Becoming Slave 172
by Tombscreen
3 Mar 2024 4739 readers Score 9.5 (32 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Chapter 13: Finding Purpose
The Story So Far:
After being convicted on trumped-up drug charges, straight boy Noah has been sold into slavery.
Stripped of its old identity and forced to serve Master Ross sexually and domestically, it has slowly accepted its new reality as slave 172.
6 MONTHS of SLAVERY - MARCH 2035
After Josh’s trial, life had settled down for slave 172 and Master Ross. Its routine was becoming second nature, and it had learned to anticipate the wants and needs of its owner so well that it rarely had to be corrected anymore.
Having heard the stories of Josh’s cruelty during the trial, 172 had noticed a shift in Master Ross’ treatment of it. While he remained firm but fair and punished it when it was deserved, he was also more outwardly compassionate & empathetic to his slave than before.
Ross had come to appreciate even more that his slave was a prized possession; it was not only in his interest to look after it well to make the most of his investment, but it was the right thing to do morally – his slave was not just an object for his personal use, there was still a human being inside it that would one day be free again.
In early March of 2035, Master Ross decided he would give his slave the option of seeing its family for the first time since it was enslaved 6 months ago. And provided the slave continued to perform without resistance, he would let it continue to see them every few months. The slave jumped at the chance; it had missed them terribly, especially in the early days of its captivity, and it was sure they would be worried sick about him, too.
When the day finally rolled around, Master Ross decided to breed 172’s hole while it ate its breakfast gruel before selecting one of the larger plugs in his collection for the day to keep his load inside his slave.
172 was allowed to wear the standard-issue white slave jockstrap that it had been sold wearing and a borrowed t-shirt of Lewis’. The slave was grateful to have been afforded some modesty – these were the first clothes it had worn in months – but its steel restraints, plugged hole, and cage bulge would all still be painfully noticeable. But despite tinging the slave’s excitement with a dose of extreme humiliation, it would be worth it to see its parents and its older brother, Christian.
When the doorbell went, and it heard its owner answer, 172’s pulse raced so fast it could barely hear the sound of its family exchanging pleasantries over the sound of the blood racing through its ears with each pounding of its heart. And then a face appeared in the doorway – Christian.
The same height as Noah and with an unmistakable family resemblance, Christian was 3 years older than his brother at 23. Whereas Noah’s round, bottomless eyes were jade green, Christian’s were a deep blue, but just as easy to get lost in. His dark brown hair was kept short, neatly gelled up at the fringe, and accompanied by a near-permanent 5 o’clock shadow.
Noah had worshipped his older brother growing up. He may not be as academically gifted as Noah – he had left school at 16 to become an apprentice plumber – but he was streetwise. He could turn his hand to just about anything practical, from sports as a kid to his trade as an adult. Their kickabouts in the garden as kids inspired Noah to take up football [soccer] in an attempt to live up to the bar his brother set. Noah had wanted nothing more than to earn his brother’s pride.
Christian stood wide-eyed, his jaw slowly dropping as he took in the sight of his brother before him, as their parents entered the room behind, similarly stunned. 172 tentatively took a step forward and couldn’t help but beam a broad smile and shed a tear of joy as it threw its arms wide to hug its family, who returned the warm embrace, relieved that he looked well.
Master Ross had left them to it on that first visit, for which the slave was grateful. 172 kept the details of the nature of its service vague – he knew they already knew enough, and he didn’t want to embarrass them any more than they must be already. But he explained how he was being treated well and how they shouldn’t worry; he had complete faith that Master Ross would keep him safe and healthy. And he explained how slavery was teaching him the virtues of humility and service that would keep him on the straight-and-narrow when he was eventually released.
After half an hour or so of fairly awkward chat, 172 waved goodbye as its relatives departed before turning and catching Master Ross off-guard with a big bear hug and effusing about how grateful it was for the chance to see them.
Master Ross kept his promise and continued to allow the slave to see its relatives. After that first time, he often sat in with them, letting the family get to know him and vice versa. But Noah got the impression that his parents never really got used to seeing him as a slave and were still embarrassed to see him, occasionally finding tenuous excuses to skip a visit.
But Christian never turned up the opportunity to see his brother, even if he had to go on his own. As time went on, 172 slowly got over its shame and began to be more open about its life in slavery. Christian was struck by the change he saw in his brother. The cocky flirt who had left home for university, and whose recklessness had gotten him into this mess, had been slowly replaced by the humble, attentive, and conscientious being that Master Ross had moulded. Christian found himself feeling proud and even inspired by his brother’s transformation.
One particular day, Christian had visited alone, the day after 172’s maintenance spanking that it still received weekly. At first, the slave had tried to hide the marks that its slave jockstrap left exposed, but when Christian noticed his brother wincing, the slave began to explain how its discipline regime worked and, within a few minutes, was proudly showing his brother the red marks that were slowly fading on its ass. It explained that it was grateful to Master Ross for his regular discipline; it helped to focus its mind on its service, and Sir’s careful correction was the physical proof of his commitment to making his slave the best it could be.
Noah may have grown up idolising his brother, but it was Christian who left filled with pride that day. As indeed, was Master Ross, who had overheard their conversation from the hallway and shot his slave a cheeky wink as he rubbed his sore rump as its brother left.
2.5 YEARS of SLAVERY - JULY 2037
Christian continued to visit his brother regularly over the next few years. But on one particular visit, around 2 years later, 172 sensed something was wrong. When it asked what the matter was, its brother broke down. Noah had never seen Christian like this; his older brother had always seemed like a model of strength & stability.
Through floods of tears, he explained how his long-term girlfriend had left him for another man and how he had spiralled out of control since. He wasn’t sleeping, he had been gambling away his money and was drinking heavily. And it had culminated in turning up to work one day still drunk from the night before, leaving his boss no choice but to let him go.
As 172 hugged his brother tight, he lamented that he wasn’t sure what he could do. He explained how he felt he was just wandering aimlessly through life, pursuing his selfish desires but never finding a feeling of fulfilment. He was destined to be stuck in their small village for the rest of his life, working dead-end jobs. It all felt meaningless.
After a long hug, as Christian let all his emotions out, 172 explained that it sounded like Christian needed to find a new purpose in his life, to find a calling that he could take pride in. Christian’s apprenticeship may have fallen through, but if 172 could find a new purpose in life through slavery, then a talented young man like Christian could surely find himself a new start if he put his mind to it.
Christian thanked his brother for bringing him back down to Earth, and they moved on to chat about something more cheerful. But when the time came for 172 to get back to his chores, Christian asked Master Ross if he could have a word with him in private.
The previous year, the Voluntary Slavery Amendment to the Slavery Acts was passed to allow non-criminals to volunteer for slavery.
This was designed not just for natural submissives, who would obviously be drawn to live a life of submission, but also as a means of people raising money for their families or dealing with their debts. Whereas enslaved criminals were auctioned off and the proceeds kept by the state, the money fetched by volunteer slaves went to their families or to clear their debts.
Each volunteer slave had the option of directly negotiating a contract with a prospective owner, setting out the length of their enslavement and the fee to be paid in return – the longer the duration, the higher the fee that the slave could expect to generate, up to a potentially very lucrative lifelong slavery contract.
Alternatively, volunteer slaves could submit themselves to the auctions alongside the criminals, offering themselves for a set period in slavery and seeing how big a price they could attract.
In general, the fees at auction were higher than what a slave could directly negotiate as multiple buyers competed for the most promising lots, but with the obvious risk that they had no control over who purchased them and may end up selling for a lower fee than they might have hoped.
Due to the fears around sham enslavements as a form of fraud or money laundering, it had been decided that all volunteer slave contracts had to have a minimum term of 10 years, with regular inspections by the National Slave Agency to verify that slaves were actually being treated as slaves.
Christian couldn’t lie. Even before his life had spiralled out of control, having seen his brother’s transformation since enslavement, he could see the appeal of volunteering. But since his girlfriend had left, he’d racked up huge gambling debts of £10k, and now that he was unemployed, he was being forced to seriously consider whether enslavement may be his only option.
And so, while his brother headed upstairs to scrub his owner’s bathroom clean, Christian had approached Master Ross to ask whether any of his contacts in the slave-owning world would be willing to meet him to discuss his options.
Ross had struck up an unlikely friendship with Christian since he had started visiting 172. It pained Ross to see him in this state and be forced to consider such drastic options. But as Christian spoke, it became clear that he had really taken seriously 172’s philosophising on how rewarding submission could actually be. So, Ross decided to make him an offer.
Ross’ own brother Alex was due to graduate from university this summer and had gotten a job offer to become a trainee prosecutor in London. He hadn’t needed a slave while he was at uni; his college owned dozens of slaves that the students got to use for free. But moving to the big city, he was sure Alex would benefit massively from some assistance to take some pressure off him as he started his high-powered career, and a slave would make a perfect graduation present.
He had planned to buy something for him at the next set of auctions at the end of the month, but he knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to secure the fine specimen standing before him, pleading for a chance to start over. And this way, Ross would know that he was in safe hands.
Ross gave him two options, the minimum 10-year contract in exchange for clearing all his debts, or an extra £100k on top of his debts if he took a life contract. It was an extremely generous offer, more than even a handsome, athletic 25-year-old like Christian could expect to fetch at auction. Still, Ross was nothing if not generous with those he valued.
Christian went away to think about it. In fact, it was all he could think about as he rode the train home. He had always considered himself straight, and though he had nothing against the queer community, the thought of being made to submit sexually to another man made him feel slightly queasy. But this wasn’t about sex for him – he knew he would be used sexually, of course, but that was just a tiny necessary evil among what Christian was really seeking. He’d tried living life for himself, and look where that had left him. No, he realised that maybe his purpose in life was to commit himself instead to the service of someone more worthy. If part of that meant offering his body up for his owner’s sexual pleasure, well, so be it.
He had more or less made his mind up by the time he got home to his parents. They were horrified as Christian explained his situation, the extent of which he’d been hiding from them, and especially upset when Christian explained his proposal. But they had to accept they were in no position financially to help him out themselves – they’d sunk what little life savings they had into sending Noah to uni, most of which had been forfeited when he was enslaved. Ross’ offer would make them financially secure into retirement, and they knew from Noah’s experience that their other son would be in good hands with the MacLeod family.
They had to admire their son’s willingness to own up to his mistakes and his determination to turn his life around into something useful rather than bury his head in the sand & waste his life staring into the bottom of a glass. Not to mention, the payout from his sacrifice would be life-changing.
A few days later, when the formal contract offer came through from Ross’ solicitors, they hugged him a tearful farewell as he dressed in his smartest outfit to go to the courthouse, knowing full well it would be the last outfit he would get to choose for the rest of his life, and that it would end up in the courtroom incinerator once he was made to remove it.
In the days it took for the contract offer to be drafted, Christian had thought many times about whether he might regret his choice, but if anything, he was now more certain than ever – he couldn’t be trusted to live a life without order & control. This was the right thing to do for him and everyone else.
His confidence as he strode through the polished marble hallways of the courthouse momentarily wavered when he saw Master Ross waiting outside the courtroom, causing him to pause for a minute while he considered that this may be his last opportunity to back out. Gripping his contract in his hand, Christian finally plucked up the courage to slowly walk up to a smiling Master Ross, who gave him a brief hug before suggesting they sit on a nearby bench to await their turn in court while Ross calmly explained the procedural details.
When they were finally called, Ross gently took the contract from Christian’s hand as he stood and put his arm around Christian’s shoulder to gently guide him into the courtroom to stand in front of the judge.
“The volunteer will kneel.”
After shooting a quick glance at Ross and receiving a slight nod and a smile in return, Christian slowly got to his knees, crossed his hands behind his back and lowered his head to look at the ground, just as Ross had explained he should.
He could hear Ross and the judge discussing the finer points of the contract which Ross had presented as the judge ensured it was all legitimate, but he wasn’t really following their conversation – he had made up his mind, and the details were no longer his to worry about – until he heard the judge call his name.
“Christian Valentine Roberts. Have you read & understood the contract that has been presented here today?”
“Yes, Your Honour”
“And are you happy to proceed with signing it?”
“Yes, Your Honour”
“Good. Please remove all your clothing, place it on the table next to you, and then kneel again. You’ll have one last chance to re-read the contract, and then you will sign it. Once you sign it, you fully & irrevocably surrender all of your legal & human rights and will live the rest of your life as a slave. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Honour”
“Very well”
Christian stood and carefully removed his clothes, item by item, trying his best not to lose his nerve as he became conscious of the people in the public gallery watching him. As his feet touched the cold, polished stone floor of the courtroom after removing his shoes and socks, he thought about how this was it – he might never wear shoes ever again.
Eventually, just one item remained – Christian had chosen his favourite pair of black CK boxers that morning. Now, they were the last remaining vestige of his modesty. The last remaining symbol of his identity as a free man. But he didn’t dwell on it; he knew he needed to get it over with. In one swift motion, he dropped them to the ground and stepped out of them before placing them to one side and resuming his kneeling position.
Christian clearly looked after his body, sporting the lean, toned physique of an athlete, with a well-rounded bubble butt and a fine covering of light-brown body hair all over his torso and pubic region. Master Ross made no secret of taking the opportunity to ogle his newest property – he had imagined how good Christian’s body would look, but this was the first time he had actually seen it.
On the less impressive side, there had been a particularly audible outbreak of murmuring from the public gallery when they caught a glimpse of Christian’s cock as he placed his undies to one side. He had always been self-conscious about his modest 4” endowment. He was sure the comparison with his new owner would, in due course, validate that each had found their rightful positions in the hierarchy.
As Christian knelt, his now-bare knees uncomfortable against the solid floor beneath them, Master Ross placed the contract on the floor in front of him with a pen.
It took Christian a few moments of staring at the cover before he plucked up the courage to act. He slowly picked up the pen, flicked straight to the back page of the contract, and signed it.
The rest of the proceeding passed by like a blur as the judge made the necessary declarations before Christian felt himself being lifted to his feet by the courtroom guards and guided towards the slave exit and the processing centre beyond.
While they were negotiating the details of his enslavement contract, Christian (or slave 257V as he now was, the V denoting a volunteer) had inquired as to what modifications, if any, Ross would have lined up for his slave. Some were mandatory – all life slaves were branded on the ass, even volunteers – and Ross had openly expressed his belief that slaves should be tattooed with their registration barcodes. But he had largely brushed off the chance to elaborate on the details of what else he would request during the slave’s processing.
Would he have him pierced? Circumcised? Castrated? What was clear was that the moment Christian put pen to paper, he lost the expectation of being consulted in any way on what was or wasn’t done to him over the next few hours.
After being forced to pose so that he could be photographed in detail from every conceivable angle for his National Slave Agency record, Christian was guided to a nearby processing bay where all of his modifications would take place. His hands were cuffed and raised high above his head, attached to a hook dangling from the ceiling, securing the slave on its tiptoes like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher’s shop, entirely exposed to the busy processing officers tasked with transforming him.
First up, the slave winced as he was fitted with piercings through the septum, both nipples and his cock, each being equipped with not insignificant steel rings. Next came the thick steel collar and matching wrist and ankle cuffs, the same as slave 172 wore, each carefully welded shut once perfectly positioned on the slave’s frame.
These were soon joined by a tiny nub-sized chastity cage which was unceremoniously fitted around his limp, freshly pierced cock, and dangling balls. This was attached to his new PA piercing before both the piercing and the lock were also welded shut. It was clear the slave wouldn’t be getting any conventional sexual relief in its new life.
Then, after the slave’s tattoos were completed, just one thing remained. The dangling slave had spent the whole time he was being tattooed staring into the middle distance, mesmerised by the sight of the glowing furnace in the corner of the room, superheating the red-hot piece of twisted iron within it. The slave knew that, however unpleasant the processing had been so far, he had made the right choice in the long run. No regrets. But now that he was faced with the sight of the glowing letter “S” that would soon be scorched into his flesh, suddenly his stomach began to do somersaults, and he began to sob and mumble barely coherent pleas to be spared the branding.
But to no avail. No sooner had the brand been removed from the furnace than it disappeared out of his view behind him, and he felt the unmistakable flash of burning pain as the metal was forced into his flesh, accompanied by a sizzling sound. The pain itself was only momentary, as the nerve endings beneath the brand were destroyed, giving way to a lesser burn from the surrounding skin. But what would live far longer in the slave’s memory was the intense smell of its searing flesh.
By the time the brand was removed, just a couple of seconds later, despite it feeling like an eternity, the slave passed out, slumped in its strung-up position.
The slave awoke to find itself lying curled up on the cold metal floor of a steel cage, naked but for its steel collar & restraints, surrounded by bars. The dull ache from the branding scar reminded it that this was its life now. This is what it had chosen. It would be released in a few hours when Master Ross arrived to collect it, but it would never be free again. It was just a piece of owned property now. An object. And honestly, as it pondered what the future would hold, it had no regrets.
When he arrived, Master Ross was friendly and empathetic with his new slave, asking how it was feeling and checking on the recovery of its modifications. But the hierarchical difference between them was now clear and solidified when it was made to spend the car journey to Sir’s home stored in the car's boot.
Master’s brother Alex would be returning home in the morning to spend a few days staying with Ross before relocating to London, unaware of the surprise graduation present waiting from his brother. In the meantime, Ross guided the naked slave in the direction of his cellar dungeon.
When slave 172, who had been securely stored in its steel cage while its owner went out, saw its brother being led down the stairs in the uniform of steel restraints symbolising a slave, its jaw dropped, and it was left speechless.