bro-dad-owns-you-1-3

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Subject: Bro, Dad owns you. Part 1-3 (Authoritarian) This is a work of fiction. All characters in it are over 18 and you must be over 18 to read it. It takes place in an alternative America where slavery is legal and slaves over 18 can be used for sex. It takes place in the same world as my story Interfering with a Slave Collar. This chapter does not have incest, but other chapters might. Never do anything like this in real life. Respect others, report any suspected abuse, and wear protection in real life. Don't let your hormones get you into trouble. And consider donating to Nifty if you enjoy this or other stories. Part 1 The intercom at school went off, "Jeremy William Corgin, will you please come to the front office? Jeremy William Corgin, to the front office, please." If I had known what was to happen then, I would have run. I didn't. My mom had killed herself three years earlier. We all took it pretty hard, but my dad just stopped talking to me almost completely afterwards. We had been close before that, but afterwards there was just a barrier. Things got even worse when his old college roommate moved into the guest house. Terry Caswick was an asshole and a drunk, but dad loved him. He also treated my brothers great, but seemed to always make comments about me and how I needed more discipline. None of it made any sense to me. I was hoping he would be gone soon. But this was what happened. When the intercom went off, I was finishing up in gym class. We were playing flag football. It was shirts vs skins and I was skins. I was sweaty and ready for a shower, but Coach Johnny stopped me from getting in or even putting on a tshirt. He said, "Straight to the office." I was met at the office by my dad's attorney and some police officers. They told me we were needed at the house immediately. It was supposed to be my 18th birthday party that night. I was surprised when we got to the house. Both my brothers' cars were in the driveway and that meant they had come home from college. All I could imagine was dad having gotten into an accident or having a terminal disease or going bankrupt. He was fine. The police led me into his office and the attorney sat down by my father, on the other side of his big desk. I started to sit down by my brothers, but the cop on my left grabbed my arm. Dad looked at me and said, "You should stand for now, Jeremy." Then he explained what was going on. As he talked, the grip of the police got tighter. My chance of escaping slipped away. And then my father's attorney read the slave decree and the police witnessed my age and presence. I can still hear in my head: Jeremy Williams Corgin, you are hereby stripped of all rights as a free man and citizen and registered as David Corgin's chattel property. Serve your master well. It was one hour before I legally turned eighteen. One hour and I would have been free. One hour and none of this would have happened. The next hour was a blur. The slave police, for that's what they turned out to be, had it down to a routine. First, I was ballgagged so I couldn't speak. Then, I was stripped out of my gym shorts as my brothers watched. Finally, I was pushed to my knees in front of my father. I should have tried something, but I just cried as he locked the slave collar around my neck and said, "Get him out of here." To say I was shocked would be an understatement. The police took me to my bedroom and I saw neck and hand cuffs had been installed. They were high up on the reinforced wall where my projector screen had been when I left for school that morning. It was gone now. I was cuffed facing the wall, still naked, my neck immobile and my hands held in place. When I was secured, the police removed my gag and left. And my dad came in. I couldn't turn my head to see him, but I could smell his aftershave. We bought it for him every year at Christmas. I asked, "Dad, let me go, please. Don't do this. Please? Whatever I did, I'll fix it." He took a breath and said: You need to understand, despite what I'm about to say, this isn't about the money. I've spent over half şişli travesti (https://www.istanbullife.info/) a million dollars just to send you to the best private schools. I loved you like you were my own. But your mother, see, she lied to me. I heard him moving around then and the sound of a bag or something being opened. Then he continued: When your mother died, she left a note. I didn't let you see it, but I showed it to your brothers and we talked about it. You see, when we were young, after your brother Chip was born, she cheated on me with a drunk college boy. She never told me, but her being pregnant with you was what got us back together. I thought it was a sign. I heard something then. A whistling sound. Then pain. I screamed at the top of my lungs as my back felt the kiss of the slave whip for the first time. I was blubbering please over and over. He ignored it and continued talking: I was going to pretend it wasn't true. Let you live your whole life pretending I was your father. But then Terry convinced me how wrong that would be. Why should your brothers lose part of their inheritance because your mother let some frat boy rut in her? It wouldn't be fair. He was right behind me now. I felt his hands running up and down my flesh. His fingers lingered on the cut, making me wince and tremble. I couldn't stop shaking. He whispered in my ear: So, Terry suggested I auction you off as a common slave. Let that money go to your brothers and their trust. Make back for your brothers what was stolen. He pulled back then and this time I felt it and heard it at the same time. I screamed so loud my brother David ran into the room. I heard him say, "Holy Fuck, dad, what did he do?" Dad ignored the question and said: Your brothers had a simpler solution. They'd forgive the lost money for your school and upkeep. You'd be indentured for life, so you couldn't inherit or be part of the trust, but stay here. Still family, just also property. Serving us to make up the debt. I finally got ahold of myself to say, "Dad, please, don't enslave me. Don't do this." I felt his body move against me and he said, "Slaves call me master." Then he was gone, just saying to David as he left, "Get him down and then lock him in his room. Terry will start his training tomorrow." As David unlocked me, he said, "Whatever you did to get the whip, bro, don't it again. Dad owns you now. And you know how he expects slaves to treat freemen." I could barely mumble, "Yes, master" to my brother as I passed out from the pain. Part 2 I was pulled out of bed by my slave collar at 5 am. No warning. One minute, I was in bed. The next, I was on the floor gasping for air. I looked up to see Terry, in just boxers, standing above me. Terry was a fat ex-footballer. He made it all the way to the pros and then tore his ACL. All he had left from his football career was some real estate and a bad attitude. He was 6'1, 245 pounds, balding, and about 55. He had been sort of pale when he showed up, but after tanning at our pool he was now reddish brown. He didn't give me a second to recover before saying: A slave's day begins before five am. Sleeping in is worth five lashes. Missing a chore is worth five lashes. Failing to call a free man of this house master is worth five lashes. Disobeying a free man could cost you your tongue or balls or have you sold for parts. Is that understood, slave? I was barely awake, but the memory of yesterday and the whip was strong. My back still throbbed. I said, "Yes, master." He nodded and continued: Your father has asked me to train you. Your bad behavior will reflect badly on me. He set me no limits on your use or punishment. Your brothers are below me and your father, but in all other ways are to be treated as masters. They will tell me if you disobey and your father or I will wield the whip. Understood? I repeated, "Yes, master." He then proceeded to teach me slave positions. We had always had money, but the only family slave we ever had was our old maid. She had been freed for good service last year and never did any of this stuff. I was told, unless serving beylikdüzü travesti (https://www.istanbullife.info/) food or beverages, to always kneel face down with my hands clasped behind my back. In cases where I needed to stand, my fingers were to be locked together behind my back and my back straight. Unlike some states, ours didn't require slave uniforms. Therefore, I was allowed to wear regular clothes or whatever my master wanted. In this case, Terry didn't seem to care. He just told me to grab some clothes and meet him in the pool house bathroom. I'm not going to go over that whole first day. Most of it was establishing my chores and routine. Terry wanted me to be there when he woke up and to shower with him. He let me rinse myself off quickly and it was my job to lather and rinse and then dress him. Then it was to the kitchen. My first duty, even before bathing Terry, was coffee. I turned it on in the way to the pool house. After bathing him, I fetched him coffee and cooked breakfast. The first breakfast tray went covered outside my dad's room. The next went to my brothers. Immediately after breakfast, I was to clean the kitchen. After my family showered, I was to fetch their clothes and do laundry. After that, it varied. I always had to do lunch, but Terry was big into believing slaves should be fit. He would usually work me out an hour or two a day. Even though we had a gardening service and organic groceries delivered, he also had me work in the garden too sometimes. That first day, after breakfast and laundry, he just had me give him a massage. It was awkward. I was 5'9, 140 pounds, toned, short wavy brown hair, green eyes, and smooth. Terry was fat and hairy and old and gross. I had already seen his wrinkled ass and belly in the shower, even had to touch it, but when he laid out by the pool naked it was different. He gave me oil and said, "Massage me, slave. Show your master you know your place." And he looked at the windows to the kitchen. Where my dad was watching. I started with his shoulders and back, trying to ignore his body hair. I did his arms then and sort of skipped his ass and went to his thighs, thankful he was on his belly. Then he said, "Get my glutes good, boy." And I realized I had to touch it. I rubbed the oil on his butt and massaged it as he continued to groan. And then he flipped over. He was hard. It wasn't a monster dick or anything. He was probably only six inches. But he was completely hard. I had froze until he said, "My chest and thighs, boy." And I went back to work. He watched me and saw my nerves. And then, after a few minutes, he smiled and said, "No happy ending, until I talk to your father." And then it was on to lunch. Part 3 The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. I didn't see my dad until dinner and my brothers weren't around either. I'd like to think they were thinking of ways to rescue me or something. But I know better. I made pasta fagioli for dinner. It was dad's favorite and easy to do. I set the plates out and then did my best to try and act like the slaves at a restaurant. I stood by the serving table and brought wine and refilled their drinks. And I listened. Halfway through dinner, my father looked at me and then looked at Terry. He asked Terry, "How is he doing?" Terry took a drink of wine before answering and then gestured for me to refill his glass. I refilled it, but barely missed spilling it I was so nervous. Then Terry answered, sounding more posh and circumspect than I would have thought him capable of being, by saying: I know you don't intend to sell him, but a boy like him is most valuable as a trained body slave. Even if you intend to use him for collateral, later, the training will increase his value. As his father, do you object to him performing intimate duties? My dad looked taken aback for a minute and said, "Is that really necessary?" Terry replied, "David, he's chattel. Any master will expect to exercise their rights." I begged my father with my eyes not to let this happen. But my dad just nodded and said, "Of course. But discreetly." And that was all Terry needed. istanbul travesti (https://www.istanbullife.info/) After dinner, Terry led me to my bedroom and had me undress. Then he pulled out zipties and used the plastic rings to bind my hands behind my back. I was shaking, but he was just whistling. He flipped the sound system on and told my system to play my favorite music playlist. He told me, "Don't want your dad or bros to hear this, do we, slave?" Then he got my tablet and big studio headphones. I could hear the porn playing from the tablet as he flipped through the videos I had saved. It was mostly Asian girls sucking dick and getting assfucked. Then he told me, "Lay on your belly, legs off your bed, keep your back flat for the tablet." He adjusted my legs and I watched him undress. By now, I was really shaking. I kept thinking this couldn't happen. Somebody was going to save me. My dad, my brothers, somebody. I was a member of one of the richest families in the state. This couldn't happen. And then he stuffed his dirty boxer briefs into my mouth. And the sound of the tablet porn went away. And he fucked me. Terry I met David my freshman year in college. We banged more pussy together that year than most guys get in a lifetime. I was a star quarterback and he was the heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the state. Whenever I hit hard times, he didn't hesitate to invite me to use his guest house. And the very first time he was drunk, he told me about Jeremy not being his. It took me months of commenting on how boys like him needed discipline before I first "joked" about David enslaving him. It took even longer to focus all of David's rage about Annie cheating on him on Jeremy. And then, when I thought I was all set to get at least a 200k kickback when he sold the boy, the kid's brothers interfered. I convinced them to go along only by explaining that it would increase their trust funds and inheritance. Even then, they last minute fucked me with the whole "keep him in the family" proposition. But I didn't give up that easy. I knew all I had to really do was make them see him as a real slave, human chattel, property, and eventually they'd give in and sell him. This was the start. I looked down at him on his bed. A few days ago, he was a rich entitled brat. Now, his ass was quivering waiting for my dick. I didn't really like boypussy, but slave ass and slave throat and slave hands suited me fine. I jacked my cock a few times, groped and massaged his tiny little teenage ass, and lubed my cock. Then I shoved myself into him. Jeremy I screamed and it didn't matter. Even if he could have heard me through the underwear and headphones, it wouldn't have mattered. It felt like an iron rod was being shoved up my ass over and over with no mercy and it didn't matter. Because I was a slave. Because he was free. Because my father gave him permission. At first, he was standing and all I felt was his cock inside me. Then he moved the tablet off my back and I felt his weight on top of me. I could barely breathe he was so heavy. The smell of alcohol and cigars was suffocating me on top of his weight. And that's when the dirty talk started. It was a mix of him talking about the porn and him talking about me. He would say stuff like, "Yeah...spread those pussy lips bitch...finger your cunt...beg for it....I want to suck those titties...eat his cock..." And then say: You're so fucking tight, Jer. If I hadn't come here, you'd be off with your friends. But this is what you deserve. You're a worthless human dick ditch for real men. I did this to you, boy. You'll never fuck pussy again. Gonna sell your pretty ass to a brothel. Whore you out." I want to say I passed out or don't remember that first time, but it'd be a lie. I remember him drooling on my face. Slapping my ass. Twisting my nipples as he rutted in me. I remember the burning of his cock as it tore up my ass and the sweat dripping off his body onto mine, even stinging my eyes. And I remember the first time he came in me. His butt lifted off me, his dick pulled almost all the way out, and then he slammed his cock in hard. Then he did it again and again and again. And then he shoved it in harder and grunted and groaned and I felt his dick swell and feel my ass. Every hard thrust shot another wad of old man cum up my butt. Then he collapsed on top of me.