Chapter 2 002

It was tricky to know exactly what kind of slave I wanted to be. I could work for a woman in all sorts of roles – sexual or otherwise. While I sat pondering the questions on the form, a younger man came in and walked up to the desk, hand in hand with a blonde woman his age. I guessed they were both in their early twenties, keen and spritely.

"Back again, Tom?" said the receptionist.

"Yes, mistress. Another two weeks please."

The receptionist gave a form over to him. He quickly checked it over and signed, then a calm seemed to come over him. The blonde clipped a collar around his neck and leashed him there and then, stripping the few garments he'd come in wearing and folding them into her bag. After she had him kiss the receptionist's bottom, she led him out of the center, his chastity-caged cock clearly straining in its prison. They could walk like that through most of the city, so long as they took care to avoid the family areas. I envied them both.

Above the counter, a display screen counted the new contract. Number of new slaves today: 23. I wondered what had happened to the other 22. Were they in the back of the building or had they been enslaved to a particular owner?

I finished up the form, reading over the contract in detail. I was game for most things, it seemed – in fact, it seemed like I was keen to experiment. Strange how you only learn these things when you write them down. I had some limits – bodily waste, cutting, that kind of thing. I tried to see it as an adventure, but there was always fear. What if I had three months of pure humiliation ahead? I shook my head clear. I would enjoy it or endure, but either way, I was doing it.

"There you go, mistress," I said. "I'm ready to sign if my terms are acceptable."

"The AI says they're just fine. Aileen? Can you come witness please?"

From the rear office, a shapely redhead emerged, trailing a pet male who crawled behind her on a leash. She snapped her fingers and he sat on his haunches, his cock and balls on clear display, his mitted hands raised up in begging posture. The redhead looked me over and smiled, nodding to the receptionist to begin.

"Prospective slave, thumbprint here and read the oath of slavery out loud. When the oath is completed and myself and the witness have thumb printed the contract, your term of slavery will begin. Two weeks of training as a slave of the state, and fifteen weeks of slavery belonging to a private individual, to purchase you from our market."

I'd expected them to add a training period. Two weeks wasn't bad. I let my thumb press down into the pad and began to read aloud.

"I, Kieron Faber, agree to forfeit my freedom for a period of seventeen weeks beginning from the moment I finish this oath, subject to the terms laid out in this contract. I understand that subject to specified limits, I will be a slave for the specified period. I consent to whatever uses I am put to during these seventeen weeks, subject to the limits specified. I acknowledge that these uses may be sexual. I acknowledge that I will likely be kept naked for my period of slavery. I acknowledge that I will be fitted with control devices and may be punished by or on behalf of my owner. I consent to the physical and psychological harm this will cause. I commit myself to become a slave."

"Good boy," said the receptionist, addressing my new status with the diminutive term. "Now, follow me."

"Yes, um?"

"Address me as mistress, just like you did before, slave."

"Yes, mistress."

I followed the receptionist through the heavy security doors that separated the foyer from the enslavement area. My eyes ran up and down her back, down her shapely legs to her high-heeled feet. Her red shoes clicked and clicked on the tiled floor as she brought me through to a medical room, lined with clean white tiles and surgical steel instruments. Like most such rooms on this planet, restraints were fitted into every wall and even the floor. Without hesitation, she stretched out my arms and shackled my hands to chains that emerged from opposite walls. A button press was all it took to stretch them out, helpless. She did the same with my legs, then left without a word.

I stood there spread-eagled and stretched out for half an hour. A camera in the ceiling blinked on and started to watch me, but no one came. Slaves are not waited on; we wait. I called out but a shock hit me from the chains. On the walls, the words "Silence, slave" appeared in red text. I was silent. It was coming back to me now, the sensation of being a slave. To have no control, to be utterly at the mercy of the person or organization you belonged to. My mind drifted into fantasies of serving dominant women, and my cock sprang up hard inside my jeans.

The door opened and two women walked in. One was clearly the doctor. She had dark skin and a bright white coat. Her eyes burned with passion and she wore a superior smirk. I could tell she loved her job. The other woman was a slave like me, collared, but dressed in a normal nurse's uniform, but with a see-through plastic skirt that let everyone see her shaved pussy. She had light brown skin, still, a few shades darker than pale me.

"Well done for volunteering, boy," said the doctor, "I see it's your first time. Don't worry, behave and we won't bite. Nurse-slave, strip, and depilate this male."

"Yes, mistress," purred the nurse.

She took up a pair of shears and started to cut my shirt away. The cheap fabric fell in a heap on the floor. The nurse worked slowly, now slipping my shoes and socks off. She ran her hands up and down my legs, squeezing my thighs, still encased in my jeans. Then she snipped the base of the right leg. With each snip, she paused momentarily, letting me feel the clothing gradually give way. All the while, the doctor busied herself setting up diagnostic equipment for a full medical.