Sarge

The War

1000 Stories – 10th Anniversary PZA Boy Stories started in June 2007 as Pueros-Zelamir Archive of Boy Slave Stories Story challenge "Back to the beginning" Rules and Table of contents

The violence had been increasing for months, and for the first time I felt threatened even here in Country Estates, no matter how safe my dad said we were. It was a matter of money. Those who had it set the rules, those who didn't depended on what we gave them, which was plenty. The elite governed, the privileged ran the businesses that supplied the needs of the nation, and the lowers worked. But they resented having to work for it. Over and over again they all had the same complaint. It was unfair. We treated them badly. We gave them the s*** jobs (Sorry, but I'm not allowed to use the real word, even though I'm fourteen.)

"We're in a walled in enclosure," dad said to me and my brother. "All of the lowers who come in are searched and must have been cleared by their employee. Even Ricky, the kid you sometimes spend time with is searched. I only clear him for entry because you keep him working when he's here and sometimes when he'd done you look like you're having fun with him. The army has four squads of soldiers just up the road. So don't worry. But I think school will start late because of the amount of unrest."

But the reports of attacks kept getting more and more frequent and closer to home. Most of the entitled had left the cities and took up residence in places like where I lived, Country Estates. They spent money hiring security and paying government officials to keep soldiers close by.

At first it was called 'demonstrations,' then 'riots,' and then 'uprisings.' The first time I heard the news refer to it as civil war was two months ago, right after President Thompson announced that he had ordered the army to 'clear out the lowers using whatever means was necessary." Things went bad after that. I began to have doubts about who's side the army was really on since it seemed like the ratio of officers to enlisted men was quite high and getting higher. And there were reports of desertions and lost weapons and equipment almost every night now.

It sounded like war to me. And I was worried that we were losing.

I woke up again in a cold drizzle, wearing nothing but my pajamas. I remembered the noise as explosives went off all through the neighborhood and my dad shouting for me and by brother to run. I went into the hallway only to find an angry mob had already gotten inside. I turned and made my way to the back of the house. My brother's room was empty as I passed it. From the back of the house I climbed out a window and dropped down to the top of the wall and then out.

Literally fearing for my life, I ran until I couldn't run any more. I had made it to the edge of the enclosure around Country Estates, but the wall had been blasted open in several spots, so I went out and hid in some brush off the road.

Now it was dawn, and all I could see of Country Estates was smoke. As far as I could tell the whole place, all 72 houses, were on fire or already burned to the ground. I wondered what happened to my parents, my brother, and my friends. In my mad panic I had not seen any of them, just angry people armed with makeshift weapons running through town and setting fires.

I was cold, hungry, and still very scared, and had no plans. Dad had always said the army would take care of us, not to worry. But if the army was around last night they sure weren't helping us. I decided I would slowly and carefully make my way back to a hole in the wall and have a look, maybe it wasn't as bad as I looked from a half mile away. But I had only gone a hundred yards when someone yelled, "Freeze."

I didn't freeze, I turned towards the voice and saw a soldier with a rifle pointed at me. At last, I was saved. "You have to help me, my parents and brother are missing," I shouted as I ran at him.

But he lowered the rifle slightly and fired a shot into the ground in front of me. "Freeze or the next one is in one of your knees," he said as he raised the rifle back up. "Drop to your knees with your hands behind your head," he said once I froze.

I reasoned that he didn't know who was good and who was bad so I did as he said. He moved forward, and two other soldiers I hadn't seen before moved in from the sides. "How's the war going," I asked when they got closer.

"The war's over," the first one I saw said. He kept his rifle pointed at me as one of the other two searched me.

"I'm Gerald Boswell," I said. "I live in Country Estates. My dad is William Boswell. Who won the war?"

"We did," the soldier said. The one searching me stood up and said I was clean. "Put your hands behind your back," the one in front of me said.

"Didn't you hear? My dad is William Boswell and…"

I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head and then everything turned black.

I woke up in a cell. A real cell, with just a cot and an open toilet and bars on the only wall that wasn't poured concrete from floor to ceiling. A single glaring bulb provided light. I had a big bump on the back of my head and when I tried to sit up I got dizzy. I was naked, laying on a bare mattress with no sheets or blankets, and it was hot and stuffy.

It took three attempts before I was able to stand and make my way to the bars. "Hey, is anyone there? I don't feel good; I think I need a doctor."

It hurt my head to shout, but it hurt a lot more when someone shouted back, "Shut the fuck up loser or I'll make it hurt a lot worse."

I sat back down on the cot and saw there was a small blood stain on the mattress where my head had been. I reached around and touched the bump, feeling where the skin had been broken open and the blood had finally crusted over. I tried to remember the symptoms of a concussion, but thinking hurt. All I had left to do was lay back down.

I had no idea how much time had passed or how long I lay there, but eventually I heard a noise and someone in clothes that lowers generally wore came by with a tray. He stopped outside my cell and ordered me to stand up. When I did he put a tray of food on the floor and told me to walk to the bars with my hands out in front of me. When I reached the bars with my hands on the outside he quickly cuffed them before pulling out a key and opening my cell door.

"Please, can you tell me why I'm here and what happened to my family?" I asked.

"You're here because nobody has bought you yet. And your family is probably dead. And if you say one more word I'll fuck your tight little virgin ass so hard you won't be able to stand again for a week." To emphasize what he was saying he stood behind me and leaned his groin into my butt. I could feel his erect dick poking me right in my crack. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But I was so deathly afraid that if I did any of those that he could lower his pants and fuck me for real. So I stood there and prayed.

"Good boy," he said as if I were a dog. He backed away and put the tray of food on my cot. Once the door was locked again he stood in front of me and reached through the bars and touched my dick. "From now on when I come you will have a boner. If you don't, you'll wish you had. Slide the tray under the door when you're done."

He unlocked the cuffs and left without another word. I felt sick, and not just because of the blow to the head I had suffered. I was in jail and didn't know why and I'd just been fondled and threatened with rape.

The food wasn't horrible, but it wasn't good either. But I was so hungry that I ate all I was given.

Telling time was impossible. The light was never turned off and there was no noise or light from outside to clue me in. The next time my jailer came I was sleeping and he had to wake me. I didn't have a boner, something he noticed as he cuffed my hands outside the bars again.

He set the tray of food on the floor in front of me and said, "You have one minute to get hard."

I was horrified and terrified, and I don't know how I managed, but somehow I did get hard. He reached through the bars and stroked my dick until I shot, but he aimed my dick down so that my stuff ended up in my food. "Next time you'd better be hard when I get here." He repeated the process of bringing my food in and then locking the door before releasing me. "Remember, next time have a boner or else you'll be eating my cum."

I was too hungry to not eat even though my food was flavored with my cum. But I made sure to have a boner the next time he came.

I guessed that I was being fed once a day. And every five days he came with a long fire hose and made me stand at attention while he hosed me off. The mattress would end up soaked, but it was as close to a shower as I was going to get.

Then one day the routine changed. He showed up without a tray of food. "I waited too long to buy you," he said. "Someone else beat me to it." He locked my hands outside the bars, but this time he used two cuffs, one for each hand. Once he entered he put a belt around my waist. A hood was pulled over my face, blinding me and making it hard to breath. Then one hand was released and roughly pulled down and locked to the belt with a strap. The other hand was un-cuffed and strapped as well, leaving me unable to move my wrists more than an inch in any direction.

"Let's go meet your new owner loser," he said as I was pushed along down the hallway and out through a series of doors.

I could tell that I was outside because I could hear people moving around me and conversations taking place, and instead of darkness under the hood there was a little light filtering through the rough fabric.

"Here he is Neil," I heard my jailer say. "Good as new."

"He smells," a young voice said. The voice sounded somewhat familiar.

"Hush," and adult woman's voice said. "You want to spend our money on this?" she asked. "He's too scrawny to work, and Ricky's right, he does have a very disagreeable odor about him."

"He isn't for you or for me," the adult male said. "He's for Ricky. He's smart, so he can help Ricky with school work. And he's strong enough to do chores around the house."

And then I knew it. The man and woman my father had hired to work around the house. Mr. and Mrs. Woodberry. And their son Ricky, who I'd used to do my chores. And that other thing. And then I remembered that other than the hood covering my head I was completely naked.

"He'll be yours as soon as I take care of the paperwork," my jailer said. "And get paid."

I heard the sound of paper and then there was a sharp jab in my arm. "That's his tracking chip. He is officially 137 now. That is his only name. If he or you forget that there will be problems. If he dies under your care due to neglect or mistreatment your boy there could be required to take his place. He must wear this collar at all times." A collar was pulled around my neck tight enough to make if very uncomfortable. "Hospitals, the army, the reform school, and of course any jail has the key to it if it needs to be removed for any reason. If he gets away you'll have to pay a fine to get him back, and you'd better report him as missing. Will he be going to reform school?"

"I think yeah, that's probably a good idea," Ricky's dad said.

"No dad, I can train him. Trent trained 118 by himself and he can help me."

"118 was younger, but okay, we'll try to let you do it. Remember the rules. You don't want to end up with a collar on."

"Aw dad, that's just something they say to scare you," Ricky said. "That's what Trent told me."

"Well, Trent is dead wrong," my jailer said. "There's sixteen freed kids that I know of that became slaves, and probably a bunch I don't know of. They take it very serious when they need to spend money saving a slave or burying one. I'd be mindful of the rules if I were you. But what the hell, I'll get paid just as much caring for you as I did for him, so go ahead and fuck up if you want."

"Mr. Bartley, that's uncalled for," Ricky's mother said. "My son doesn't use such language."

I knew for a fact that was wrong but I knew better than to say so.

"Yeah, he may not use the word, but with a slave as sweet as 137 here I'll bet he'll figure out how to do it soon enough."

"Okay, I think we're done here," Ricky's father said. "Go load 137 in the car."

I felt Ricky's fingers around the bottom of the hood and suddenly it was pulled back, bending my head back until I fell over. I would have landed on the back of my head if it wasn't trapped inside the hood.

"Here now, before you break his neck shorty," my jailer said. "You have to loosen the draw strings first." I felt his hands lift me up (with one finger in my butt) and then he loosened the draw strings and pulled the hood off. I was blinded by the bright sun, the first time I'd seen it in, well, I didn't know how long."

"If you want to keep the hood it'll cost you two more dollars."

"I want it dad," Ricky said. His dad told him to spend his own money, and he pulled out a wallet and I saw he had at least forty dollars in it. He paid the man. I wondered how he came into that much money. When his family worked for my dad that would have been a day's wages for the three of them.

"Come 137," Ricky said to me. It took me a second to realize that was my name. We went to a car I knew very well. A silver Mercedes Benz that cost over $100,000 when my dad bought it two years ago. Ricky opened the trunk and said, "Get in."

With my wrists still strapped to the belt around my waist it was difficult and finally Ricky helped. He slammed the trunk closed and I heard him get in the back seat of the car. A few seconds later I felt the car rock a bit and then two more doors closed.

"Dad, turn the noise on back there so we can talk," Ricky said. Five seconds later a shrill, piercing noise similar to fingernails on a chalk board went off all around me. I was totally deaf to whatever Ricky wanted to talk about.

I rolled around in the trunk every time the car turned. After a bit there was a thump and then the noise shut off. A few seconds later the trunk lid popped open. "Welcome home 137," Ricky said to me as he worked to pull me from the trunk. His father came and helped and he quickly got me out.

"He stinks Ricky. Get him in the back yard and have him use soap and the hose."

"I'll do it," Ricky said. "I'm not releasing his arms until I know for sure that he's going to behave."

"I guess you know your way around, so go to the back yard and stand at attention. I'll be there in a minute."

I took my first look at the house and nearly fainted. "It's my house," I said softly. But not soft enough.

Ricky's fist in my gut took me by surprise and I doubled over. "It's MY house. You're just a slave. You own nothing. You don't even have a name, just a number. 137 is all you own. Get used to it. And don't talk unless it's to answer a question or warn me of danger."

I was still half bent over as I headed towards the backyard. Ricky kicked me in the butt as I passed him. I got to the back yard and stood at attention, or at least as much as I could after having been punched in the gut. Rick appeared a few minutes later, dragging the hose behind him. He had a cleaning brush in one hand and a box of laundry detergent in the other.

The laundry detergent was gritty and harsh and hurt when he rubbed it on me. The brush was stiff and hurt even worse. Ricky giggled and laughed all through the washing, especially when he washed my dick and balls and made me cry and beg him to stop.

"Oh, you're going to pay for speaking without permission," he said. "Just wait until I get you up to my room. Remember what happened last time we were there? Guess what you're going to be doing."

The last time we were there, Ricky had accidently broken a plate while drying it. He begged me not to tell, and said he'd do anything if I'd cover for him. I knew he had no money; after all he was a lower. I had just turned fourteen and was horny as hell. He sucked me off three times that day, but I never did tell anyone he had broken the plate.

"Oh yeah 137. I'm going to put that mouth and ass of yours to work. And you know what? There isn't a single fucking thing you can do about it."

We went to my old room, his room now. Most of my stuff was still there. "I haven't been able to figure out the password to your computer. So if you give me the password I'll let you talk for a while."

"PeanutButterCrackers123," I told him. He typed it in and I had to correct him on capitals and spelling. But once he had the password right the computer came to life.

"Anything embarrassing to you on here?" he asked as he started looking through folders. "Porn, or pictures of you naked? Anything good like that?"

"There's a document with my name for the name. It's a journal."

"What the hell is a journal?" I was surprised at how little he knew. His spelling was terrible and I wasn't sure how much he could even read.

"A journal could be a magazine or letter, but in this case it's a chronicle, more like a diary."

He opened it and saw it was several hundred pages long, and said he'd look at that later.

"Do you know anything about my parents?" I asked. After all, he said I could talk.

"Truth is, I know nothing. There was a lot of confusion when this place was taken. The army wanted to maintain order, but the people just wanted to loot and kill the Privileged. There was a lot of people killed and not all of them in nice ways. I know there were a couple of mass graves. But I also know that some people did escape and make it to the North."

"How about Greg?" Greg was my brother. He was twelve, two years younger than me.

"No, I don't know nothing," he said angrily, but something about his manner suggested he did know something. "Stop asking about them, they're probably all dead and buried." He stopped looking through my computer and opened a desk drawer. "You just reminded me of something," he said. He had a small bottle of pills and shook out one that had been cut in half. "Open your mouth," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just because I said you could talk doesn't mean you don't have to do what I say or question me about anything. Now open up or I'll give this to you another way."

I opened my mouth and he dropped the half pill on my tongue. It was bitter, but I swallowed it.

"That's a pill to make you horny. It's my punishment to you for asking too many questions."

"It's like Viagra?" I dared to ask.

"No, that just gives you a boner. This pill makes you horny as hell. A quarter pill lasts for a couple of hours. I took a quarter just to see what they do and I was so Horney I jacked off six times! That half pill will last you the rest of the day. Unfortunately for you, I don't plan on ever letting you jack off again unless you really make me very happy, and even then I might not let you. So get ready to suffer. I tried to not jack off and it drove me crazy."

"Okay Ricky, I'm sorry I asked so many questions, but I didn't know."

"Jesus, maybe you do need to go to reform school," he said. "You don't every call me Ricky. I'm master. Your master. Other males, regardless of their age, are sirs, and you call girls madam. Calling someone by name is an offensive that I can use instruments that cause pain or even draw blood. So remember it."

"What if I meet another, uh, someone like me?"

"A slave? That's what you are. And you're my slave. Except for very unusual times, slaves don't have a name, only a number. If you don't know their number don't talk to them unless I tell you to. And there are some slaves that may order you about to. You are the lowest of the three ranks of slaves. You don't give orders to anyone at any time."

"Are there other rules that I don't know about?"

"Your life is simple. You do anything I tell you. You don't talk back or question any order. The only time you can act on your own is to help or save a non-slave, like if the house is on fire you can go and wake people up. You don't go in any room without permission. And just so that everyone knows you're a total piss-ant, I'm keeping you naked all the time. A few slaves get some clothing, but not you. You're as low a human as anyone can be."

I realized I was starting to have thoughts about jacking off, and my dick was rising to the occasion. But my wrists were still strapped to the belt around my waist so there was nothing I could do about it. Ricky noticed however, and smiled from ear-to-ear.

"It's just starting, but it's going to get worse. And it will last for hours. And just to make it worse, I order you to stand there and watch while I jack off, just so you know what you're missing." He lowered his pants and underwear to his knees and laid down on my, well, his bed. He was already hard and began slowly stroking his dick.

And it was horrible. The pill really did do much more than just give you a boner. I wanted to jack off or fuck anything. My arms pulled as hard as they could on the straps without gaining any slack. And watching him do what I so desperately wanted to do was a torture in itself. He was taking his time, and several time when it looked like he was about to shoot he smiled, looked at me, and stopped jacking for a few seconds until the feeling passed, delaying his climax so that he could torture me longer. But finally he couldn't hold back and his dick erupted, shooting glob after glob of white cum on his belly.

I could barely stand. I wanted to do anything to do what he had just done. And then he made it worse. "Bend over and lick it all clean. And don't forget my dick."

Licking it off his belly was disgusting, but once I'd completed that I had to move to his dick. By then he was hard again, his four and a half inches [11 cm] standing straight up. "Do it, and don't stop until I cum again," he ordered. "And if I'm still horny after that, you can do it again!"

I had never in my life sucked a dick. In fact, his was one of three boys my age who's dick I had ever seen, and one of the others wasn't even hard. I must have rubbed my teeth across his sensitive skin because he yelled at me and warned me to never touch him with my teeth. I went up and down on his shaft and he told me to use more tongue. It didn't talk long until I saw him tense up and a moment later he shot several more globs of cum into my mouth.

"Oh yeah, that's great. Stand there for a minute while I recover and then do it again," he said to me. I thought I was going to go crazy from the effects of the pill he gave me, and in the four or five hours it took to wear off he made me suck him three more times. He kept my arms strapped to the belt the rest of the day, even having our dinner brought to his room where he feed me. That night I slept on a cot in his room with my legs spread to the sides and tied off so that I couldn't even roll over to one side and rub my dick on the mattress. This was apparently to be my life under Ricky's rules.

The next week taught me how desperate my position was. Most days Ricky gave me only a quarter of one of the pills, but even that was pure torture while the effects lasted. Ricky fitted a clear plastic cover over the front of my belt so that I was unable to touch myself but could have my hands free to do chores. I had to clean his room, vacuum the whole house, clean up after every meal, cut the grass, and of course, give Ricky blowjobs. At least so far he hasn't invaded my ass.

Then one day he said, "School starts tomorrow and you're coming, so make sure you get me up by six so we have time for some fun before breakfast." By fun, I already knew it would be something fun for him but definitely not fun for me.

Sure enough, the first thing he wanted to do after going to the bathroom was get a blowjob. Then he had me bath him, which always ended with me giving him a hand job. While he dried and dressed I had to clean the tub.

"Your old school was burned down during the freedom fight, so we're going to my old school," he told me. I had a backpack with gym clothes, books, paper, notebooks, and pens and pencils, all for him. For me, I had the see-through plastic apron, the collar around my neck, and shoes on, nothing more. I'd always hated the uniform I had to wear to school, but I would have gladly worn it today instead of being essentially naked.

"I'm starting seventh grade," he said proudly. "I expect you to take good notes for me. If I get bad grades, you'll wish you'd helped me more." I assumed that meant I'd be punished, but once we were on the bus I found out it could be worse. The bus drove on to the next stop, where just two boys were waiting to board. Both looked older and bigger than us.

"So you did get a slave after all," one of the boy's said to him after they boarded. "But with your grades I'll bet you have to sell him by the end of the first marking period. Maybe my pa will buy him for me and then I'll let you watch while I fuck him just so you know what you lost."

"He's smart, he used to be a privileged," Ricky said. That actually impressed the boy who was talking to him. "So my grades will be okay."

"How'd your old man afford to buy a privileged?" I thought they were all bought up in the first couple of days after the freedom fight."

"He wasn't that much. Some guy held on to him for a month. Said he's too scrawny for labor and too small for sex." That was the first time I knew how long I'd been in jail. A month! I never thought it had been that long. If there had been word about my parents or brother someone would have heard it by now. I could still hope they were alive, that was better than believing I was all alone. But I wasn't sure I wanted to think about Greg being a slave to someone like I was.

"Don't try to kid us, we know your dad kept a lot of the money he found in that house you live in. You'd better be careful or he could end up having to sell you to pay the fine. Maybe my dad would buy you for me, that would be cool." Ricky looked away, the fear obvious on his face. "Send him back to keep me and Luke company," the boy said.

"He's my slave, not yours," Ricky said. "He..."

"Does he fight to protect you?" the boy asked. "Probably wouldn't do you any good anyway. Looking at his skinny arms and tiny dick he couldn't do much. You'd probably be a better fight." The bus driver yelled to them to sit down and they boy added, "Send him back if you know what's good for you," before heading to the back of the bus.

"You'd better follow them," Ricky said to me. He looked scared, but not as scared as I was as I followed the two bigger boys to the back of the bus.

"Have you been giving Woodberry blowjobs?" one of them asked me. I nodded my head yes, not sure if I was allowed to talk or not. "Good, then you've got some experience." He got in next to the window and the other boy pushed me in next to him. Then the other boy stood guard while the boy next to the window exposed his dick. It was big, much bigger than Ricky's, surrounded by thick black hair.

Later, when the bus stopped to pick up more kids I was sent back to Ricky after blowing both of them. I had cum dripping down my chin and was told not to wipe it off until Ricky said I could. But of greater importance was the big cum stain on the inside of the plastic apron.

Ricky noticed it right away. "What's that from," he asked.

"They asked me why I had the apron on and I told them. Then they asked if I'd get in trouble if I shot, and I told them probably. So then one of them touched me and made me shoot. I'm sorry Ricky, I didn't want them to do it."

"That's a lie, you were near death from horniness," Ricky said. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that you had some enjoyment that I didn't authorize. I want you to tell me that you want me to punish you."

It was an order from my master, and I couldn't refuse. However, I did hesitate, trying to think of something that would cause him to have some sympathy for me. But I saw the anger in his eyes when I didn't speak. "I want you to punish me," I said.

"See Trent?" Ricky said to the kid across the aisle. "That's how it's done. You're too nice to 118. But I've got an idea for a really good punishment for 137 at your house after school." I thought I was off the hook for now, but Ricky told me to give him the backpack. He opened it and took out something that he concealed in his hand. But there was no mistaking the odor. Vicks Vapor Rub. A common smell from before. He stuck two fingers in the jar and then rubbed a big blob of it on my balls.

I knew what was coming. I'd had it on my chest many times, and it burned there, especially once when my mom got it on my nipples. But knowing it was coming did nothing to help when the heat started and keep building up until I was banging on the outside of the plastic apron trying to get my hand on my balls which were on fire. Tears were running down my face as Ricky and Trent sat there laughing.

"Oh yeah, I will use that on 118 if he ever disobeys me," Trent said.

I spent the rest of the trip to school in agony and humiliation.

Once inside the school the humiliation grew even as the fire on my balls diminished. I'd had dreams about being naked in school, but they weren't as bad as actually being naked surrounded by hundreds of kids my age who all pointed and laughed or giggled at me. I couldn't prevent my dick from getting hard, which only increased the humiliation.

We got to Ricky's first class and I was told to knee on the floor next to him. Until the teacher called for order I was the subject of nearly every conversation in the room.

"Ricky' who's your slave?" the teacher asked.

"This is 137," Ricky said. "I just got him last week. He's going to help me get my grades up."

"Okay to study with him, but he will not be helping you on any tests, so you have to learn the material and not rely on him." The teacher then went on with introducing the topics they would cover in this class. Unlike my seventh grade where we had a different teacher for every subject, this was apparently the only teacher for all of them.

At lunch I found that I was not the only slave in school. I saw two other boys, neither of whom I recognized. One boy was naked, like me, but the other had a towel running from the front of his belt to the back and thus hiding his junk. And then a girl came by with a girl slave. She was as naked as I was, and since it the first girl I'd ever seen naked other than on the internet, I wasn't looking at her face.

Her master asked her, "Have you ever seen a naked boy before 88?"

"Yes Master, him. But it was a few years ago."

That made me raise my eyes to her face. She was the girl who lived next door. When I was seven I had just finished my bath and knew my favorite TV show was on. Since my parents saw me naked frequently, I didn't bother putting my pajamas on and just ran to the family room naked and jumped up in my favorite chair. My show had already started. "Did I miss anything?" I asked.

"No, but neither am I," she said. Her parents had to go out suddenly and they left her at my house. And she was looking at me then the same way I'd been looking at her now.

"He's grown," she said. "In more ways than one."

Her master, who I found out was Laura, and Ricky and Trent all wanted to hear the story and made me tell it. There was laughter all around, including some from 88, which got her master angry.

"I know how to punish her," Ricky said. I could see the huge tent in his pants and thought I knew what he had in mind, but he surprised me. "Let 137 touch her, you know, inside her. He could open her up and let us see."

"I like that idea," Laura said, and a few seconds later I had my hand in the first pussy I'd ever touched. Normally it would have been pleasurable, but 88 was crying, and the only reason she didn't try to stop me was because she was a slave. Trent and Ricky leaned in close to watch as I spread her lips apart and gave them a look inside.

"Tell them where it is and tell 137 to touch it until you wet yourself," Laura said.

"That little bump at the top, just a little deeper than your finger is now," she said through her tears. "That's my Clitoris, gently rub it through the hood over it." She was crying, but guided me. I could feel it swelling up, kind of like a dick, and then suddenly she moaned and this hot, sticky water flooded my hand.

"There, you gave her an orgasm," Laura said. "Probably the only time you'll ever to that with a female again, so I hope you enjoyed it." Laura had 88 stand up and led here away. It was only then that I saw we had been the center of about a dozen boys, all of whom had obvious erections.

"Let's go to the rest room," Trent said. "I need 137 to take care of something for me."

The other boys followed and for the next fifteen minutes I went from one to another giving each boy who had witnessed it a blowjob. Then it was back to class, and I hadn't even had a chance to eat my lunch. But I had a constant erection that demanded I give it attention I was prevented from giving. I had always enjoyed school, but if this was going to be a typical day then I had a long, hard road ahead of me.

We got off the bus at Trent's stop and he ran ahead. When Ricky and I got there Ricky entered without knocking and took us to the living room. My hands were strapped to the belt and the plastic apron removed. Ricky told me that I was going to meet 118 but I wasn't allowed to say a word. "118 is one step above you, so you will of course do anything he wants or tells you to do," Ricky said. This was all very mysterious.

Then Trent appeared, leading 118 into the room. 118 had a hood on that completed covered his face.

"118, this is 137," Trent said, holding 118's hand out to mine. I took it and shook it. "137 isn't allowed to talk, but he is the worst form of live on the planet, so if there is anything you want all you have to do is ask."

It wasn't natural, it had to have been rehearsed. But when 118 said, "I want him to tell me he wants me to fuck him," I immediately recognized the voice. It was my twelve-year-old brother Greg. I looked down and saw the scar on his leg to be sure. A scar I had put there two years ago during play. And then I knew why he had the mask on and why I wasn't allowed to talk. He didn't know it was me. I wanted to cry more than ever. I finally find my brother and I can't tell him it's me, instead I have to somehow tell him to fuck me.

Trent held Greg's hand to my head. "He's nodding his head yes," he said. Ricky nudged me to make me nod.

I was pushed by Ricky onto the couch and my legs lifted over the back of the couch. Trent maneuvered Greg over to me and I saw his dick was already hard. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stop this. But I didn't dare.

"Here wait a second," Trent said. He handed a jar of Vaseline to Greg and said, "Rub this on your dick first like I did before fucking you."

Now it was even worse for me. A fate that hadn't happened to me yet (but was about to) had already been done to my little brother. He rubbed a lot on and then leaned forward into me. I could feel his dick poking in between my ass checks.

"It'll hurt a lot unless you relax and push like you're taking a dump," Trent said to me. I could already feel the pain as Greg tried to drive into me and did the best I could at following Trent's advice and found it really did make it better.

My brother was inside me and began driving in and out. I could hear him grunt with pleasure and feel his dick getting even bigger. Then he tensed and shot. I could feel every burst, and there were several.

"This is the first time 118's been allowed to cum in a week," Trent said with a laugh. "He had a lot saved up for you."

Once he was done he was led away. I was crying, not able to tell him goodbye. And I wondered if I would ever see him again, and if so, would he ever be able to see me.

"Come again tomorrow and you can blow him," Trent said.

"Speaking of which, you want one now?" Ricky asked him.

"Naw, 118 is going to do that for me. You enjoy him and I'll see you tomorrow on the bus."

When we got home, the first thing Ricky wanted was to do what he'd just seen my brother do. He made me spread Vaseline on his dick before he rode me, shooting glob after glob into my ass. A new phase of master-slave had been entered.

The weeks went on. Ricky really enjoyed fucking me. He shared me with several of his friends too. Every few days we went to Trent's house where Greg was allowed to either fuck me or have me suck him, and once it was both. I was prevented from touching my dick for three weeks and could hardly stand it. I was sure I was losing my mind. And then one Friday Ricky said he'd had an offer that I was going to enjoy.

"Remember that girl, 88, the one who you got to feel up? She did something wrong, and Laura wants her to return the favor. So tomorrow we're going to spend the day with Laura and 88's going to give you a blow job. Actually, probably more than one because if you're hard, which is like always, she has to suck you. So tomorrow I'll give you a full pill so you'll really be ready for her."

I was torn between knowing my misery of not cumming for weeks was at least temporarily coming to an end and knowing the girl was going to be made to do it for punishment. The weather had been turning cooler, which was a problem since I was always kept naked, but at least Saturday was sunny and warm. We met Laura and 88 in a park. Five of Ricky's friends were there too, but not Trent. Ricky did something new that morning, instead of strapping my arms to the belt around my waist they were fastened with wrist straps attached to my collar.

I was very hard and extremely horny by the time we got there and Laura wasted no time in having 88 satisfy my needs. Never in my life had I ever had a blow job, and it had been so long since I'd had physical contact with my dick that I began shooting after just a few seconds in her mouth. But because of the pill I wasn't sated. As the day went on and she kept sucking me off it became less and less pleasant.

I'm sure it wasn't fun for her either. I was hard, but my balls were empty, there was nothing left to shoot and she had to just keep on sucking. Finally, after three dry cums that took about fifteen minutes each Laura called a halt to it. For me. She then said that any boy who wanted one only had to ask.

All six boys wanted one until it was revealed that Laura wasn't going to leave or even turn her back. Only three of the boys were comfortable enough (or horny enough) to expose themselves in front of Laura. Ricky wasn't one of them, so while Laura worked her way through three more boys Ricky led me away and I got to do him and his other two friends.

Even though I'd had some relief from Laura, I was still constantly wishing I could cum. Finally, one day when I was supposed to be helping Ricky with his homework he complained that I wasn't concentrating. Instead of punishing me he asked why and I told him.

"Since I need you in order to learn this shit, I'll let you jack off once a week." To show he meant it, he released my arms and told me go to the bathroom and take care of it. I literally ran there. But there was a price. He then demanded that I remove all my pubic hair and keep it removed. That was a small price to pay, but it still made me feel bad. I now looked younger than Ricky, not older.

Report cards came and Ricky's wasn't great but it was the best he'd ever gotten. He demanded my mouth and ass more and more as time passed. Then one day out of the blue he asked me if our roles were reversed would I treat him the same way he was treating me.

"No, never," I said. I thought I was being honest, but then I'd never been in the position of 'owning' a boy from whom I could demand almost anything. But I didn't need to share my private doubts with him. But thinking about it made me realize I hadn't seen my brother in two weeks. "How come we don't visit Trent and 118 anymore?"

"You'll find out about Trent tomorrow I think," he said. He looked odd-scared or confused, I couldn't tell which. "And they had to sell 118. He's gone, I don't know where." I had gotten to know all of Ricky's tells over the months I'd been his slave and I knew the last statement was a lie. But I didn't dare push him on it. But now I was more scared from Greg than before. And worried about was Ricky was worried about.

"Is there any money hidden here? Anything that we didn't already find?" he asked me.

I was stuck. I had assumed they had found everything, but maybe not. I decided it was better to tell him than to have him find out later and punish me for not telling him. "Did you open the safe?"

"There's a safe?" he asked. I told him which painting it was behind and the combination. He left, but when he came back he said, "There's over a thousand dollars in there. I need to think; we'll work on homework later. Go work on chores."

He didn't say anything the rest of the evening or before bed. He didn't even tell me to jack him off in the bath. But the next day I found out what he was worked up about.

I had learned to be cautious around the two bullies who frequently picked on Ricky on the bus. Ricky had told me their names, Luke Armstrong and Kevin Daily. I was looking out the window at the stop where they get on and saw Trent. Only Trent was naked except for a collar, a belt, and shoes. Just like me. Trent's hands were fastened to the collar and he was crying.

"Look who my dad bought for me," Luke said, pushing Trent forward. "Come back to the back, 197 here can't wait to suck your dick for you."

"And you'd better enjoy it now because my dad is already looking into how you managed to get a slave on his salary," Kevin said. If he didn't give any money he acquired during the freedom fight to the authorities, my dad will be buying you for me."

Ricky looked scared as he followed them to the back of the bus. I was told to stay where I was. He returned and said nothing, but the rest of the day in school he was too nervous to do anything. We even skipped lunch, leaving me hungry. I wondered what would happen to me if what Kevin said came to pass. Life as a slave sucked, being a slave to Ricky was horrible, but I was smart enough to know that Ricky was probably a far better master than Luke or Kevin. So now I was worried sick too.

We didn't go to school the next day. Ricky spent time on the computer but he wouldn't let me see what he was working on. Then he paced. I tried to ask him what was going on but he just became angry so I left him alone. But I knew that whatever he was doing it would affect me somehow.

After a few hours he got the ding that told him he had mail. He went back to the computer and read it, then he went to the safe. He came back and said, "We're leaving, now. Don't say anything, don't act odd, just come with me. I've sold you, but maybe it will save me and Trent. If it works. If I can trust Mr. Bartley."

It took me a few minutes to figure out where I'd heard that name, but when it came to me I froze. It was what Ricky's mother had said to him when he handed me over to Ricky. He had been my jailer. And jail with Mr. Bartley was far worse than slave with Ricky. But there was no escape. I had a collar on, I had to be with my master. And if I ran, they could track me though the tracking chip he had put in me.

We hurried straight to the place where I'd been taken after jail. Mr. Bartley was waiting for us.

"Welcome back 137," he said to me. He looked at my hairless groin and said, "You look like you're twelve. I like that." Then he turned to Ricky. "You sure you want to do this boy?" he asked Ricky. Ricky nodded his head. "You know that there's no guaranties, and after you do this you can't change your mind. Do you trust me?"

"No, not very much," Ricky said.

"Good answer. You have the money and the paperwork?"

Ricky handed over a big wad of bills and a stack of papers stapled in the top corner. "Okay, I'll do what I can," Mr. Bartley said. "Now let's get you processed. I can do this one of two ways. You can just follow my directions or I'll bash your head in and do it myself. My desire to risk trying to meet your requests is affected by how much work I have to do."

I was confused, I had no idea what was going on. And then Mr. Bartley told Ricky to strip. Ricky hesitated a few seconds and then stripped. He was collared and a chip injected into him, just like I had been. "You are no longer Rick Woodberry," he said. "You are now number 203. Until I find buyers for you both you're coming with me."

He led the way back into the jail and put us in separate cells, but he did release my hands from the straps. "No talking. There are microphones in here and if you talk without permission I'll take a strap to you. You no longer have any rights. You are both slaves, and until a buyer comes along you're my slaves to use as I wish. I'm sure 137 here knows how that works. When you hear me coming you stand at the bars, and you'd better have a boner."

I was back in jail, unable to understand what Ricky had done. And I was especially curious about why he did it. But I didn't dare talk. I had no doubts about the kind of treatment I could expect from my new master if I disobeyed him.

The next time he came I stood up. Unfortunately, my freedom of movement allowed me the chance to jack off, and I'd done it three or more times. But that made it hard for me to get a boner when I heard the door at the end of the hall open. I looked over at Ricky's cell and saw he also did not have a boner. He just stared at me as I stroked my dick, trying my hardest to get it stiff.

He set the trays down and took one look at me and Ricky. "You should know better. And you're covered in cum. I never told you it was okay for you to play with yourself. Hands through the bars."

I knew the routine and pushed my hands through the bars, but this time he pulled them lower and handcuffed them to a cross bar two feet [0,5 m] off the floor. I started to drop to my knees but he told me to stand with my legs out to the sides.

He entered and I heard the rustling of clothing before he moved up behind me. "You're a disgusting little slave, and you violated a rule. I'll bet next time you'll be ready when I show up." Immediately I felt his dick pressing against my ass. Unlike last time, it wasn't under his clothing.

Ricky had fucked me a dozen times or more, as had my brother, but neither of them had a dick even close to as thick and long as Mr. Bartley had. And he didn't waste any time trying to be gentle, he just rammed it in, causing me to cry out in pain.

"That's right, scream all you want," he said as he slammed into me and began pumping in and out until finally he came, filling my insides with his cum. He left my cell with his pants still inside and went to Ricky's cell.

"Hands outside," he said. When Ricky complied he locked them just as mine were. "Grab my dick and make it hard again," he ordered.

"Please sir, no, don't…"

"You said 'no' to your master?" he yelled. "I wasn't going to fuck you but now I will. Get me hard now!"

Ricky looked like he was going to puke as he grabbed the man's pole and started rubbing it, bringing it back to life. He was already crying.

"Suck it and I'll forget about fucking you. This time."

Ricky sucked what was probably his first dick, looking very ill. It took him several bats to the side of his head before he caught on to how to give a blow job, and then it took nearly three minutes before Mr. Bartley shot again.

"You two had better remember what you are and where you are," he said. He brought my tray into my cell and I could hear him getting dressed again. He left, locking my cell door but he didn't release me. My legs were getting stiff from the position I was standing in and my ass hurt like it never had before.

He put Ricky's tray on his cot and locked his cell door before releasing Ricky. "Don't think this punishment is over," he said. "It'll continue next time I'm here." He looked at me for a few seconds before laughing. "Thought you had it bad with your former master, but now you know what a real dick feels like. I'm looking forward to next time." Then he freed me. "Remember, boners when I get here," he said as he walked up the hall.

Again, it was impossible to judge the passing of time. The lights outside our cells flooded them with bright light 24 hours a day and there was no view of outside to give a clue as to the changing of the days. But the next time he came in I was ready and had no trouble getting a boner. I glanced at Ricky and saw he too had one. Only this time the jailer wasn't alone.

"Good, glad to see you learned your lesson," Mr. Bartley said to us after seeing we had boners. "These are a couple of kids that paid me good money to meet you. That one is Nelson and this is Jim. They're going to entertain themselves with you while I prepare your meals. Hands outside the cells."

He handcuffed us in the same position as last time before unlocking the cell door. The two boys, who looked to be about my age, entered. Nelson came in my cell and Jim went into Ricky's cell.

"Have fun boys," Mr. Bartley said as he left. I was pretty sure he wasn't talking to me or Ricky.

While neither boy was as big as Mr. Bartley, it still hurt when Nelson plunged his dick into my ass. And it was Ricky's first time being fucked and I heard him crying out in pain as Jim did the same to him. After riding us until they came, they switched and ordered us to use our mouths to get them hard again. Once hard, they fucked us again, this time Jim on me and Nelson on Ricky. They were just finishing up when Mr. Bartley returned with the food trays.

I don't know how long we were there. The boys came in twice more and fucked us, and we were feed seven more times, so if we were feed daily as I expected then it had been a week. The next time Mr. Bartley came in he didn't have food trays.

"I have a couple of buyers interested in you, but the offer isn't good enough yet. I might be inclined to accept it if you two will sweeten the deal a little. There's a couple of boys who've been looking for you and asked me if I knew where you were. They're names are Luke Armstrong and Kevin Daily, and they have a few dollars to spend. Tell me you want them to spend a few hours with you and maybe that'll be enough to make me accept the offer."

"Is it the buyer I told you to contact?" Ricky asked.

"I didn't say ask me questions," Mr. Bartley said with anger. "I told you to tell me if you want your friends to have some time with you. Answer that question or shut the fuck up."

I hadn't been able to say a word the whole time I'd been here, but now I was afraid to speak since I had no idea what angle Ricky was working. I wasn't willing to let the two bullies 'visit' with me, but apparently Ricky saw it as his last hope. "We want them to join us," he said.

A few minutes later our arms were locked to the collars and we had an ankle cuff with a four-foot-long [1.2 m] chain locked to a cell bar. The doors to the cells were left open when Bartley left. A few minutes later the door opened and the two bullies entered. Trent was with them. I could see bruises in several places on his body.

"So, I see you finally got what you deserved 203," Luke said. "Now that I know you're a slave and up for sale I'll have my dad buy you tomorrow. And then we can have a lot of fun together for the rest of our lives."

"By the way, 197 is glad we're here, mostly because it means we'll be fucking you instead of him. Hopefully you won't scream and cry as much as he does so we don't have to gag you. And who knows, we might even let him have his way with you."

Over the next several hours they alternated fucking me and Ricky. Their dicks showed that they weren't much older than me, maybe even the same age, but they were thicker than the two boys Mr. Bartley had brought in a while back. And, just to make it worse, Kevin made Ricky suck Trent's dick.

It took a while, but eventually they couldn't get their dicks hard again and they left, taking Trent with them. Bartley didn't show up again until he brought us food. I couldn't use my hand to get my dick hard, but somehow I still managed, as did Ricky. He laughed at us as he set the trays down on the floor inside our cells.

"I think I'll just leave you like you are," he said. "You can eat like dogs today. But the boys were happy and they promised me a good offer tomorrow for at least one of you. I'll let you know which deal I accept."

We had no choice but to kneel on the ground and lick our food from the bowl since our hands were still bound to the collar. It made for a very unsettling night, if it truly was night.

When he next came he said he had two offers and wanted Ricky to tell him which he should take. But like all his deals, it came with a horrible price.

"I've got one from a Gary Daily for 203," he said. "And the other for both 203 and 137. Now neither offer is as much as I want, but I can make up the difference with some other kids that are horny enough to want to come and fuck a couple of slaves. So a blowjob for me and, I don't know, maybe a half-dozen horny kids and I'll take the deal for both of you. Which is it to be?"

I could see that Ricky really wanted to know more about the deal for both of us, but this time he didn't ask, which was probably good. "The deal for both of us would be better for you master," he said.

"Excellent," Barley said. "You were going to suck me off no matter which deal I took, but at least this way I make a few more dollars." He unzipped his pants and moved straight over to Ricky, who hesitated for just a few seconds before taking it in his mouth. Barley groaned as Ricky sucked on him, and when he shot he grabbed the back of Ricky's head and drove his dick further into Ricky's mouth with each burst. When he finally withdrew Ricky coughed and gagged, but Barley ignored him. "I'll have some more company here for you in a little while.

It wasn't six, or even eight. Ten kids, one of them couldn't have been older than ten, came walking down the hall talking and laughing nervously as they approached. Our cell doors were open but there was no escape.

"They stink," one of the boys said. I looked them over and realized I had seen all but the youngest one at Ricky's school. One was two years ahead of Ricky, so he would be about fifteen, but the others were all in the same grade as Ricky so they'd be thirteen or fourteen. The youngest one was probably a brother to one of the others. They clearly recognized me and Ricky too.

Even though we were slaves and forced to let them do anything they wanted, they were still nervous and unsure until the littlest one said, "Well, you guys can stand there all day if you want, but I came to get a blowjob." He started removing his pants and the others all followed suit.

It must have taken several hours before they were done and Ricky and I were worn out and sore. We'd each been fucked again a dozen times and given countless blow jobs. One thing about kids just entering puberty, they can get hard and come many, many times.

We were taken out in the dark of night, and even Mr. Barley looked nervous as he intently watched the streets while he drove us somewhere. We each had handcuffs on, locked behind our back. He was driving slowly, below the speed limit and made sure to stop completely at every stop sign. Finally, I saw some landmarks I knew. He was taking us to the old army base that was supposed to protect our city from the lowers but which instead had led the revolt.

As we pulled up to a gate, someone in uniform opened it and Barley turned the headlights off as we passed. He drove up to where four men in uniforms were standing and stopped and got out. I saw the exchange of paperwork and money.

"I think he's really going to do it," Ricky said to me. Before I ask what it was he was doing he came back and opened the back door to the car. "Hurry and get on board before someone comes," he said. He pulled us out without worrying about bumping our heads or legs. As soon as we were standing on pavement he pointed towards another car and said, "Go, get in and don't ever come back." As we walked towards the other car he got in his car and drove away.

"Hurry up you bastards," one of the men in uniform said in a quiet but demanding voice. We were pushed into the back seat. The driver was already there and he started off before the doors were even closed. He drove off the base and then headed north. It was uncomfortable sitting in the back with our hands cuffed behind us, but somehow I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke up it was dawn. "I need to pee," I said.

"You pee in this car and I'll gut you like a pig and leave you on the side of the road," the driver said. "We're nearly there."

We drove another fifteen minutes or so and I saw a double fence row stretching out in each direction with a tank blocking the road, it's turret pointed at us. The car pulled up and men with guns rushed over to the car. "Don't say a fucking word," the driver hissed at us.

He got out, his hands in the air, and he was searched. We couldn't hear what he said, but he pointed to the papers they had taken from him and then back at the car. They talked for several more minutes before two of the soldiers walked back and opened the back doors. "Get out," they ordered us.

We were taken around the tank as our driver got back in the car and turned it around and headed back down the road we'd been on. Papers were stuffed in our belts and we were told to walk to the next gate, about fifty yards away.

There, more soldiers watched as we approached, rifles aimed at us until an officer came out of the building and said, "I don't think their hiding any explosives," and the guards lowered their weapons. He pulled the paperwork and read it. "Wait here," he said.

"I have to pee," I said, hoping it wouldn't result in a punishment for speaking.

"Do it over there," the officer said, pointing to the side. "Stay on this side of the fence or you'll get shot, but go far enough along the inside of the fence so we don't have to smell it all day. And stay on the path, the area between the fences is mined."

As I peed, Ricky beside me doing the same, I realized we must be at the border between the free lands (as the lowers now called the territory they took from the privileged) and the rest of the world. "What the hell did you do?" I asked Ricky, finally getting a chance to talk to him.

"If it worked, I got Mr. Bartley to contact your parents and buy us," he said. "I didn't think it would work, and it was a real risk, so I didn't want to tell you and get your hopes up. And anything could still go wrong. They aren't supposed to sell slaves over the border but I heard it happens. We're still slaves here, so we'd better not be caught talking." He wiggled his hips to whip off the last few drops and returned to the guard house.

When I joined him we were ordered to stand in the sun facing the north, just inside the last barrier. And we were told not to talk.

Time passed slowly as sweat ran down our bodies and the sun baked our skin. I was fearing I near to fainting when I heard the sound of vehicles approaching from the north. The guards came out, weapons at the ready, and the tank swiveled its turret around to it was facing north, with us in front of it.

There were one van and a bus. The van had news station logos on the side, and as the doors opened a man with a TV camera began aimed it at us while a reporter rushed to talk to us until the soldiers cocked their weapons and ordered them to halt.

The bus pulled up behind them and I nearly did faint as my father got out and slowly approached the soldiers, holding papers out in front of him. He was allowed to approach and the officer took the papers. My father stared at me as he waited.

"Everyone out of the vehicles," the officer ordered. "Line up here." I could hear more soldiers coming up from behind us.

"Oh shit, no," Ricky said. "We were so close!"

I wanted to run to my father but he calmly signaled to the bus for everyone to get out. I was suddenly horrified to see kids I had known from before the war getting of the bus. There were about twenty of them, boys and girls, and I was standing there naked in front of them.

"Stop filming," the officer ordered. "Everyone, kneel on the ground, hands in the air. If any of you have a weapon here or in the vehicles you will all be arrested."

The last two people off the bus were my mom and Greg. Greg was dressed, obviously no longer a slave, but he was crying, I didn't know why. Maybe he knew he was about to re-enter slavery. I watched as other soldiers ran to each of the vehicles and searched them. It took time, especially the news van.

After the search was complete the soldiers did hands-on searches of everyone kneeling in the dirt. I saw a look of disgust on my mom's face as a hand did a complete search of her groin. Everything from their pockets was taken and brought back to the officer, who removed all the money, jewelry, and anything of value before give the rest back to the soldiers who dumped them on the ground in front of the row of kneeling people.

"I could arrest you all just for being here," the officer said. He looked hard at Greg, who was still crying and staring at me. Then he looked at me, and saw my focus was on Greg. He pointed to Greg and said, "Get up. Come here."

Greg looked at dad, who nodded, and then walked over to the officer.

"Cross the line."

"No," Greg said softly.

The officer pulled a sidearm from his holster and cocked it and held it up to my head. "Cross the line."

Greg took two more steps, taking him inside the edge of the barrier arm and close to me.

"Who is this," he asked, pointing at me.

"That's my brother," Greg said. "Gerry Boswell."

The officer used his bare hand to punch Greg in the side of his head, knocking him down. The gun that was aimed at the side of my head never wavered. "Who is he," he demanded of Greg.

"He's 137. Sir."

"That's better. You used to be like him, weren't you."

"Yes sir," Greg said.

"But somehow you escaped. You know there is no escape. Once sold as a slave you are a slave for life."

I saw Greg's knees begin to shake.

"Yet I have no proof you were once a slave. Do you want to own this slave?"

Greg hesitated, not sure what the right answer was to the officer's question. "Yes sir, I do," he said after a few seconds of thought.

"Then order him to suck your dick and I'll let you own him."

Greg started to turn to look at the line of people kneeling on the ground behind him but the officer stopped him from looking. I was sure Greg thought my return would be different than this and that was why he brought a group of my friends and his to witness it. Now he and all of them were in great danger.

"Kneel," he ordered me. I dropped to my knees as he unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out. "Suck it," he ordered.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't care that twenty kids and my parents were watching me give a blowjob to my little brother, I saw it as the only way I could cross the border. I worked on him the way Ricky had taught me and quickly brought his flaccid dick to a full erection and then to climax.

"Don't swallow it yet," the officer ordered. "Stand up and open your mouth and show all those kids how a slave follows orders." Feeling very ashamed, I opened my mouth, letting some of Greg's cum trickle down my chin.

"Go and find someone who wants to own this slave," the officer said, pointing to Ricky. "Tell whomever you pick to come up here and do the same as you did. Tell that person this slave is number 203."

Greg walked back and up to a friend of his I knew named Steve Benson. They talked for a few seconds, I was sure Greg was giving him very strict instructions on how to behave and what to do. Then Greg took Steve's spot kneeling on the ground while Steve approached.

"May I cross the line sir?" he asked the officer.

"That depends. Do you wish to own this slave?"

"Yes sir," Steve said.

"Then cross the line and prove you're worthy to be his master."

As Greg had done with me, Steve did to Ricky. Ricky knew what to do, and he'd had enough practice giving blow jobs while in jail to make quick work of a boy who seemed totally embarrassed.

"You, and you, come here," the officer said, pointed first at Greg and then at the camera man. The two of them nervously walked forward.

"These two have agreed to be masters to these slaves. I want you to shoot their homecoming and first day back at school and send it to me," he said, handing over a business card. "They are to remain slaves for at least two weeks. Failure to do this will mean there are no more slaves sold across the border."

He unlocked the handcuffs but ordered Greg and Steve to attach their slave's wrists to their collars. "They are your slaves. There are hundreds of other kids whose parents would like to buy them back. If you fail to treat them as slaves, I will not allow any others to cross ever again. This is their only chance, so it is up to you. You will keep your slaves naked for a minimum of two weeks."

"We have spies on your side of the border, so I will know if you cheat. And, if you aren't careful, your slaves can be kidnapped and taken back here for sale to people who know how to treat slaves. And remember, two weeks is the minimum time. The longer you keep them as slaves the more people I'm willing to let cross. Take them and go now. Stand them in front of the line and explain to those kids the rules for slaves. Make them understand."

We walked quickly back across the border line and were stood facing the line. It was incredibly embarrassing, even after all I'd been through, and I of course got a boner. Greg was trying to hurry but did a pretty good job of providing instruction. Our parents looked sick.

Once on the bus, Greg asked, "Do you really think they have spies here?"

Before I could answer, Ricky did. "Yes," he said. "I'm one, and I know there are others. I want to get my best friend Trent out, and I'm told I can as long as I report back any wrong moves by you. I also want to get my parents out, but I'm afraid it might be too late for that. So, yeah, there are kids here who will report you. And not just former slaves. There are kids who were on the wrong side of the border who either want their parents free or who want to return without being sold into slavery. I'd be willing to bet that at least one kid on this bus besides me is a spy. And that's a pretty good motivator for doing what they want. So Greg, sir, and Master, you'd better make sure you treat us like the slaves we are."

Steve's parents were less than thrilled that their son had brought home a slave, and it took a lot of discussion from Greg and my parents before they accepted that. My new home was smaller than the one we had left and Greg and I had to share a bedroom, but that was fine with me. We searched diligently for any sign of a listening device before talking openly.

"I knew it was you," were the first words he said to me in private. "Maybe not the first time, but certainly by the second. Why else would Trent have made me wear a mask and for you to be ordered not to talk. I'm sorry I made you do that stuff. Trent told me what I had to say to you."

"You were a slave, like me, you had no choice," I said. "No need to apologize. I'm just glad we're together again and that I'm home. But you really do need to treat me like a slave outside of this room." I told him about Luke and Trent and why Ricky had risked everything. "See, it wasn't just to save his own skin, I'm sure the jailer told him what he needed to do if he was to ever get Trent out. He had a lot of money, thousands of dollars. That should have bought a lot more than just the two of us. So I want to remain your slave until Trent comes across the border."

It was a bitter pill, but at least as Greg's slave I wouldn't be restricted from jacking off. It would mean missing the rest of the year at school in my grade as I'd be by my brother's side in his grade, naked. But as bad as I'd had it Trent was getting it worse.

We identified a possible spy right off the bat. A boy from Greg's school came over and asked if Greg would order me to give him a blowjob. "I went to Steve's house, but he said no, so I thought I'd come here and try."

I could see the pain in Greg's eye as he ordered me to suck the kid off. Once he left, I asked what Greg knew of the kid.

"Not much, he was here before I got freed. He says he's from Nutbush, but a kid at school who grew up there said he doesn't 't know anything about it, not even the name of the main street, so it looks like he's lying."

We agreed we needed to warn Steve before it got too late. We also discussed a few other kids who might possibly be spies. And we agreed that anyone who wanted anything from me had to be satisfied just in case.

But that backfired on me. Once word got around that I was good for a blowjob or to be fucked it seemed all the boys wanted one. While they all said that slavery was wrong, they weren't beyond using it to get off. Hardly a day went by that I didn't blow some kid in the rest room at school or have one come home with us for some fun in the bedroom.

Greg asked for nothing until the kid who said he was from Nutbush asked if he could watch while I sucked Greg off. Then he wanted to watch while Greg fucked me. We learned from Steve that the same thing was happening there. We knew then that he had to be a spy.

After the two weeks was up, Steve wanted to quit and his parents also didn't want their son owning a slave. We tried to convince him to stay on, but he just shook his head and said while he enjoyed the occasional blow job and having Ricky do his chores for him, he really didn't want a slave. So, since there was no established process or paperwork, we wrote some up and Greg bought Ricky (203) for fifteen dollars. It got a little more crowded in the room but we were together.

There days later we got a letter from a Major Strand that said, "A boy can only own one slave. Sell 203 to someone else or return him." It didn't say we could free him, and we thought that was probably purposeful. And it proved that there were spies.

Of course, the first offer we got was from the kid we already believed was a spy. He offered twenty dollars but Greg said he wanted fifty.

"Look, I know you're on to me, so here's the deal. You sell 203 to me for twenty and then you hold an auction for 137 with the understanding that whoever buys him will keep him as a slave for no less than six weeks. And I should tell you that 197 is being considered for a sale across the border and could be in jail awaiting payment as early as next week, so you'd better not waste time. And if you tell your parents or the police or anybody that I'm a spy or that I set up these conditions then I'll report back to Major Strand and he'll make new paperwork so that Kevin Daily and Luke Armstrong can become co-owners of 197 and the price to free him will at least double as both owners will have to agree to price and terms."

We were being blackmailed, but getting Travis back was important to the three of us. "And at the end of the six weeks? Greg asked.

"197 will be allowed to cross the border after the payment of five hundred dollars to his current owner and one thousand dollars to Major Strand. But those payments must be made by next week, and whoever makes the payment must agree to keep 197 as a slave until the six weeks are up. I heard that jail was a bit disagreeable for you two, I'm sure it won't be any nicer for 197. So, do we have a deal or not?" he asked.

"Can we discuss it in private?" Greg asked.

"Shit no! Slaves have no say in arrangements like this. This is between you and me."

I'm sure my brother had his heart in the right place when he said they had a deal.

"Then you're coming with me," he said to Ricky. "I can make a hundred dollars a day selling your mouth and ass to kids at school. You have one day left to do the same with 137 before you auction him off. Best of luck." He handed Greg a twenty and left with a very sad looking Ricky in tow.

"Sorry, I hope I did the right thing," Greg said to me as soon as they were gone.

"You did. And at least we'll learn who the next spy is. It'll be the one who buys me. I'll bet your friends were even threatened not to outbid him and that I go cheap."

We talked to my dad, who was sympathetic but didn't commit to spending fifteen hundred dollars to free some kid he didn't know. But Greg would have a week to work on him. He was angry at Greg for agreeing to auction me off as if I was a slave, and Greg had to remind him that I was.

The scary part was that especially the kids but even some adults and government officials were getting used to the idea of child slavery, and nobody spoke against the auction when Greg announced it. And I was right, the kid who bought me was number two on our list of potential spies and he bought me for twelve dollars. His name was John West, and he was only twelve, but he told me that every boy in his class was eager to see what a blowjob felt like and the girls wanted to learn about male anatomy.

John was twelve and still in sixth grade, so he was in his last year at the elementary school. My pubic hair that Ricky had made me shave off was just starting to come back in but John gave me the necessary equipment and made me remove it. "After you earn me enough money we'll go to a place that uses lasers to kill the hair things and then you won't have to shave it off again." Needless to say, this did not sound like a good idea since I was only supposed to be his for six weeks.

Next he told me that not only was I to be kept naked, but that he had a sizable quantity of what he named 'the horny pills.' He warmed me that if I did anything wrong he'd give me one. He said that while I was in his school he decided that at least for my first day he should secure my arms to the collar, "Just for your protection."

I didn't have a clue how having no use of my hands would protect me, but slaves don't question the wisdom or orders of their master's. Especially not if their master had already threatened to use a pill.

At fourteen, I was bigger, taller, and stronger than any kid in John's school, yet what many kids noticed first was my lack of pubic hair. John told them he made me remove it so that I would look "more normal." I wondered how many other kids knew what I knew about John-he was 'normal' himself, as I found out yesterday when he first got me home and ordered me to such him off. Not only didn't he have pubes of his own, he didn't cum either. But it wouldn't do me any good to say anything about what was normal and what wasn't.

The day progressed much as I expected but there were a few surprises. I was bored and tired of kneeling but when I moved around a bit too much the teacher recommended that John come up front and show the other kids how slaves were punished. John proudly brought me up front and had me bend over the teacher's desk before borrowing a belt from another student and belted me until it hurt too much to hold back the tears.

Later in the day a group of kids I guessed were around seven or eight years old had one boy who was misbehaving and as we walked by I heard the teacher say, "Peter, if you don't start behaving you might find yourself as a slave."

Immediately, several boys shouted out asking if they could buy him. She quieted them down and said, "I don't have the authority to make someone a slave officially, but maybe I'll talk with the principal and see if we can have a 'classroom' slave that the whole class can own for the day." Peter, the boy who had been misbehaving, was in tears promising to be good."

So even in this school I could learn things I didn't know, like that kids were getting indoctrinated with the idea that slavery was okay and normal and many of them were jealous of John because he had a slave and they didn't.

One thing that wasn't a surprise was that each bathroom break John made between fifteen and twenty dollars from boys in school who had money and wanted a blowjob. On the playground at recess girls were paying a dollar a minute to be allowed to touch me but to make me cum would cost ten dollars. I was brought to shooting three times, but it was better than not being allowed to cum at all.

John told me that my brother had asked to see me but was refused and that he was going to keep me from getting any information. John had an arrangement with the school so that his class was at the opposite end of the school from Greg's class, so I never saw him even though he was in the same school.

However, his greed got the best of him and once or twice a boy who paid to get a blowjob purposefully gave me some information. The best news was that Trent had been bought and was 'owned' by my brother, which meant that he convinced my dad to pay for it. And sure enough, the next day there was word of a new slave named 197 who was being paraded through the school. It pissed John off at first because he thought it would cut into his income if there was another slave. But apparently Greg wasn't using Trent for that because the same boys had the same money day after day.

It was very difficult to get much even if the boys were willing to talk. First, most of the time John would be right in the room watching. And I couldn't ask any questions as my mouth was always filled with a dick. But some information did get through. The most troubling was a rumor that a boy from the town near of us had been kidnapped and returned to the Free Lands because he was the documented property of a boy down there. The rumor stated that he had never been a slave, he had managed to cross the border on his own before the army had established control and stopped the looting and killing.

About the half way point into my six-week sentence as a slave a new ordinance was passed that former slaves cannot own slaves. John told me this because he was going to auction me off and try to buy 197, who had to be auctioned because my brother could no longer own him.

"Your stupid brother doesn't treat him like a slave anyway so he doesn't deserve him. We're just watching to see if he does anything wrong. A former slave doesn't have to do much wrong to end up on the auction blocks again. Besides, there are several families that still have kids down south and would like to buy a slave to trade for their kids to be returned as free kids."

I must have looked frightened, which I was, because he said, "It's never one-for-one; what I've heard is it takes four or five slaves to exchange for one free kid. So suddenly there is a great demand for slaves up here and that means there's money to be made. The laws are being changed to make it easier to have kids here enter the auctions in order to keep up with the demand. But some people want to restrict the number of slaves in order to make them more valuable. Right now demand far exceeds supply so my dad thinks we can sell you for nearly the cost of buying 197 and then after a few months we can sell him for a profit. But with the new laws making it easier to enslave kids the price structure will change so my dad wants to act now to maximize his profit."

Manipulating supply and demand was the way the privileged and elite worked to make money before the war. It was the lowers who had little or nothing and did all the real work. It was becoming clear to me that there were several people who saw the need for a new class of lowers and that slaves like me were the natural choice.

I was thinking about this when I saw that John had more news for me, something he was saving for shock value. "They also changed the rules that all auctions are for six weeks plus any remaining time for current slaves. This means that if we sell you the clock for you to become free will be further out and the buyer will have to pay more since we're losing three weeks of owning you. But the demand is so great that that we're sure you'll sell for way above the minimum bid price."

Now I was in even greater danger, and not just me. My brother, Trent, Rick, and any other slaves and former slaves were in great danger of being returned to the south. I assumed that Greg and my dad were aware of this and were taking steps to prevent it, but without talking to him I couldn't be sure.

And, if John was correct and telling the truth, I might never be freed. If there was as little as one day left in my contract and I was sold it would be at least six weeks before I would be freed. If demand was high and supply low selling me for profit would be the driving force and the only thing that would limit the desire to buy me was the time remaining in my contract. I couldn't believe how quickly the concept of slavery was becoming a way of life here in the north.

My new owner was Casey Livingston, a boy my age that I knew from school before the war. His dad was a few million ahead of my dad (standing was always reflected by how much money one had) and now he owned me. Knowing him didn't make it better – there were two thrills for owning a slave: sexual gratification and someone to do work or chores, and Casey was into both. And he owned me for nine weeks – the three I still had with John and the six for which his father bought me.

Casey had just entered his freshman year at high school, as I would have if I were free. This meant that there were many kids who knew me before the war. I hoped that some would be sympatric to my situation, but I was sure it would bring more laughter than sympathy. Of course, I was brought to school naked and like John, Casey knew how to use me to make a few dollars. But I wasn't the only slave in school, in fact there were several of us, so there was competition for those dollars. But what he lost in value he made up for in quantity since there were far more students with money in high school than there were in elementary school.

While kneeling next to him in his civics class I learned something that made my stomach turn even more. There was now a new class of slave; those slaves who had been sold several times were now considered 'incorrigible slaves' because the reasoning was that the only reason they were sold several times was because they didn't behave or perform properly. Those incorrigible slaves could be bought by the state and then the state could assign them to families who wanted a slave but couldn't afford one, and come with some funding support from the state. Of course, the rule ignored the fact that slaves were repeatedly being sold for profit, not because they were incorrigible. But this meant that I was in even more danger because the one single purpose for acquiring an incorrigible slave was to trade them for kids still in the south whose parents were in the north.

It was always that way-where there was a need the government stepped in and identified a problem that didn't really exist and use it to meet the needs of people who voted to keep the elected government officials in power. I was now one step closer to be returned to the south.

Casey was harsher with me than the previous owners. Whether it was because he enjoyed punishing me or because it was more accepted, or if he wanted to justify my acquisition by the government (which would pay the owners for the lost value of an incorrigible slave) I didn't know, but being paddled was becoming more frequent. He especially enjoyed doing it in school. And nobody ever stood to defend me, the concept of slavery as property was becoming common, especially among the kids.

Since there were now several of us in school, another game they frequently played was to get us together and make us jack off. The last one to shoot was then fucked by all the other owners. I suffered this once and after being fucked by five boys with an audience of twenty others I was also paddled by Casey.

One of the kids that lost this challenge three times was a year younger and physically no bigger than my brother who was still twelve. I heard his owner laughing that he made him jack off three times before the competition just to make him lose. That didn't stop any of the older and bigger boys from fucking him each time though.

It was about two weeks after I had been sold to Casey's father that I got word that my brother Greg had been auctioned off by order of the government because he was falling behind in school and for speaking hearsay. My source told me he had written a paper in school criticizing the government increased attention to the use of slavery and that was why he was sold. His buyer? John West, my former owner.

Other than an occasional rumor or comment I was cut off from any word about Trent or Ricky and I hoped they were doing okay, but the changes were coming fast and anyone who had been a slave was in much greater danger of becoming one again than those who had always been free. However, statutes were being revised to allow slavery for some offensives committed by juveniles. But like always, those whose parents were less well off than others were at a much greater risk of being auctioned off. At least in the south it was a system that was dedicated to ensuring food, medical care, and a safe living environment for the needy kids and those orphaned by the war. In truth, I had been better off being owned by Ricky than I would have been if I had to find or steal food just to survive.

The weeks passed slowly as I spent the days sucking off boys I used to hang around with and the evenings doing chores for Casey before getting fucked by him. I was paddled frequently by Casey, sometimes just for not making one of his friends cum quick enough. There hadn't been any more talk about me being sold and I hadn't heard a single word of Greg's fate other than he was now an incorrigible slave.

Then one day Casey got called to the principal's office and brought me with him. His dad was there waiting for him and greeted him by saying, "It took long enough, but we've finally convinced them he's incorrigible and got a fantastic price for the rest of his time."

"Can we buy another?" Casey asked.

"Probably, but it's getting harder to make money on them. And their starting to get suspicious about the number of slaves being declared incorrigible, so you probably will be stuck with one if we do. So we'll look for a younger one for you to take care of. But right now we have to get him down to the office and sign the papers. He's being shipped south tonight."

My heart almost stopped. I wished it had. After all the money spent to bring me north and everything I'd been through, going back felt like the worse that could ever happen. Of course, I was soon to find out that worse was yet to come, but right then I was as low as I thought I could ever be.

Once the paperwork had been signed I was a ward of the State and was taken immediately to a single room – more like a closet. Three by three with three cement walls and an opening. There was a single light bulb behind me that was very hot on my back. My hands were bound to my collar and something slipped over my head and positioned around my neck.

"Take a step forward," I was ordered. As soon as I tried to move the device around my neck tightened and began chocking me. "Step back," was the next command. The device continued to chock me for a ten seconds or so and then slowly loosened. "If you try to move from that position you now know what will happen."

The guard stepped away from the room and left me standing there. My back was getting painful from the heat given off by the light bulb and as I stood there I started to imagine that the skin was burning and blistering and became unable to stand there. But of course as soon as I tried to move forward the thing around my neck tightened and I had to step back. It was torture, plain and simple, and it was designed to be so. So much for being in the land of money and enlightenment. Maybe I would be better off in the south.

I don't know how long I stood there but my legs were hurting and starting to cramp and I was getting very scared until the guard came back and release me from the choker device. "This way. Don't say a word. Don't look around. Just walk."

He directed me down several hallways until I could smell the fumes from a diesel engine. There was a door straight ahead of me.

"Open the door and pass through and go down the steps. The guards there will tell you want to do."

I went out and saw a bus with three kids standing in line next to it. The first one I didn't know, but I did know the other two. The second one in line was Trent Holms and the last one was my brother Greg. None of them turned their heads or moved as I came down the steps and I took that as a cue. I moved to the back and got into line behind Greg. I wanted with all my heart to touch him, hug him, or at least talk to him, but I didn't dare. And as soon as I was in line a guard gave me the instructions I expected. "Stand at attention; look straight ahead; and don't talk except to answer questions."

A few minutes later the door at the top of the stairs opened again and I dared to peek. It was Ricky Woodberry. After him, two more boys joined the line but I thought I had used up all the luck I had seeing Ricky and not getting caught so I didn't try to see them.

A guard came down the row and put something in the mouth of each of us and told us to swallow it. I recognized the taste immediately as the 'horny' pills that Ricky had been so fond of giving to me when he owned me. We stood there a few minutes longer until I began to feel the first effects from the pill.

"276, Step forward and get on the bus," a guard ordered and the first boy in line moved around the front of the bus. A few second later 197 was called, then 118, then me, then 203. I didn't hear the numbers of the last two boys.

The others were standing facing the back of the bus and I got my first good look at the choker device. I was positioned so that I was no more than an inch behind my brother and the choker put around my neck. I could feel my dick as it rose up into Greg's ass and I knew that he had to be doing the same to Trent. I felt Ricky's dick poking my ass as soon as they stood him in place. It wasn't the first time his dick had been there.

The poor boy in the front had the same problem with being horny as we did, but he had no possibility of relief whereas the rest of us all knew that we were going to do all we could to fuck the boy in front of us while the boy behind us was doing the same. Of course the last boy had nobody fucking him.

The bus was put into gear and started up and all of us struggled to remain upright and in position to release the choke hold while at the same time fighting (in my case) the desire to actually fuck the boy in front of them. But no matter what I thought of it, the gap between his cheeks was too much to resist and I ended up driving into him and squirting my cum in or on him, as the Ricky did in my crack.

I think I shot six times on the bus ride before I was spent, but even then I was still hard and still horny and continued to try to get relief from my condition from by brother's ass.

We stopped at the border where paperwork was reviewed and where we were turned around to face the front of the bus, which now meant it would be Greg's dick in my ass. Even if he were dry as I was I knew he was going to be fucking me for the rest of the ride. At least the boy now in the back was finally going to get some relief at the expense of Trent.

The ride to the jail was not as long as the ride to the border and soon we were taken to our individual cells. I could see Trent in one near mine and one of the boys I didn't know in another, but I had no idea where Greg or Ricky ended up.

It wasn't long before the jailer showed up, and he had Luke Armstrong and Kevin Daily with him. They had been bigger than me the last time I saw them and they looked like they had grown even more since then.

"These two are scouting around for possible prospective slave purchases," the jailer said. "If you beg me to fuck you I might not leave the doors to 118 and 197 unlocked"

He was offering me a chance to not have my brother or Trent at the mercy of the bullies, if he was honest. All I had to do was beg him, an adult, to fuck me. I did, but he just laughed.

"There's too much tighter assholes here for me to want yours. But you can entertain these two until the auction tomorrow." He ordered me into the 'fucking' position and cuffed my hands to the bars and then let Luke and Kevin in.

"We've split a horny pill," Luke said to me as he bent over me. "So we should be good to go at you all night." In fact, they were spent after three fucks, but they hadn't used any lube and my ass was on fire by the time they left with me still in the fucking position.

I was stiff and very sore when the jailer finally came with food. He moved me to the 'suck' position and I had to pay the price for my meal by sucking his huge dick. But at last I was free to move around within my cell and eat something. Trent hadn't been molested during the night but I heard him crying in his cell. He was also made to give the jailer a blowjob before he was freed to eat. I guess two was all the man was good for because the other boy I could see was just jacked off by the jailer's rough hands.

Shortly after we ate he came back and took Trent and the other boy out of the cells, but not me. It was at least an hour before he came for me, and when I was taken to the auction block I was the only one there. There were no crowds of people or kids hoping to own me, instead just three big strong looking men. The first felt my arms and legs and grunted. "He's too scrawny. I told you, get me some boys who haven't been a slave for years. Nobody exercises them."

The second man just looked at me and shook his head and walked away. But the third man said, "Three dollars a day."

"Come on, he's worth twenty and you know it," the jailer said.

"I've got boys who are worth twenty and he isn't. I'll give you four dollars a day but if you counter I'm leaving."

That was it. For whatever it meant, I'd been sold to a man for four dollars a day. I thought about how bad it had been being owned by boys and now this and I was scared. But he unhooked my leash and directed me to the back of a dusty truck and hooked me to an eyebolt. He got in and started up the engine and drove off with me choking on the dust that swirled around inside the bed of the pickup truck.

I'd assumed I'd been bought for sex by a pedophile or worse, but was taken to a hot, noisy, and dusty pit where I was released. I was given a pair of work gloves, a pick, and a wheelbarrow. He also provided simple instructions: For every 500 pounds [225 kg] of rock brought out you get a meal or water.

"Obey the guards at all times. Unless the guards approve it you are not here to have fun with your neighbors. Any sex between slaves will be severely punished." That instruction at least sounded good compared to what I'd had before until I entered the mine. "The entrance is over there, just past that guard."

The guard looked to be about twelve, no more than that. He stopped me. "The price to enter is a blowjob," he said and exposed his dick to me.

"But the man said not to…"

He punched me. He wasn't strong enough to punch me hard enough to hurt me, but I still had to resist the impulse to punch him back. "He also told you to obey the guards at all times. I'm fining you twenty-five pounds [10 kg]. Now suck me!"

In the twelve weeks that I'd been a slave I'd sucked probably a hundred boys, so this one was no different. I sucked him and swallowed the small amount of cum he deposited in my mouth. "What's your number," he asked. I told him and he wrote it down. "Now you can enter," he said as he put his dick away.

There was a line of kids moving wheelbarrows out of holes in the side of the pit and dumping them in front of a machine that was feed by a bulldozer and crushed the rock. There were other kids on the other end hauling the crushed rock away. Near the point where kids with full wheelbarrows came out was another guard who was also just a kid. He smiled at me as I passed. "Into that hole there," he said. "And if you need to rest come and see me and I'll fuck you while you rest up."

I entered the hole. There were lines of kids using picks to break up the rock and then collecting pieces and putting them into their barrows. Other boys had full barrows and they moved along one side of the hole while those returning with empty barrows walked along the other side. They were all sweaty and covered in dust. I started to move into an empty spot was pushed to the ground by a boy who might have been my age.

"That's Arthur's place. Newbies go to the end of the hole." I found it strange to hear a slave refer to another slave by his name but let it pass.

The further down the line I went the thicker the dust. I made it to the end of the line and realized I had a longer walk to the dump area than anyone else. I started to chip away at the rock to break it free. With every hit, shards flew off, some hitting me and drawing a small amount of blood if they hit edge-on. The noise and dust was overpowering.

It took a long time before the barrow was full but when I went to lift it I could tell that it was going to be too heavy so I had to dump a small amount out. I started to make my way down the line. As I passed, several kids turned around and took a rock or two out of my barrow and put them in their own barrow. By the time I got to the exit point I only had half a load.

I followed the boys until we reached a scale. One at a time the boys would move the barrow over the scale and give their number and the man would state a weight and wright it down. The weights I heard ranged between 175 and 225 pounds [80-100 kg]. When it was my turn I told him I was 137 and he found it wasn't in his book yet. "I just came in today," I volunteered, hoping I wouldn't be punished for speaking.

"Any fines?" he asked.

"Yes, 25 pounds [10 kg]."

"To who?" he asked. He looked at me as if I was stupid.

"Uhh, the guard up there," I pointed.

"But you don't know which one," the guard said. I shook my head no. "Then leave your barrow here and go and find out."

When I came back my barrow was empty. "His name is Jamie Card."

"Okay, the first 25 pounds [10 kg] you pick belong to him."

"But how much did my barrow weigh?"

"Your barrow is empty. The scale is set for the weight of an empty barrow. You need to get some rock first."

"But it was half full when I left it here!" I spoke perhaps a little too strong.

"For calling me a thief, I'm fining you 25 pounds [10 kg]. Now go and get some rock."

I started to turn back but then remembered. "What's your name?"

"Walter Doraty," he said. "You're slow, but at least you're learning."

I went back to my spot at the end of the hole planning to gather up all the loose rock I'd already knocked out only to find the spot clean. I wanted to cry. I was fourteen years old and all I wanted to do was sit down and cry.

"Don't leave rock out," the boy next to me said. "Only chip what you can haul. And if you let people take your rock then you'll starve or they'll give you to us."

"What do you mean give me to you? And what can I do to stop them from taking the rocks from my barrow?"

"We don't get any sex here. Jacking off is forbidden and the punishment is severe. But kids who need punishment or aren't hauling enough rock to live get sold to anyone who is willing to give up a portion of their rock to do whatever they want with you. And as far as those who take your rocks, take them back. Stand up for yourself unless they're bigger and stronger than you. Fighting is prohibited, so most will back down, but some won't. The guards all got their jobs because they're queers, so you can always earn protection by giving them what they want. But don't do it too often because they can make you do stuff even if you don't offer. If you offer too often they'll keep coming back for more."

"Give me the rock you took from here," I said.

"I didn't take any rock from your spot. And if you accuse me of stealing you'd better have thick skin because sometimes stuff happens and kids fall and get hurt. And if you're hurt or sick and can't haul rock then all your good for is amusement from those who do work." The kid turned back to his spot and went back to chipping out rocks.

I went back to work. It was frustratingly hard but I had to earn my food and water. I was sure I wasn't going to survive this. As I worked, I saw the kid next to me move off. He left a pile of rock a little smaller than what I had left. I took them and put them in my barrel and picked my own until I had a load I could carry.

As I made my way down the line when kids tried to take rocks from my barrow I yelled at them to stop. Most did and of those who didn't I only challenged two and they did back off. The other three were clearly bigger and stronger than me and I let them steal.

My load was 140 pounds [65 kg]. "You're going to have to work a lot harder than that if you want to survive," he said to me. "After the deduction for your fines, you have 90 pounds [40 kg]. Go and dump it and get back to work."

I was already tired and sore and very thirsty. Survival was looking more and more unlikely. My next load was 145 pounds [65 kg]. I hadn't even earned enough for a meal or water yet. The next load was 150 pounds [70 kg], but I didn't think I had the strength to even chisel out another load let alone haul it. And I needed 115 pounds [50 kg] more just to get water. I saw the kid who worked next to me look at me and go and talk to a guard.

I struggled just to get back to my spot. I was choking on the dust and my arms hurt from trying to swing the pick. All I was getting out was pebbles and I was too tired to even bend over and pick them up. Then I heard a whistle blow and saw all the kids walking out, leaving their barrows and picks behind. I followed, using the last of my strength to walk.

The other kids gathered around three of the guards who were standing on a raised platform. Once we were all there one of the guards shouted out for 268, 112, and 137 to come up to the stage. I followed the other two boys and saw they were both younger than me by about a year and looked just as exhausted as I did.

"I'll give you a credit of thirty pounds [15 kg] if you ask me to fuck you right here in front of all of your friends," one guard said to me. I heard the guard on the left of me offer forty pounds [20 kg] for the same thing to his boy.

"I want forty," I said and knew from the sounds of the boys watching that I had made a mistake.

"Then I'll fuck you for free," he said to me. "You must be from the north to think you can negotiate with me. Bend over."

I bent over and felt his four-inch [10 cm] dick push between my cheeks. It barely penetrated my anus, but he seemed happy to be humping me. I felt him cum and he withdrew.

"Now, for this almost cherry-assed boy, I'll offer a blowjob for 5 pounds [2 kg] or a fuck for 15 [7 kg]. Lineup over here."

I heard a similar but better offer being made for the other two boys, but none the less a line formed next to the guard that had me. By the time the line was done I'd given twelve blowjobs and been fucked six times. One of the fucks was a kid who looked to be in his late teens, and he drove into me hard and long before he shot, but after all I'd been through the pain seemed marginal.

But I now had a credit of 535 pounds [250 kg] and got food and water along with everybody else.

After we ate the bread and cheese they had and drank the water they gave us it was back to work. Although the rest, food, and water helped, it wasn't enough to carry me through to the next round. I was unable to work any further with still only 410 pounds [185 kg] of credit including the 35 left over from before.

"You've got to work no matter how tired you are," the kid next to me said. "They may not sell you out to us again today, it's rare for them to sell a boy twice in one day."

"But I've never done anything like this before and last night I was in jail where I got no rest at all."

"Look, I hear you, but you have to be profitable to them or you'll end up back in that jail. I hear there are worse places than here. How much were you sold for?"

"Four dollars a day."

"That's about 200 pound [90 kg] of rock. You need to do 1500 [700 kg] a day for food and water and another 200 [90 kg] to pay for yourself. If you don't, they can send you back. Only before that happens they call us all together and watch while each of the guards fuck you and then they order each of us to fuck you. They can make you suck all of us off. Then you get sent back. And your worth goes way down, so it is harder to find a buyer. Things happen to boys who can't be sold. So I'll help you a little today, but you can't quit and you can't just lay there or you're on your own."

I tried to imagine being fucked by the thirty or more guards and workers I saw here and didn't like the thought.

The kid next to me put a rock that probably weighed two pounds into my barrow. I found just enough strength to knock some small chips our and when the barrow was a quarter full I took it to the scales. It weighed 35 pounds [16 kg]. I still needed 65 [30 kg] more. Somehow, I don't know how, I managed two more loads. When the whistle blew I was at 505 pounds [230 kg].

It was the last meal of the day. The boys who had already been here had worked four hours before I arrived. This meal was more filling and there was a lot more water. Then we passed through a waterfall of water to wash some of the dust off before going to a dorm.

"Don't get caught beating off," a boy whispered to me. Everyone used the toilet and then went to bed. That night twice guards, kids really, pulled me out of bed to either suck them or let them fuck me. The next morning found me still tired but had to go to work with the others. For the next week I was sold to other laborers every day in order to get my food and water at lunch and was used by the kid guards at night, but I was gradually getting stronger. By the second week I started having a small surplus.

On the eighth day I moved up one notch and had a new boy next to me. He was thin and had no noticeably muscle and I was immediately worried about him. At lunch I had enough surplus to fuck him. Not that I wanted to, but because I knew he needed the pounds from my fund more than I did. But by the third day I had to watch the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen. He didn't get out of the bunk that morning, despite all the warnings everyone gave him.

At lunch we had to watch while sixteen kid guards plus six adults fucked him on the stage. And then we were called by number, one at a time, to fuck him too. One kid either couldn't or wouldn't and was fined 200 pounds [90 kg]. I didn't think I could get hard after watching every other worker here fuck the poor kid, but I knew I wouldn't survive if I couldn't, so somehow I managed and fucked him as well. I felt sick as he just lay there crying. He didn't resist at all, and when I was done I saw some blood on my dick.

He was hauled away and put in the back of a pickup truck. None of us talked during lunch or even after we returned to work. This place was a hell hole, but I had no idea how to get out of it.

That night before bed I asked the kid next to me how you get out of this place. He said if the owner gets a better deal than he'll sell you. Otherwise, the only way out was the way the kid left today.

"There aren't any kids here much older than we are," I said. "So they must get sold eventually."

"Wrong. The food isn't healthy enough nor do we get enough of it. In a few weeks you'll reach your peak and then the decline sets in. Few kids last more than six months. And when they don't make a profit and can't be sold, they go out on the stage."

It sounded like a death sentence to me. And I was still only fourteen years old.

Two weeks later a sedan car pulled up to the quarry. It looked like it had been shiny before the long drive down the dusty roads. Two men with briefcases got out and went into the office area. When the whistle sounded for lunch they made us wait before feeding us until the men were brought out onto the stage. One of them held up a poster board that had two pictures on it.

"Is there any chance that any of you know what these pictures are?" one of them asked.

"It's a model 221 water purification system," I said. All the other kids looked at me.

"And how would you know that?" the man asked.

"My dad designed it and I was around for the test of the first models."

The two men in suits looked at each other. One of them looked at the manager of the quarry and said, "How much?"

"Five hundred dollars, plus a thousand for cross-country travel and bribes."

"That's a lot," one of the men said. He looked at me and said, "Could you run one of these? Do maintenance on it, repair it?"

I thought quickly and took a chance. "Not alone. I'd need a couple of helpers, people who know what they are doing. I have a team that I could promise you we could do all you say." It wasn't true, while I knew a lot about it I didn't know enough to fix it or do maintenance. But maybe I could get out of here.

"How many, and where are they?" the man asked.

"Well, there's 87, I've been telling him about it since I've been here." 87 was the kid in line next to me, the one who helped me that first week. "Then there's my brother. He knows almost as much as me. He's 118, but I don't know where he is. Others that could help would be 197 and 203, but again, I don't know where they are."

"So five of you. I'm afraid that's too much money. We'll have to think about it." They thanked the manager and started for the steps, but the manager must have seen big profit walking away.

"You know, 87's production has been down lately, and 137 never really did amount to much. How about five hundred for the two of them, plus twelve hundred for paperwork."

"How about two hundred dollars each plus a thousand," the man said. The quarry manager thought for a second and said, "Deal. And if you have the money now they can leave today." What a man, he knew if we left now he wouldn't need to feed us, saving him a few dollars extra.

The man had the money and we were out of the quarry within minutes. But when we got to the car the men said looked at us. "Uh, don't you have somewhere to wash or clothes to wear or something to remove the stink at least?"

"You're not from the Free Lands, are you," 87 said. "Slaves don't often get clothing and we haven't seen a shower since we were assigned here. I'll be glad to walk outside the car if that's what you need, but no, what you see is what you bought."

"It's twenty miles back to the nearest town," the man who had paid for us said. "That's too far to walk. And if we leave the widows open the car will fill with dust." I could see him thinking.

"We'll fit in the trunk," I said. "Both of us. Put us there, we'll be fine."

He looked doubtful, especially after we were squeezed in nut-to-butt, but he didn't have a better plan so he closed the lid and a few minutes we were on our way.

"No matter what happens, I owe you my life," 87 said. It was his nuts and dick that were in my butt and I could feel him getting hard.

"I'll settle for knowing your real name," I said. "Mine is Gerry. Gerald Boswell."

"I'm Don Grant. And thank you. But I don't know a thing about that machine. Are you sure…"

I cut him off. "I don't know half what I pretended to know, but I had already guessed they weren't from here and they weren't from up north. So once they get us out of the Free Land we'll learn, or we'll be sold back. But between now and then just act like I've been showing you blueprints of it for a year now. And I'm pretty sure you saved my life that first day in the hole, so I think we're even."

He was silent for a while and then over the sound of the car I heard him sniffle.

"Are you crying?"

"I can't help it. I'm sorry. You're saving my life and all I'm thinking about is how good my dick feels rubbing against your butt every time the car hits a bump. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

"Go ahead and get off, you won't be the first," I said. "But if we end up in the trunk again, I get the back of the spoon next time." He laughed, the first laughter I'd heard since I entered the quarry.

The car stopped and the trunk opened. "We're at our motel. Why don't you boys go take a shower while we go and find you some clothes for you. Do you know what size you wear?"

"Uh sir, first off, we're slaves. I guess that technically you own us now. Second, we're chipped and if someone checks and sees slaves dressed riding in a nice car, well there'll be trouble."

"And you don't ever leave slaves alone," Don added. "You need to call us by our numbers. I'm 87 and he's 137."

"But, we can't own slaves, it is strictly prohibited in our country."

"Fine, we want nothing more than to get to your country," I said. "As fast as possible. So we'll ride in the trunk and you drive the speed limit and once we're in your country we'll tell you our real names. Until then, follow the rules or we'll be back at that quarry or somewhere even worse."

He looked very unsure, but he and the other man went into the motel room and came out a few seconds later with suitcases. "I'll guess we'll have to put these in the back seat," one of them said.

Don and I got out and switched places. I could feel the wet sticky spot in my ass and I fully intended to leave him feeling the same way before we reached wherever we were going.

Once we were under way again, Don asked, "If your father designed them, why didn't they hire him?"

"I don't know. I thought of that too and almost asked, but then I figured if this was going to get me and my brother out and maybe a few friends too I wasn't going to risk it by asking questions. Now leave me alone, I'm trying to concentrate here."

"You must be really slow if you need to concentrate that much just to get a load off," Don said. But he laughed as he said it.

We both fell asleep and didn't wake up until after the car was stopped. I heard someone say, "Get out of the car and open the trunk."

"Uh, there's nothing to see in the trunk," one of the men said.

"We're at the border," I said. "And if he doesn't open the trunk they'll shoot them." We lay there in fear until the trunk lid popped open. A uniformed guard with a rifle looked at us and said, "Get out!"

"So, you're trying to sneak slaves out of the country," the officer said. "That's a capital offense."

"No, not sneak, I bought them. It's in the paperwork you have there."

"But slavery is not permitted in New Free Land. You cannot take them there. They are slaves, not freed people."

"Will this be enough to free them?" the man asked. I saw several thousand dollar bills exchange hands.

"Yes, I do believe it will. Get in your car and leave before I see something wrong."

The lid closed and the a few minutes later the car accelerated. We were stopped again a few miles later, but they didn't get out of the car and didn't open the trunk. Then we pulled ahead and they drove, faster than they had before.

"How come you're crying," Don asked me. I hadn't thought he could hear me.

"Because I got you and me out, but my brother and some other friends are still being held there. I left him behind. And that hurts more than if I'd gotten him out but not myself."

The next trip only lasted about thirty minutes or so before we stopped again. When the trunk lid popped open we were on a street with a tree in every yard and bright green grass. Several kids came running over as we got out.

"Look, they're naked!" a girl yelled. There were giggles and laughter until the men told the kids to go and play. An adult female came out and looked at Don and me and then at the men. "You'd better not have what I think you have," she said. "If you bought slaves and brought them here you'll be arrested."

"Mrs. Parker please, I didn't bring them here as slaves. I plan to go downtown and free them just as quick as I can. But as you can see, first they need a long hot bath and then clothes. I'm sure they feel awkward standing out here naked, so let's not prolong this."

The truth was, I'd been naked for so long around so many people that I really didn't mind.

"What do you intend to do with them if you are able to get them free status," the woman asked.

"They know how to operate the water purification system. With their help soon we'll be able to drink the water instead of just using it to water the lawn. Just think, no more boiling water."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what they told you. They'd say anything to get out of being slaves. But they were slaves for a reason. They were members of the elite. And we'd have drinkable water if it wasn't for them."

"Pardon me," I said. "But I was not a member of the elite, but rather the privileged class. And my father designed and build the plant, so I do know a lot about it."

"And where is your father now?" she asked. "Why doesn't he come and run it for us."

"Maybe because he's dead," I said. "People like you came and killed those from the wealthy classes until the army stopped them." I knew it wasn't true, but she didn't and I saw the pity in her eyes. Not sorrow, not apologetic, but pity. And I hated it.

"Well, at least get them off the street. The kids around here are wild enough without seeing boys standing around naked in front of them without even a shred of humility or embarrassment." She turned and walked away.

"Don't worry boys, she's in the minority. Getting you free status will be quick and easy. Now, if you'll come this way, I think I have a very big surprise for my wife."

"Please sir, my brother, I thought…"

"Yes, I know. But from what you said at the motel I thought it was best to get you out first while I had you. Mr. Dobbs and I will do what we can to get him and the other numbers you mentioned. And two things: first, I'm Mr. Benson, not sir and especially not master. And second, don't lie to me. I know where your father is. Only he would not come. It was only by hiring a spy that I even learned that both of his sons were still in Freeland and that he wasn't having any luck getting them back. I think that once we get your brother here it will be easier to talk him into coming." We had reached the house and he opened the door. As we walked in, a woman I guessed was Mrs. Benson took one look at Don and me and passed out.

While Mr. Benson helped his wife up and explained why he had just brought two very dirty and naked adolescents into her house, we met their kids. The boy was Tony and said he was nine, and he had a million questions about nakedness, penis' pubic hair, and dirt. The girl, Lily, didn't give her age but looked twelve or thirteen, and she didn't have any questions. She just stared at Don and I, only not our faces. Once her mother saw her and where she was looking she and Tony were sent off and we were directed to the bathroom.

"Use as much water as you need, but do not drink any of it or you'll be very sick," she told us. Tony followed us in and had a million more questions while Don and I took turns in the shower.

"We should clean that," Don said as he looked at the brown stain on the bottom of the tub when we were done. I agreed and together we were bent over cleaning it when Mrs. Benson came back in and ordered us to stop being slaves.

I couldn't resist. "Yes, of course. We are good slaves and we do whatever we're ordered to do, so we'll stop." Don started laughing, Tony joined in even though I don't think he understood, and finally even Mrs. Benson.

"Roger guessed at your sizes and went out to buy clothes," she said as she took over cleaning the tub. "Until he gets back, why don't you wrap yourselves in sheets or blankets or something that covers your, your…"

"Nakedness," Don said. "Tony has been very helpful and he'll show us where to find said sheets."

That evening Don and I were dressed in the clothing that had been bought for us. I'd been naked for so long that it felt uncomfortable on me. He also used a very sharp knife to cut the collars off of both of us.

"I apologize," Mrs. Benson said as we sat down for dinner with her family. "For my reaction when you walked through the door."

"No need, we would have frightened anyone I'm sure," Don said.

"But still, I should have been, umm, less obvious about it."

"Did you have to be naked all the time when you were slaves?" Tony asked.

"We did, yes."

"Even in front of girls?"

"Tony, that's enough," Mr. Benson said. "Slavery is a terrible thing and I saw the worst of it over there. I'll get them freed tomorrow, but for right now let them be."

"You mean they're still slaves?" Tony asked. "Do they have to do what I tell them?"

"Absolutely not young man. And unless you want to find out what it's like to be a slave you'd better do as your father told you."

We could see that our presence interrupted the normal family dynamic and felt bad about it. The rest of the meal was finished with almost no conversation. When Don and I offered to help clean up Mrs. Benson acted like we'd insulted her.

"You are guests here, not slaves," she said. "Stop trying to do my work because you feel you have to."

Don said it better than I could have. "Not because we feel we have to, but because we want to. Your family took us in from a horrible, terrible place. We are guests, but that doesn't mean we can't contribute and help in any small way."

"Again, I'm sorry, I didn't think of it that way. If you really want to help, Tony needs a bath and then get ready for bed. He likes a story before he goes to sleep. If you promise extreme discretion of topics and answers, you can let him ask you questions and try to get him to understand why slavery is so wrong."

"It will be our pleasure, and we will not discuss anything that a nine-year-old shouldn't hear or repeat." My response actually got a smile from Mrs. Benson.

After Tony's bath we sat in his room as he got into bed. Lily came and asked if she could come in too and we left it up to Tony-after all, it was his room and his sister. He said yes.

Tony had millions of questions, only a few of which we would answer. Eventually he wore out and fell asleep. "I guess we need to find out where we're sleeping," I said, but Lily asked a question first.

"Were you forced to have sex with boys?"

"I don't think this is something we should be discussing."

"Please tell me. We hear nothing about the people who live just thirty miles away across the border. I want to know what they go through. I know you promised my mom not to discuss stuff like this with Tony, but I'm not a little kid like he is." I asked her how old she was and she said, "Old enough." But after a second or two she said, "Thirteen."

"Okay, yes, we were forced to have sex with boys. Is this really want you want to hear about? It isn't pleasant or easy to dismiss once you know about it," I said truthfully.

"What's it like? I mean, how do boys do it?"

"I guess you probably already have heard of oral and anal sex," Don said. She nodded. "Well then, I think you can probably figure it out from there. Like Gerry said, it isn't pleasant or fun when you're forced to do it."

"Are there any girl slaves?"

"I saw one in the school my first master took me to. She had been my next door neighbor before the war. Like me, was completely naked. I was forced to touch her. Down there. To feel her and, and stuff. She cried the whole time. There was a dozen or more boys watching. But she was the only girl slave I saw."

"I saw my next door neighbor after she was captured," Don said. "They had places for girls where men could go and have sex with them. At least for teenagers. I don't know what happened to the younger girls who were caught."

Lily closed her eyes for a moment before getting up and telling us goodnight. "I think you'll be on air mattresses in the family room," she said. "Unless my dad thought about pajamas, you'd better sleep in your clothes. I enjoyed seeing you, you know, in a way I shouldn't have enjoyed. Kind of like what you did to that girl. And now I feel bad about it. So you should stay dressed so I don't feel like that again."

"We will," I said. "To be honest, as I told Tony, we got used to being naked. Many, many girls saw us. But there must have been rules about not mixing boy and girl slaves and masters because I never saw it except that one time."

We went downstairs and found the air mattresses as Lily predicted. It felt strange trying to sleep on a bed with clothing on, but I was so worn out from the quarry that it didn't take long before I was out.

The next morning, I woke up with the sun in my face and Tony leaning over me. "Yeah mom, they're awake," he yelled. I heard Don groan. I don't think he was quite as awake as I was when Tony shouted right next to him.

"Mr. Benson has already left to go get you free status," Mrs. Benson said. "And I'll bet you haven't had a nutritious and filling breakfast in a while, so sit down, it's almost ready."

"Can you guys play with me today?" Tony asked.

"Well, we should probably find that purifier and see if we can get it running," I said. "That's why your dad bought…" I froze and saw the expression on Tony's face.

"My dad bought you? How can somebody buy a person?"

"Not now Tony," Mrs. Benson said, taking me off the hook. "I'll explain it to you later."

"Anyway, that sounds like work and kids don't work. 'Your job is to go to school and learn and play and have fun.' That's what my mom always tells me. So since there's no school today let's have fun."

"What do you have in mind?" Don asked.

"We could play catch, or tag, or if it's hot enough we can run through the sprinkler. We run water all the time hoping it will clean up enough to drink but it never does."

"Well, we don't have bathing suits, so maybe one of the other games," I said.

"You were naked yesterday. You don't need suits. We can all go naked."

I saw his mother start to say something and I beat her to it. "What if one of your friends comes over and finds you naked. Or a girl who lives around here. You sure you want to go naked?"

I saw him blush from ear to ear. "Yeah, maybe not naked. Not for me. But you guys still could."

"Remember how your mom reacted when we walked in the house naked?" Don asked. "You don't want that to happen again, do you?"

"No, I guess not. Maybe we should just play catch," Tony said. I saw his mother mouth the words, "Thank you," at us and smiled.

We played various games with Tony throughout the morning, and even Lily joined in at one point. I was getting nervous when Mr. Benson was gone so long. When he got back he had good news and bad news.

"The good news is that Free Land will document both of you as a free person once your chip is removed. The bad news is that they insist it be removed by them. Since you were first enslaved by them my country won't issue you citizenship papers as long as you are considered a slave. And even the Northland consider you a slave."

"If you try and take us back across the border they might declare us runaways," Don said. "They'd arrest you and god knows what they'd do to us. I'm not sure I want to risk that."

"You can't stay here in any case. The government has an agreement to return all slaves to their legal owners and I can't be a legal owner. Since I bought you, I could send you back to the Northland but they have now endorsed slavery as a constitutional process. They would either assign you a new master or send you back to the Free Land. Besides, the only way to get there is to go through the Free Land, so we'd have to cross their border twice."

"My parents are in the Northland. He could become my master."

"The Northland does not allow anyone over the age of 16 to be a master. It's actually designed to protect child slaves. And word is, your father supported the thoughts of your brother who wrote a paper against slavery and now your parents are being closely watched for other subversive activities."

"I think Don is right, you bringing us back puts you at risk. And I don't believe they have any intention of freeing us. However, by brother and friends are still there. I'd rather be with them if that could be arranged."

"That may happen anyway," Mr. Benson said. "My country has notified a representative of Free Land of your status and location. They are sending someone who will be here tomorrow. I don't know what will happen when he arrives, but I don't think it will be good. We have until then to come up with a solution."

That was horrible news. Don and I had a pretty good idea of what would happen. We both pictured us standing on a bus heading back to a labor camp somewhere where we would never be heard from again.

We tried to think up options but we weren't getting any closer to a plan when a car pulled up and parked. "Oh, good, that's Mr. Dobbs," Mr. Benson said. "Maybe he has something worked out."

It took a few minutes to fill Mr. Dobbs in on all the details and he had an immediate plan.

"Look," he said, "Just like here, we have tons of machinery left behind when the upper classes left. We also got the bulk of the money and tools left behind. And better still, we got the smartest and best educated of the lower class here in New Freeland. What they need more than anything is money to buy parts and people with the skill and knowledge to fix things. They don't like us because we took a hard stand against slavery in any form, but their dealings with the north are always completely in the north's favor. We have seven purification machines. If you boys can get one to run we can use that as a bargaining chip to get you free. I've access to enough money to sweeten the deal even more. Their government is rife with people willing to be bribed. I think we can do this, but we need to prove we have a machine that works when the person coming tomorrow gets here."

"There may be a little problem with that," I said. "I lied. I wanted freedom so much that I lied. Yeah, I do know a lot about the machines. But maybe not enough. And Don knows nothing."

"Besides, if they find out they have a slave who knows how to make it work why would they free him? As a slave he can always be made to make it work."

"I'd risk my life by sabotaging it if it came to that," I said.

"Not just your life, but your brother's too," Don said. "And probably mine and your friends. And they'd force you to watch before they killed you."

I looked at him and saw the same despair and hopelessness I saw when he told me I had to stand up for myself in the quarry. "What happened?" I asked.

"It was a kid, our age I guess, but kind of small for fourteen. He quit work and when they tried to force him he used his pick to attack one of the guards. They found out he had a brother and brought the brother to the stage. We had to watch while each guard, even the adults, fucked his brother. And then each of us had to fuck him. We tore the kid apart; he was just a small kid to start with. He was still alive, but he'd never be the same, we all knew that. And they put a device that held the older brother's eyelids open so he had to watch it all. Then he was run through the rock crusher and his brother sent back somewhere."

Don was openly crying, and none of us had anything to say for a long time. I eventually hugged him and he hugged me back. "I'll never be able to forget that or get forgiveness for the fact that I participated in it."

"There was nothing you could do," I said.

"There was. The kid wanted us to join him; he wanted to lead a revolt. There were far more of us then there were guards, we were older, bigger, and had weapons. Yeah, we'd have eventually been caught and killed, but we could certainly have escaped the quarry and maybe one or two of us could have gotten out somehow. But we didn't. We refused to join up with him. And we raped his little brother."

There was nothing to say after hearing that story. And I had not had any idea that Don had been living with that when I freed him. So now I had to find a way to keep us free. And to get Greg, Trent, and Ricky free too.

"Take me to the machine," I said quietly while still holding onto Don. "Let's see if I can get it to run. If so, we need to make the deal of a lifetime. I want three other slaves freed to. But if I can't make the machine work than you have to forget us and let them take us back. You can't put yourself at risk. And especially not Tony or Lily. Save us or save them and if you have to make a choice save them."

To Don I whispered, "Stay here, play with Tony, have fun. I'll work on the machine. I'll do my best. I got you this far, I'm not going to give up now."

"I'm coming with you," he said. "You're about the only family I have. Besides, someone has to teach you the rules. You're too stupid to stop others from stealing from you." He pulled away from me and forced a smile on his face. But I knew from now on I'd always be seeing that sadness in his eyes.

The purifier didn't look like it was in bad shape, but after ensuring there was fuel in the tank and the valves were set right it just wouldn't start. The engine that drove it was dead. I checked all the obvious things but everything seemed okay. So I sat and tried my best to get the image of what Don saw out of my head and concentrate on how the machine worked; all the little things and details.

After several hours of failure, I was almost ready to give up, but Don wouldn't let me. "Suppose you knew you were leaving this behind but didn't want the lowers to be able to use it. What would you do?"

"You mean if I were to sabotage it?" I started thinking along that angle. First I took the start switch apart and found the contacts had tape over them. I cleaned them up but still got no action from the machine. I'd previously checked the battery and found the cells were full. We tried to charge it but assumed it was fully charged because we couldn't charge it further. This time I swapped the battery from Mr. Benson's car into the purifier. That still didn't work.

I found a battery acid tester that I'd seen my dad use once and determined that the acid in the original battery was nothing but water, so someone had time to sabotage it several ways. I started over, checking each item in order needed to start the engine.

It took hours, and I found over a dozen things that had been altered, misconnected, or broken and fixed them all. Then I pressed the start button. It turned, jerked, and started. I shut it down and started working on the purification parts.

Mrs. Benson brought food and Lily and Tony with her. I tried to refuse to eat but Don said that he and Tony would hold me down and force feed me if I didn't eat, so I took a quick break before going back to work.

By midnight I was satisfied that I had found all the items that would prevent it from working and started it up. We connected the foul water supply and let the machine do what it was designed to do. After a time, the water coming out the other end began to come out clean and without an odor. Mr. Benson tried to stop me, but I took a drink and declared it safe to drink.

"We need to get acid for that battery so you can have your car battery back," I said. "But we have something to trade with them. Now all we have to do is figure out how to keep them from realizing that I'm more important than the machine is and then determine their price for freedom for five slaves."

I couldn't sleep that night and my tossing and turning kept Don awake as well, so we gave up and sat and talked. I found out he was an only child and his mother had died when he was ten. His father was killed storming privileged town. It was the first time I'd realized that he hadn't been a member of the privileged class like me, he'd been a lower. Yet because he was homeless he immediately was chipped and became a slave two weeks before his fourteenth birthday.

I told him my life story and to his credit he never tried to tell me how lucky I'd been or criticize my standing. He told me that among the lowers there were three levels and that he was in the upper of the three. That meant that he had almost as much schooling as me and instead of unimportant work he was learning a trade as a carpenter. I had never know that of divisions in the lower class.

My education at the hands of Don continued throughout the night. He was full of knowledge of things that I had never been taught or considered and I felt ashamed for my lack of knowledge of how things were for the lower class.

Somewhere just before dawn we decided we'd better get some sleep as we might have a long day ahead of us.

Just after breakfast two cars and a large van pulled up in front of the Benson's house. We all went out to meet them. One car was a government official from New Freeland, the second had a single adult and two boys around twelve or thirteen years old. The van had three armed men from Freeland. Everyone got out of the vehicles.

"We'll be taking our slaves back now," the adult with the two boys said. "These are my sons and they are the new masters." The man turned to the two boys and said, "Get them naked and put collars on them so we can take them home."

"Wait a second," Mr. Benson said. "I bought them from their previous master and I have the paperwork to prove it."

"Sorry sir," the official from the New Freeland said. "But that would mean that you own them and that is a very serious offense that would cause me to have you arrested. You face jail and your family evicted from the country. So let's not claim ownership of any slaves right now, okay?"

I saw Mr. Benson glance at Tony and Lily and knew he remembered my warning about them becoming slaves. "Yes, of course, but if we could just delay a few minutes I'd like to show you something that may be important to all the people of Freeland."

"Slaves dressed as free people, without collars, is a crime," the man with the two boys said. "My boys will get them to comply with the law or we will force compliance. I'm in a hurry, I want to be out of here as quickly as possible."

The two boys advanced on us and I started undressing. Don was doing the same. We paused and bent down to allow them to put new collars on our necks. That apparently was too much for Tony for he suddenly attacked the kid collaring me, throwing punches and kicking.

"Defend me or I'll punish you," the boy said.

I pulled Tony back and told him to stop. He argued until Mrs. Benson came and picked him up and headed for the house. It was then that he said he'd stop, he wanted to say goodbye, but she took him into the house anyway.

"Now, get those clothes off and let's see what we have here," the boys said to us.

Right there on the street, again with several kids gathering around to watch, we stripped. Once naked, we were ordered to stand at attention next to the car, facing the largest group of kids. I noticed that Lily was among them and couldn't keep from getting an erection. The adults moved to the porch to have a conversation that we could no longer hear.

"Any of you girls want to touch them?" My master asked the crowd of kids.

"Or any boys want them to suck your dick?" Don's master asked. The kids began moving closer. The only adults around were the guards from Freeland and I knew they would do nothing to help us. In fact, if they did anything it would be to encourage our masters to do more.

"Is it really okay for me to touch it?" a girl asked me.

"Don't ask him, he's just a slave and I own him. If you want to touch him go ahead."

I felt the girls hand on my dick and it twitched, making her step back.

"What the hell is going on here!" The Benson's neighbor had arrived. She started yelling at our masters until the guards pointed rifles at her and told her to leave or face arrest. She started to argue with them and they operated the bolt to move a bullet into the chamber. Her face turned white and she ran off.

"Slavery is bad," the girl who touched me said. She started to reach out to touch me again but my master slapped her hand away. "If it's so bad then you can't touch my slave. Go away."

Two other girls stepped forward to take her place. "Make them cum," a boy in the back yelled. "Rub their dicks and watch what happens." One girl looked up at my Master. He must have nodded because she began to stroke my dick while the other girl went over to Don.

I couldn't help myself, I was being jacked off by a girl with soft hands. My knees bent but my master held me up and I came, shooting my jizz onto the street. Don came a few seconds after I did.

"What do you think of slavery now?" my master asked. "Anyone else want to try?"

"Uh, how about that other thing?" a boy asked. "But not out here in the open."

"Which one do you want?" Don's master asked as he opened a car door.

"Both of them," the boy said. My best friend wants one too." The windows in the back of the car were tinted so that you couldn't see inside. While the negotiations were taking place on the porch Don and I were giving blow jobs to several boys who wanted one. Once there was a pause, we sucked our masters off as well. There was no doubt that we were once again slaves.

We had just finished pleasing our master's when their father came up to the car. He opened the front door and ignored the fact that we had our mouths over his son's dicks.

"They're talking about not letting you guys have them as slaves," he said. "So stop that and get them in the trunk and let's get going. Once we're out of this land and back home they'll never be able to claim them." He got out and popped open the trunk, but before he could get back in someone shouted from the porch to stop them. The guards stepped forward and pointed their rifles at the car and ordered all of us to get out.

My master still hadn't pulled his pants up after the blowjob I gave him and he was struggling to get them up when the door opened and a guard pulled him out and tossed him onto the tree lawn. He stood and saw that the crowd of kids were now looking at his dick and laughing and quickly turned his back to them while he pulled up his pants. And then he saw me smiling.

I couldn't help it. Even if it was for just a few seconds, he'd been the one exposing his junk to other kids. He was the one they laughed at. And I smiled. "I'll get you for this," he said to me.

The guards took the keys for the car and negotiations resumed on the porch while the adult and our masters stood there uneasily until the guards lowered their weapons.

The crowd of kids looking at Don and me was growing as word spread. Kids were even taking pictures. I was beginning to see how the idea of slavery could be easily sold as okay to teens. The ability to own a teen, to make him suck you or your friends was something that was naturally appealing to boys just entering puberty.

Finally, the adults came down from the porch. The official from the Free Land told the guards that we were to be taken to the area between the gates and held there until things could be worked out and that he was going to go have a look at some machinery.

The guards ordered us into the van with them where we were strapped down on the floor in the back. Once again, I was on my way back to Free Land as a slave, only this time I had a thin sliver of hope. The truck drove until we reached the first border crossing. Their paperwork was checked and we continued until we were somewhere near the gate to enter the Free Land. Then the engine was shutoff and the guards got out, leaving us strapped to the floor of the van.

I don't know how long we lay there. Inside the van it quickly grew hot and sweat was pouring off our bodies. I even heard the father threaten the soldiers should his son's slaves be harmed by the heat. The guards for the most part ignored him.

Another car pulled up and a discussion took place just beyond where Don or I could hear. We got a few words, but nothing that helped us determine what was taking place. After a few minutes the rear door of the van opened and we were unstrapped and pulled out of the van.

"Come on slaves, get in the car," my master said to me and Don. "We're going home."

We had nearly made it. To be returned as slaves again was almost more than I could stand.

Punishment for my smiling at my master when he was exposed to the kids started as soon as we got to their house. I was ordered to sit on a bed and pull my legs up over my head, where they used rope to tie them in place. Then they ordered Don to fuck me. After him, they each took a turn. The only good thing was that their dicks were small, four to five inches [10-13 cm] long and not very thick. But Don's dick was longer and thicker and it hurt when he fucked me. Then I was untied and ordered to suck each of them off, starting with Don.

Once that was done we were given shaving equipment and told to make sure we had no pubic hair anywhere. That was followed by me getting paddled by Don until I cried and then fucked by the three of them again.

By then it was time for dinner. Don was given a plate and allowed to eat standing up, but my food was put in a bowl on the floor and my hands tied behind my back so that I had to eat it like a dog. Watching me made both the boys hard again so as I ate they took turns fucking me again. "I'll bet you're not laughing now," my master said as he drove his dick into me. "Just wait, I've got a lot more planned for you."

And he did. After dinner we were taken out back where he invited eight of his friends over and they all took turns at my ass followed by blowjobs. As bad as it was, my master was determined to make it worse. "We're having a sleep over, and any kid that wants any part of you can have it." As it got dark I was tied again with my legs next to my head so that my ass was easily available for fucking. I lost count of how many times the ten boys used me.

As I struggled with cramps while the others slept I started thinking of ways in which I could commit suicide.

The boys picked up where they left off the night before and Don was ordered to fuck me again too before I was released. My intestines were filled with cum and I was given a bowl to shit in.

"You'd better go to the hose and clean it good because that's your food bowl," my master said with a smile. Without soap I figured I'd get sick and hoped sick enough to die. But when I came back the boys were busy jacking off into a bowl with cereal in it-my breakfast, not flavored with their cum. Don couldn't look at me as I ate it.

But after breakfast came a surprise. Their dad came out back and told the boys to say goodbye to their friends and bring Don and me to the car. "They're supposed to be some kind of hotshot repair men and their going to try and fix a water purifier. If they can the government made some kind of deal for them. We need to be there in a few minutes, so let's get going."

The boys had questions about the deal but their father had no information to give them or he did but didn't want Don and I to hear it. Either way, I knew that I had to get another one running or I'd be the slave to the little bastard who still hated me for smiling at him when he was nearly naked in public.

There were several people standing around when we pulled up, including two armed guards. When we got out we were told to go to work on the closest machine. I was given six hours to prove I knew what I was doing or the deal they'd made was off.

The methods of sabotage were different, but once I knew that it was sabotage and not a failure I was able to make good progress. My master stayed right behind me for the first couple of hours, but then he sat next to the controls while I worked in the sun. I figured I'd found all of the sabotaged items and was ready to test it, but first I needed a battery.

One of the guards went to get one from their truck and I connected it and went to the controls. My master smiled at me and said, "When you fail to fix this you're going to be mine forever and last night was just a warmup for what's to come."

I pressed the start button and nothing happened. "Okay 137, you failed. Let's go home," my master said.

"How much time do I have left?" I asked the man who originally told me I had six hours.

"Shut up! You don't talk unless I tell you that you can and I didn't. You'll get punished extra for that when we get home. Go to the car."

My master's father looked at him and said, "Bobby, we need this machine to work. We've had dozens of people work on it and nobody had a clue how to fix it. This slave apparently fixed one before, so I'm overriding you."

The official looked at me and said, "I'll give you an extra fifteen minutes, which leaves you thirty minutes to get it running."

I frantically tried to think of anything I had overlooked in the starting system, anything I hadn't checked, but there was nothing. The wiring was the easiest to mess with, so I grabbed some wire from the repair kit and tried re-wiring the switch to the starting motor. Still nothing. As time ran out I was out of ideas.

"Okay, maybe you have wasted our time," the official said.

"Wait, one last thing," I said. I didn't wait for a response but started removing the start switch. Bobby, apparently that was my Master's name, slapped the back of my hand with an iron rod he had found.

"The man said you are done. Get to the car or I'll beat you senseless with this."

Even I knew that would be a serious offense. But he really reacted when I started to pull the switch. I thought that a bone was broken in my right hand and there was a cut that was bleeding but I continued to work on the switch. Bobby raised the rod back but his father took it away from him before he could hit me again.

The contacts inside the switch were taped. And one of the first things I had done was to remove the tape from the contacts. And Bobby had been right there watching me.

"Somebody replaced the tape I removed from these contacts," I said as I removed the tape again. I re-installed the switch and pressed it and with a groin and a bang the machine slowly started up. I shut it down immediately.

"There's still something wrong with the oil," I said and went down to the motor. I had checked the oil to make sure it was full and that it was oil and not water, but now there was a fresh puddle of oil under the motor. "The oil's been drained."

"I saw him remove the tape from the switch," one of the guards said. "The boy was watching. He followed 137 when he checked the oil and then he stopped following. I think the boy was sabotaging the equipment." He pulled out a radio and walked away talking into it.

"I didn't do nothing," Bobby said. "He just forgot to check stuff and wants to blame me because I punished him last night for laughing at me."

"I need two quarts of 10W30 oil," I said. "I'm positive everything else will work but I can't check it until then. If you'll let me, I'll go over everything again until somebody gets the oil I need."

One of the men who'd been watching me and taking notes said he'd go and get the oil. I used the time to try and re-check everything I'd already checked, but the pain in my hand was getting worse. Don came over and became my right-hand man. I told him what to do and he did it while I held my hand up over my chest. It didn't hurt as much that way.

I had Don add the oil carefully as I'd forgotten to as for a funnel too, but once the oil was in the engine I started it up and it ran smoothly. I guided Don into starting the water system and in a few minutes we had clear water coming out. One of them men had a plastic bottle and took a sample of the water. "I'll test this right now, it should only take a few minutes.

The guard who had walked off came back. "Robert Wells, you have been found guilty of intentionally damaging government equipment. You are to come with me. NOW."

"No, there's no proof…" his father started but the other guard raised his gun.

"He will be chipped and sold at the next auction. You have ten seconds to say goodbye," the first guard said.

Bobby was crying, screaming he was sorry, he'd never do it again as the guard ordered him to strip. When he didn't, the guards worked together to strip the boy completely before strapping him to the floor of the van. And oddly enough, I felt sorry for him.

By then the man who took the sample came back and said the water was safe to drink. The guy in charge came to me and Don. "Given the circumstances, I'm going to put you two in jail rather than send you home with Mr. Wells. He couldn't take both of you anyway. If the men who watched you can use their notes to fix another purifier then your chips will be removed. If not, you'll be brought back here to see what they missed. We need to know that we can repair the damage without you before you will be freed."

"But not back to jail, please," I said.

He slapped me, hard across the face. "You are still a slave and without a master. Jail is where you are going. And don't ever presume to question my orders."

Before jail they were required to take me to a clinic to have my hand checked out. It turned out I was right, there was a broken bone in my wrist. They bandaged the cut, put a cast on my hand, and gave me a shot. But no pain medications. Slaves don't get pain medication.

Mr. Bartley, the jailer, was pleased to see me. "You just can't seem to stay out of here, can you 137. What's your friends name?"

Without thinking I said, "Don," and immediately regraded it.

"Oh, that's a problem," Bartley said. "Slaves don't have names, and my chip detector says he has a chip. So either you didn't know he was a slave or you violated a rule and gave him a name. Which is it?"

I didn't dare lie, violating a rule could already make the deal more difficult, so I admitted I gave him a name.

"And how did you know to give him the name Don?"

This was trickier. To say he told me would be to implicate him in a rule violation. Don took it upon himself to answer. "We were told we were free and I told him my name."

"But you weren't free, were you number 87. But I'll ignore these rule violations if you ask me to find some friends to keep both of you company tonight."

It wouldn't matter if we asked or not, he had already proved he suppled free kids access to jailed slaves. But what might matter would be him not bring up the rule violations. "I'd like to have some company tonight sir."

Don looked at me for a moment before repeating what I had said.

I expected Luke and Kevin, the two bullies I first met on the bus with Ricky months ago, but instead he brought in a dozen kids who must have ranged in age from twelve to fourteen. He told us that it was our job to get into whatever position they wanted but that if we left the cell for any reason it would constitute escape.

I could see the obvious problem with that if the kids decided to drag me out of my cell, but he must have guessed they might do that as well because he warned the boys that any attempt to help either of us escape would be enough for him to declare them slaves right on the spot.

I'd had little sleep the night before because of Bobby and his brother and his friends, and now my hand hurt terribly, but Don and I were at the mercy of the dozen boys. They stayed the night and both of us got fucked several times and gave dozens of blow jobs before Bartley came back and told them to leave.

"Now it's my turn," he said. He came into my cell and told me to undress him. I did. "Now, if you want some lube, you'll have to use your own saliva." I took his huge dick into my mouth and moistened it as much as I could before he ordered me to my knees with my head on the floor and my ass available for his use.

"I'll save your friend from the same if you ask me if he can come and fuck you too."

I'd rather be fucked yet again by Don if it meant that he wouldn't have that huge dick up his ass, so I asked. Don was escorted into my cell and told he had three minutes to fill my ass with his cum or he'd get fucked anyway.

He wasn't hard yet and was trying to get it hard with his hands when I swung around and took it into my mouth.

"I always figured you enjoyed doing that," Bartley said. "That's why you're always ready to have some company in your cell."

I'd gotten Don hard and told him to hurry. He drove into me and began stroking in and out and it only took a few minutes before he added his sperm to Bartley's.

He left us in the same cell with just one food tray and he didn't lock my cell door. It was a clear attempt by him to try and trick Don into returning to his own cell. We split the meal and stayed together. When Bartley came back I had already told Don about his passion for boners and we both had one. He scowled when he saw that Don had not left and used his rough hand to jack Don off before locking him in his cell and me in mine.

He was back in a few hours. Since we heard him coming we both had time to work our dicks and get hard. He smiled as he unlocked the cells and told us to be sure and keep them hard. He led us out front where an armed guard and the official from yesterday were waiting for us, along with a young nurse.

The nurse frowned as she saw the two of us walk out with erections. I can only imagine what she must have thought of us, but she sat Don down first and went to work.

Without the benefit of Novocain or other drug she made a small incision in his right shoulder and used forceps to dig around while he squirmed in pain until she found the chip and removed it. She bandaged the incision and told me to sit down

It hurt like hell, and on top of the pain in my wrist I couldn't sit still. "I need him immobilized before I cut something that shouldn't be cut," she said. Bartley solved it by pulling me to a hook in the wall and handcuffing my right wrist to it. He then pulled my body (getting a good feel of my dick at the same time) and held me with my arm out straight.

The nurse dug in and eventually found the chip and removed it and I was released.

"I don't know what our country is turning into," Bailey said. "Releasing prisoners directly from my jail and making them free." I knew what really bothered him though. He wasn't making any money on it.

We were loaded into a car and driven to the border where our papers were checked. "This is as far as I take you," the government man said. "Your work was good enough for us to repair another machine, so you are now free. The government of New Freeland has been notified and agreed to let you emigrate there. Hopefully someone is coming to pick you up."

With that we crossed the border as free persons. Although we were still quite naked.

We could barely make out the next gate that would mark the official boundary of New Freeland. We guessed it was a good three or four miles [5-6 km] up the road. We were warned to stay on the road as the sides were mined.

As we got closer we saw that just the military vehicles were parked there. We completed the walk and showed them our papers and asked for water, which they supplied. We were about ready to beg for a ride when we saw Mr. Benson's car approaching. We stepped outside to meet him.

He drove up. I saw Lily in the front seat and Tony in the back and a very surprised look on Mr. Benson's face. Lily also looked surprised, Tony just looked happy. He bounded out of the car before it was even stopped and ran to us and hugged us, ignoring our nudity. As Lily and Mr. Benson approached he stepped back and said, "Your hair is gone." He was pointing at our groins.

Lily couldn't have not looked and didn't even try to look us in the eye. Two naked boys a year older than her standing there hot and tired and sweaty. I didn't blame her. If she was naked I know I wouldn't have been able to look only at her face.

I, uh, I'm sorry, I never dreamed they'd send you back naked," Mr. Benson said. "I didn't bring any clothes."

"It's okay Mr. Benson," Don said. "They've both seen us. We just want to get away from the border and somewhere safe. I don't care about being naked."

But his erection betrayed his statement that he didn't care. We got in the back seat with Tony, somewhat to Lily's disappointment, and told the story as we were driven back to the Benson house. Tony seemed happy when we got to the part about Bobby becoming a slave.

"Did they make him strip right there?" he asked.

"They told him to and when he didn't they stripped him," I said. "It isn't fun. Think about how you would feel if Don and I stripped you naked out on the street in front of your house."

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said. "But he still deserved it."

I started questioning my own thoughts against slavery at that point because right then I agreed with Tony. He did deserve it. And I had a much better concept of slavery than hopefully Tony ever would.

"What about my brother and my friends," I asked.

"No news. It's being considered, that's all I know. I'm sorry, I know how much it means to you and I promise, I'm doing all I can to get them freed."

When we got to their house Mr. Benson sent Tony to get us some clothing and told Lily to go inside. She took a last look at Don and I as she got out and closed the door before heading for the house. We dressed as much as we could in the back seat of the car before getting out.

Mrs. Benson came running out as soon as she saw us, having waited until we were decent.

"We need to get them to a clinic," her husband said. "They did crude surgery and the chance of infection is quite high from what the boys told me. We finished dressing and all of us got back in the car.

The clinic wanted to do a complete inspection and blood tests. They commented on tearing around my anus and put some cream on it and said I'd have to come back in a week. Don was given a clean bill of health. We both got several shots and then got dressed again before going out to where the Bensons were sitting in the living room. An appointment was made for me.

I asked if there was a way I could call my parents but phone connections to the Northland required prior government approval. I was told I could write a letter, but it would be opened and read by someone in the government before being sent. I was somewhat careful what I said but let them know that I was alive and well and the chip had been removed and I'd find a way to get to them but first I needed to stay here. I wanted to tell them about Greg, but Mr. Benson said they might send the letter back if I mentioned that we were trying to get him free.

A few months had passed. Don had been asked by the Bensons if he wanted to be officially adopted by them, which bothered me slightly because I had come to think of him as another brother. I asked every week about Greg but there was always no news. After a few days of thought Don turned down the being adopted.

Don and I were in school, making up for missed education. The classes here were much easier than what I had been used to but Don was struggling so I helped him a lot. He and Tony bonded quite well, which also made me feel like a fifth wheel. Don assured me that as far as he was concerned he and I would always be brothers.

Then one day I realized that my birthday was in three weeks. I'd be fifteen, and Don's birthday would be a few weeks after that. I asked to delay mine so we could celebrate together but everyone, including Don, thought that my birthday was my day and not his and he wanted to sing happy birthday to me.

However, as it got closer I felt that Don was spending more time with the Bensons. Don and Tony took off somewhere on bikes without ever inviting me and made up obvious lies about where they'd been when they got back. Twice when I walked into the room the conversation ended. I asked him about it but he said I was crazy, there was nothing going on. I didn't believe him and started to distance myself from him. He had Tony. Without him, I had-myself.

I started to spend some time with a few kids I met in school, but it was hard because I didn't want to discuss my past with them. Don seemed more and more distance every day. The last straw came when he, Mr. Benson, and Tony came home two days before my birthday with paint on their clothes. I asked where they'd been and they told me just helping a neighbor.

"I would have helped if anyone had told me," I said. I looked directly at Don and he turned away from me. I swore (something that was prohibited in the Benson house) and stormed out, slamming the door behind me as I left. I decided to sleep in Tony's fort that night.

Lily came out when I didn't come in for dinner. I tried to explain but she stopped me. "Don loves you, and you being mad at him is tearing him up worse than it is you. You said he's like a brother, he even turned down being adopted because he wanted to be your brother. Give him a chance; things will work out."

She left, but she left me some dinner. I slept terribly that night. First, it was cool with a wind blowing and I hadn't brought a blanket or anything. Second, it was small and cramped inside Tony's fort. And third, I was worried that Lily was right and it was me who was being the asshole.

We had school the day of my birthday and I knew they were planning a party for when Don and I got home. But at the end of the day I went out a different exit in order to walk home instead of riding the bus.

I wasn't sure how I was going to react when they 'surprised' me with a party that I already knew about. Rather than go in through the front door I went around to the back and walked in. And there sitting at the kitchen table were Greg, Trent, and Ricky.

"Hey bro, it's about time you got home," Greg said to me as if it had been a few hours since the last time he'd seen me. I couldn't hold them back, the tears just came rolling down my cheeks and there, on the day I turned fifteen, I cried like a baby.

Greg had changed. He was a little taller and his voice a little deeper. But he was still my little brother.

"How, when, where?" I couldn't even get a coherent question out.

"Three days ago," Greg said. "We knew we were going to be freed about two weeks ago, but we didn't get here until three days ago. I never, ever, was able to surprise you on your birthday so this had to be the year. I swore everyone to total secrecy. So happy birthday Gerry." All I could do was hold him and cry. All, well most, of Don's behavior explained in an instant. I knew I was going to have to apologize big time for mine.

"Hey, you'd better get a grip because there's a whole lot more surprises coming," Ricky said. "Let's go surprise the people who are waiting for you to walk in the front door.

The next surprise was just as big. As I walked into the living room my parents were sitting on the couch. Next to them was Don, and he had a big sign that said "My name is Don Boswell as of yesterday."

"Oh crap, now I've got to share you," Greg said.

"I'm sorry, but your brother made me take an oath that no matter how bad it got I couldn't tell you," Don said. "Something about him trying to surprise you every year and failing miserably. But now we don't have to pretend we're brothers any longer. Happy birthday brother." The tears started up again.

I squeezed in between Greg and my parents. "How long can you stay?" I asked.

"We have to go home tonight," my mom said. "All of us."

Then it hit me. I wouldn't be seeing the Bensons again. More tears. More hugs. When I got to Tony he said, "Don't worry, I'll come over and visit."

"It might be a bit hard buddy," I said to him. "Traveling from here to there is hard."

"It's only two blocks. I've been riding my bike there for a week and helping out and painting. You and Don have a really cool room."

I turned to my parents again.

"There were too many changes we didn't agree with in the Northland so we got permission to emigrate here. We have a house just up the road. We won't live as nicely as we did before, but we'll get by. I'll be helping to get machinery going and your mom starts as a school teacher tomorrow, so we'll be a typical working-class family."

Okay, you'd think the tears would have ended by now, but apparently not.

"How about you guys?" I asked Trent and Ricky.

"We haven't found our parents yet," Ricky said with a sad face. "Maybe we never will. Both our parents kept money they found in the houses we occupied, which was illegal. They got caught. So until we find them we're living with you. I guess for now we're your evil step brothers. So happy birthday Gerry."

And after all that there was still presents to open, and cake and ice cream.

"Let's see you top this on my birthday," Greg said. It was so unfair. He was now the king of the surprises, not me. There was no way on earth that I would ever be able to top this.

The End