Christopher Enslaved

Part Eight

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

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Todd Visits Licker

My first visit out to the Baldwin/Fletcher Farms since

Christopher had been enslaved could only be arranged

two months later, in June.   I was busy with

final exams in college, and the days when I

happened to be available turned out to be, according to

Joshua Holder, head of the slave compound at

Baldwin/Fletcher, days when Licker (the former

Christopher) was not free for visits. 

Finally a date was set for the second week of my

summer vacation.  I drove out to Baldwin/Fletcher in

my dad's graduation present to me, a new Jeep

Wrangler.  I was allowed to visit at 11 AM on a

Tuesday.  For the visit they were letting Licker off

from field duty an hour early, and they were

going to let us have lunch together before Christopher

had to return to the fields at 1 PM.  I arrived at

quarter to 11 and Trevor Humphries, the Baldwin boys'

chief overseer and advisor, met me.  He was very

friendly to me and inquired about my studies and my plans

for the summer.  I told him that after my visit

I was going to be spending the rest of the day at the

beach with my buddies.

Right at 11 I saw Licker arriving, escorted by Joshua

Holder.  Joshua came up and shook my hand, and he,

Trevor, and I chatted briefly, while Licker stood

silently at attention, in back of Joshua. 

Licker was naked, and wearing a fancy harness,

different from the one they had put him in on his

first day as a slave.  He later told me that he

had eight different harnesses.  He looked as though

he had been freshly shaved that morning, and his body

was shiny and glistening with oil and sweat, though

his legs were grimy with dirt.  He wore sandals with

straps that came up about six inches on the leg.  He

had a white velvet ribbon cinching his cock and balls,

which made them stick up and out, a ribbon tied in a

bow that dangled beneath his balls.  From his cock

hung a large silver bell that tinkled with his every

move.   He wore a headdress of feathers and beads.

His lips were colored red, and his cheeks and nipples

were rouged.  I could tell he was very embarrassed at

having me see him decked out like a parade boy in his

field display get-up.  He looked almost like something

from a tawdry Las Vegas male review, especially since

his costume contrasted so much with my casual summer

clothes of shorts, gold and black t-shirt, and

sneakers.

Trevor took his leave and Joshua escorted Licker and

me to a bench by a tree where we could sit and visit.

Joshua then reached down to Licker's penis and removed

his bell, saying, "I'll take this off so you two can

chat in peace."  When Joshua left, I embraced Licker,

and he responded with a long hug.  We parted from our

embrace and sat down.  It was then I noticed he had an

erection.  He was very embarrassed and put his arms in

his lap to cover it, but I said, "Hey, that's no big

deal.  I saw a bunch of you field slaves working as I

drove up here.  A lot of people probably get to see

your goods."

It was well intended, but it was the wrong

thing to say.  It made Licker look down in shame,

and I apologized.  He said it was nothing,

and asked how I was; but no sooner had we

started a conversation than I saw Trevor

returning.  He came up to us and Licker immediately

hopped to attention, sticking his chest and his

pelvis out as far as he could in slave salute.  His cock

was bobbing, still erect.   On seeing Licker's

dick, Trevor asked, "Slave, where is your bell?"  And

Licker, shouting, replied, "Sir, Mr. Ryan removed it

so Todd and I could converse, Sir!"  Trevor explained

the reason for his interruption.  "Licker,

Retcher has a chore he wants to use you for after

dinner, so go right now to the nearest scrub station,

get hosed down, and change into your uniform.  I want

to make sure you don't keep Retcher waiting after

dinner.  Go change, then come back here to Todd."

"Sir, yes sir!" With that, Licker went off.  As he

hurried off, doubtless to please Trevor, I could see

some bruises on his buttocks.

Alone with Trevor, I asked how Licker

was doing.  "Licker", he said, "has been doing

pretty much everything he is told to do.  He has been

on very good behavior, because he is very fearful of

punishment.  He has not accepted his enslavement.

He pretends to, for us; but he hasn't.  On the

outside, he obeys.  On the inside, he is seething

with resentment.  He is humiliated by almost

everything he has to do.  If he could get over that

useless pride of his, accept the fact that he's a slave,

that he will be a slave for the rest of his life,  he would

be content.  If you have any influence with him, if you

really care about him, you might want to have a 'talk'

with him about this."

"But if you are asking how he is doing on a more

personal level, you would have to ask Joshua or

Retcher that question.  I really don't pay too much

attention to slaves from that standpoint of how they are

adjusting and so on.  My job is simply to provide the

Baldwin’s with the best business advice available to

keep things running.  If a slave is slacking, I'll

suggest that it's time to replace it.  Joshua and the

Baldwin boys can then weigh in with any personal

matters regarding the slave.  When you see as many

slaves as I do, one slave begins to look exactly like

another."

Trevor's answer made me nervous.  I knew him to be

someone who treated free people, all free people, even

the homeless, with great respect.  Slaves were another

matter.  To him, they were nothing but business

products, like office machines.

After a little more chatting Licker returned in his

brown slave fatigues and plain sandals.  When he

arrived,  he had to acknowledge Trevor

with the slave salute of standing tall with

his pelvis and chest thrust out and his arms at his

side.  Trevor completely ignored Licker, but as he

left he said to me,  "Take care, Todd.  And have

a super time at the beach.  It's a fantastic day to be

hanging out.  And I hope you have a great

summer vacation."  "I certainly plan on it", I said.

"The very start of the summer vacation", he replied,

"was the part I always liked.  Knowing

you had three months ahead of you to just hang out and

kick back at the beach, and do nothing, it was great!"

As he walked off we nodded good-bye.  Then

Licker and I sat back down on the bench under the

shade tree.

He seemed a lot more comfortable, now that he was

clothed, but in a way it made me more uncomfortable.

It made him look like a standard issue slave.  And that's

what he was, and what he would always be.  A

common slave.

I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him, but I

was hesitant to ask because I was sure that any

answer he gave would embarrass him.

I knew Trevor was right.  Licker hated being a

slave, and more than anything he found the

humiliation of it the most unbearable part.  Since he

was, after all, just a product now, at the bottom of

the totem pole, he was doubtless treated like crap on

a regular basis.  In fact, in society's eyes, one

couldn't get much lower.  But I wanted to know

about the things that humiliated him.  How

often was he punished and chastised, and by what

methods? Was he spanked like a little boy,

and how often was he spanked?  Were any of the

overseers’ kind?  Did he have slave friends?

What did they do for fun, if anything?

Was there really no opportunity to masturbate,

and what would happen if you got caught doing it?

I had no idea about any of it, actually.

As I pondered how to form the questions

so as to spare him further humiliation, I noticed

there were a lot of free men walking along

a path not far from us, a path leading

to the parking lot.  They looked like laborers

dressed in Levis and work shirts.  They obviously

were not slaves.  So I asked Licker who they were.

"They are cannery workers.  They are getting off

their shift at the cannery.  About a fourth of the

workers in the cannery are free men.  They use them to

help oversee and keep the slaves in line."

"They all look like thugs and low life’s." I said.

"I sure wouldn't want them bossing me around."

And I knew that once again I had said the wrong

thing.  It was getting awfully hard to say the

right thing around Licker.

Two of the cannery workers passed by, each carrying

lunch pails.  One of them looked at us, and I heard him

say to his partner, "There's a slave."  Then they both

turned and approached us.  The taller of the two, a

curly haired Italian jock, said, "Slave, I need to

piss."  Licker immediately hopped up, got in front

of the jock, knelt down, gathered his arms behind

his back, turned his head straight up,

and opened his mouth as wide as he could.

The jock unzipped, pulled his large cut dick out, and

carefully placed the tip into Licker's mouth. Licker's

lips immediately enclosed it, and the guy started

peeing full force, with Licker performing a continual

on/off swallowing.  Licker had obviously done well in

slave urinal class, because he was able to swallow

every drop of it.  The jock's friend, who was

waiting nearby, looked at me and said,

"Nice day, huh?"  "It's a great day", I replied,

aimlessly.  The jock finished peeing,

and I could hear Licker sucking out

the piss slit.  Then the workman

pulled his dick out of Licker's mouth, put it

away, zipped up, and walked off with his friend

without acknowledging Licker's existence any more

than you acknowledge the existence of a restroom

toilet, once you've relieved yourself.

Licker got up and came back and sat next to me on the

bench.  There was a faint smell of piss.  I wanted to

ask him about that.  But how?  Finally I just let it

out.  "Man, that was unbelievable!  Would you ever

believe you'd be out in public every day, drinking the

piss of any blue collar worker who happens to

come along?"

"It isn't bad.  It is good to provide a service,"

Licker said quietly, looking at the ground.

"Fuck man!" I said. "I can smell that guy's piss on

your breath, and you're telling me it isn't bad?"

"We all do it.  It's normal here.  People have always

done that as a sign of service", Licker offered

somewhat feebly.

"So you don't mind doing it?"

"No."

I was getting angry.  "Licker, you are not being

honest with me.  You are only drinking piss because

you have to do it.  Yet you are trying to tell

yourself and me that you are doing it because you want

to do it and enjoy doing it.  Isn't dishonesty to a

free man a punishable offense for slaves?  And

you are a slave!  So tell the truth!  You were totally

humiliated by having that guy piss in your mouth.

Just admit it to me!"

Licker kept looking down, and tears started falling

down his face.  He said nothing.

"Just admit that things have changed, that you're

a slave now and you'll always be a slave, that

you hate it, you hate your slavery!  Admit that

this is your life, and it shames you and humiliates

you, and you hate every minute of it!"  Licker

was crying.  "You can't admit it?

Does that mean you like being a slave?" 

Still no reaction except the tears, so

I continued." Do you want me to call one of those

tawse-bearing overseers over here and report you for

failing to answer my question? For lying to me?

For lying to a free man?  That's two

infractions… Will two infractions get your

punishment doubled?  Answer my questions!

Or does your silence mean you

want me to call that overseer over here?"

He kept crying, and I was more mystified than

ever.  I also felt sorry for him.  Maybe he really was

unclear, undecided about certain things, certain

aspects of his new life and status.  Maybe it was all a

nightmare to him, a nightmare from which he

hoped to awake.  Maybe he expected to wake up in

the slave barracks one morning and discover that it

was not the slave barracks, that it was his old room

back home, and that the clothes he had to put on

that day were not his coarse, ugly, brown slave fatigues but

the soft, casual sports clothes that once made him look

so attractive.  Of course, that morning would never

come.  Poor, miserable, slave Licker! I put my arm

around him and said, "I love you, Licker."

Then he smiled, his crying stopped, and

I saw his erection stir in his uniform.

I wanted to ask him about that, but I decided there

would be no more questions for today.  I looked into

his beautiful teary slave eyes, and thought, "I

wouldn't mind pissing in his mouth."

After some quiet time, I said, "I like being

around you now even more than I did before."  We

relaxed then, and just sat together under the shade tree.

To be continued…

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