like all lifer slaves, he was strapped down to a bench in the Slave Processing Centre and branded on his ass cheek. Any intention of maintaining his composure went out of the window as the red hot iron seared the letter “S” into his soft flesh, prompting floods of wailing tears.

Then, he was taken to be fitted with his collar. Just a temporary leather one for now, it would be for his new owner to decide on a permanent collar, but the realisation that he would never again experience life without this symbol of servitude filled the new slave with shame.

Then he was left in a padlocked cage, barely big enough for the 6’2” rugby player to lie down, even in the foetal position. Chained to the cage by his new collar, he was left alone with only his thoughts and two dog bowls – one of cold slave gruel, the other of “water” that he’d seen his guard blatantly piss into.

And that was how slave 249L remained, until the day of the greatest humiliation of all – the day of his auction.

20 JANUARY 2035

Josh had been woken extra early that morning, being dragged from his cage and taken to the facility’s display hall. Once there, he was chained to a post like the other new pieces of property on sale that day, ready to be poked, prodded and groped by the day’s buyers before they decided which lots to bid on and how much each specimen was worth.

As an experienced slave owner himself, he knew a slave of his age, strength, and physique would fetch well over £10k. He fully anticipated being the centre of a bidding war among the local heavy industry companies for his manual labour abilities. Amid his time in his cage, Josh had begun to come to terms with living a future of hauling rocks in the quarries, pulling ploughs in the crop fields, or maybe shovelling coal in the power plants.

He hated that this was his life now, but he knew what he was capable of. He knew he could take whatever beatings came his way. He knew he could survive whatever backbreaking work was thrown at him.

When the time came, the slave was dragged onto the stage of the auction auditorium by a length of chain attached to his collar. Aside from the collar, the boy was displayed completely naked for the audience of hundreds to ogle.

Josh focussed his efforts on retaining his composure amid the abject humiliation of his situation, but he couldn’t help trying to keep track of who was bidding on him and how much he was being valued at.

But he hadn’t anticipated the corporations being outbid by anyone wanting a house slave. You’d have to be foolish to pay that much on a clumsy brute like Josh, entirely unsuited for domestic work. But when he was dragged back off the stage to meet his new owner, it made sense.

Dan Coltrane had been one of Josh’s best friends ever since he first moved to Manchester as a kid. It was he who’d suggested Josh call it a night on New Year's Eve. It was he who’d delivered Josh’s slave back to his house the following day, only to find Josh’s bed empty.

Dan couldn’t believe it when he heard Josh had been arrested, but as he sat in the court and listened to the prosecution’s evidence, he knew it was all true – Josh was arrogant, cruel and violent.

He wasn’t at all surprised when Josh had started disrupting the hearing, but as a straight man, he was surprised when he found himself rock hard while watching his friend being stripped, beaten and humiliated.

He knew then that he had to have him.

Slave 172 watched in shock and horror as its former tormentor, Josh Collier, was led into Master Ross’ dungeon – handcuffed, gagged and wearing only the jockstrap it had been provided at the Slave Processing Centre.

172 was released from its cage and told to get comfortable on the bed as Sir and one of his friends, who the slave recognised from Sir’s parties, set about restraining Josh in the centre of the cellar.

Like Josh and Ross, Dan was from a wealthy family. His dad was a stockbroker and had always been happy to bankroll Dan’s lifestyle, although he nearly blew a fuse when the invoice for his son’s new slave had arrived in the post.

Through his job as a Slave Processing Officer at the courthouse, Dan knew he would be able to get his hands on all the top-of-the-range implements for use on his new plaything, but with the trial having proceeded so swiftly after Josh’s contempt citation, he hadn’t had time to convert the outhouse in his garden into a dungeon to keep his new property in.

And so it was that he asked his friend Ross if he could store the slave in his dungeon for a few days while he sorted things out. The pair had discussed how to break the slave in, with Dan being slightly taken aback by Ross’ enthusiastic suggestions, a sadistic smirk on his face as he imagined payback for the way his former friend had abused 172.

As Masters Ross and Dan gathered the tools and equipment they needed to fit the new slave with its uniform of steel restraints, there was a constant stream of noise from the boy. Whether it was begging to be released or hurling a torrent of abuse at its captors, 172 couldn’t be sure; the pair of Dan’s worn boxers stuffed into its mouth were successfully muffling the noise the boy was producing.

172 watched as the slave, fighting against the rope restraints securing it to one of Master Ross’ bondage frame, was fitted with thick, steel ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs and collar, the same as Sir had fitted to its own body on its first day as an owned object.

Finally came the chastity belt. Master Dan grabbed a fistful of his former friend’s hair and forced the kneeling slave to look upwards into the face of its new owner, as its other best friend secured the steel symbol of its dehumanisation around its junk. As Ross retrieved a pack of epoxy to fill in the device’s keyhole, Dan gleefully informed his slave that its penis would never, ever, ever be freed again, as tears once again ran down his face.

“Aww… I didn’t have you down as such a crybaby. You spent all that time beating up slaves, but deep down, you’re just a massive wimp, aren’t you?”

Dan’s monologue was interrupted by the sound of two more pairs of feet descending the staircase into the dungeon as Lewis escorted Oleksandr, the former slave 526, to see his former owner for the first time since New Year’s Eve.

One of the things the court had examined during Josh’s trial was his previous treatment of slaves, including the demerit logs relating to his own slave. The courts had been known to turn a blind eye to most abuses of the slavery system, but the Collier family’s submissions were so flagrantly petty that the judge had no choice but to throw out most of slave 525’s demerits, securing his release from slavery over 3 years after it’s original sentence should have ended.

While it was almost universally accepted that a slave’s virginity should be reserved for its owner, Dan and Ross had decided that it only seemed fair to gift Josh’s virginity to Oleksandr, who had always considered himself straight yet had his own anal virginity unceremoniously ripped away by a teenage Josh Collier.

Oleksandr’s 6” cock had once given him bragging rights over the other lads in the changing room showers of his football team, but 5 years of permanent chastity on Josh’s orders had reduced it to barely half that now. Still, it would hurt the virgin hole like hell when Oleksandr rammed it in, all in one go, with no lube. Payback was a bitch.

Over the course of the next hour, the newly christened slave 249L was bound to the fuck bench and tag-teamed at both ends by various combinations of Oleksandr, Dan, Ross and Lewis. Ross had even temporarily released slave 172 from its otherwise-permanent chastity to take a turn at fucking its tormentor. He felt it only right that his prized possession be allowed to get his own back on the man who had so mercilessly abused it.

As 172 stroked his freed cock to full hardness and prepared to take his revenge, Master Ross kneeled next to Josh’s head, sobbing and panting in the gap before another cock could be forced into its throat, and whispered into its ear:

“Shush now, Joshie boy. You should be excited about your new Master letting us use your pretty little cunt. If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have been so fucking stupid attacking that poor lad. You dished it out; now it’s your turn to take it. This is your life now”.

6 MONTHS LATER

Being forcibly enslaved was enough to break any man’s spirit, given enough time – and the one thing a life sentence gave in never-ending abundance was time. For months, Master Dan sensed that his slave had still not fully come to terms with its sentence. It still begged for mercy whenever it had the chance, as if there was still hope of being set free.

But the law is clear: life means life. The L in “slave 249L” told the whole world that the boy wouldn’t just live in chains, one day it would die in them.

Even if Dan had the choice to free his former buddy, he wouldn’t. He just loved fucking his smoking-hot cumdump too much. It still howled in desperation when Dan plowed its hole with his beefy 7.5” cock, despite him using it multiple times a day. And frankly, Dan never got tired of doing it.

He had fully intended on using the slave for a few years until he got bored of it, then buying a newer model and selling 249L to one of the slave brothels in the city centre. But the thrill of fucking his former friend didn’t seem like it would ever wear off.

On top of that, Dan knew that being treated like this by one of its school friends had made the slave’s fate all the more devastating for its brain to accept – and that only made Dan’s cock even harder as it shot rope after rope of cum into the boy, day after day.

Owning the slave had posed particular challenges for Master Dan since the start. The slave was well-built, strong and fierce – extremely useful for its owner’s hard labour tasks, but an issue when it chose to resist.

At 6” tall and a fellow rugby player, Dan was by no means delicate himself. But with a headstart in both height and power, and 6 months of hard labour experience under its belt and counting, the slave could have overpowered him if it got the chance. So it had been necessary to fit permanent shackles to the boy’s wrist & ankle cuffs, and it had been no stranger to its owner’s taser either.

The other thing that had been a stubborn challenge was blowjobs. No amount of carrot or stick had been able to get the slave to put in any effort to improve, even after months of practice. And so, after one particularly pathetic display of gagging and whining, when the boy had inadvertently caught his owner’s cock with his teeth, Dan decided enough was enough.

It was by no means the first time the slave’s teeth had caused him discomfort, but it would undoubtedly be the last. As he beat the slave with his belt, Dan made a phone call to one of their old school friends, Will.

Will was a dentist.

By the time they were done the following morning, all 32 of slave 249L’s teeth had been removed, one by one, without anaesthetic. After being forced to swallow a load of cum from Will in thanks, the slave had retreated to its cold steel cage and curled into a ball, as the part of its brain that still had hope of resuming life as free man Josh finally died and 249L finally accepted it would spend the rest of its life as a pathetic fucktoy for its owner.

The following day, Master Dan would have it castrated for good measure.

by Tombscreen

Email: [email protected]