Executive Slave 3

Author: plugged
Title: Executive Slave 3
Date: 01 February 2006

white collar
Executive Slave



Executive Slave -- Chapter 4

I was about to try to lie down again when I saw several pairs of guards coming into the cellblock and heading for different cells. Thinking the pair that were headed in the general direction of my cell might be coming for me, I waited, standing in the middle of my cell. Sure enough, they came to my cell and opened the door.

The guards entered my cell, ordering me to spread my legs slightly fartherthan shoulder width. As I complied, one of them moved behind me and removed the cuffs from my wrists. I rubbed my dented flesh and shook my hands, trying to restore the circulation. They gave me a few seconds and ordered me to place my hands behind my head, fingers interlaced. Having observed the inspection of the units just minutes before, I quickly assumed the position.

"Good boy," one said. He was a tall man, probably six two, with blonde hair and blue eyes. His nameplate said "Malloy".

"Now listen carefully," Malloy said. "We're taking you down to complete your initial intake processing. You won't be cuffed unless you give us trouble, and there's no point in doing that because there's no way out of here for you and there's no where to hide. Believe me, we know the place from top to bottom and we know all the hiding places, which you don't. So don't try anything. The sooner you get used to your position, the better off you'll be. Understand?"

"Yes sir," I answered smartly. I was determined to be a "good boy" in hopes that it would be taken into consideration in my future, whatever that might be.

"OK. Keep your hands behind your head and come with us," Malloy said and started off down the catwalk.

I followed him and his partner followed me, I suppose to ensure that I didn't make a run for it. Walking with your hands behind your head isn't easy, especially on a mesh catwalk where you can see through it to the floor one story below. I had a little trouble navigating as a bit of vertigo came over me. I had to work to keep from losing my balance but I did manage. They took me down the stairs and out onto the floor of the cellblock where we joined two other groups of guards with their prisoners. Together we walked down the hall and into what appeared to be an examination room. The examination room contained five tables, each with a stainless steal surface and various brackets.

"Up on the table," my guard, Malloy ordered, tapping a metal table.

I climbed up and sat on the edge.

"Lie down on your back, hands over your head. Grab hold of the bar at the end," Officer Malloy said and, naturally, I obeyed.

I turned my head and saw the two other prisoners similarly obeying their guards' instructions. Obviously, these men had been taken in today. Malloy wheeled a tray over with several items on it. He picked up a cordless hair trimmer and switched it on before applying it to my chest. I let go of the bar and started to sit up.

"Hey, what're you doing?" I said sharply, forgetting where I was and why. Malloy pushed me down and slapped my face, though not as hard as he might have, I'm sure.

"Look boy! I told you: don't give us any trouble. You're here to be
processed. If we have to, we'll tie you down. It's up to you: you want to cooperate or you want to be difficult?"

The sinking feeling in my belly told me that I would be one to cooperate. I took another step down the road to slavery by surrendering my desire to protest. The Authority had me and I had no choice but to submit. I placed my hands back on the bar and sighed as Malloy began to shear the hair from my chest. As the clippers moved around my nipples, I shuddered and felt a
surging in my groin and my eyes filled with tears. The last vestige of my manhood was being stripped from me. One of the other prisoners wasn't so cooperative and tried to get off the table, yelling his protests as his guards held him down. He looked to be in
his mid to late twenties and strong. The language coming out of his mouth marked him as a laborer.

"Stay put!" Malloy said and he and his partner went to help their
colleagues.

While two of them held the prisoner down, my guards took their cuffs and ratcheted them down around the man's wrists and ankles before fastening them to the brackets on the table. The man continued to yell, yanking vainly against the cuffs in hopes of freeing himself. His guards took straps to his exposed body and began to whip him into submission, striking blow after blow, each of which made me wince in sympathy. Finally the prisoner's yells turned to cries and then weeping until he stopped resisting.

One of his guards took the man's wet face in his hand and spoke sharply to him, his face just inches from the prisoner's.

"You'd better learn one thing fast and well. We're in charge here and you will do what you're told. There is no way out of here for you! You belong to the Authority now. Do you understand boy?"

"Y-y-yes sir," the prisoner wept. His body was covered with bright red welts marking where he'd been struck.

The third prisoner in the group and I were silent. The object lesson was clear, unequivocal and not lost on us: obey or be severely punished. We would do as we were told.

Malloy had come back to my table to continue my denuding. The warmth and vibration of the shears made my cock lift off my belly and begin to throb. Malloy finished with my chest and moved down the love trail on my belly, stripping that away as well. Then he went to my underarms and trimmed the hair away from my pits. He brushed the shorn fur away with his hands and checked his work. His next destination was my groin. He pushed my stiff cock out of the way, chuckling as he began on my pubes. I'd always been fairly hairy so my cock looked like a pale pole in a sea of dense, dark fur. It took him a while to clean away all of the hair surrounding my dick and balls but finally he was finished. Then he lifted my ball sac and trimmed the wiry hair away from it and lastly, ran the trimmer up the shaft of my penis to clean it. Fortunately, he stayed away from the head or he would have had a mess to contend with. He switched the clippers off and replaced them on the tray. Then he picked up some other items before coming back.

Looking down at my prostrate form, he smiled.

"You don't look too bad for a guy in his forties. We don't often get
prisoners your age: more like that one over there," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the table where the beaten prisoner now lay, quietly weeping as his body was stripped. "I don't know what they have in mind for you but, judging from your response, you might be alright here." Saying this, he rubbed his fingers into the puddle of pre-cum that had been collecting below my navel and rubbed it around the aureoles of my nipples, sending a thrill down my spine and making me arch my back and groan as he pinched and twisted my tits. No man had ever touched me like this; no man had ever handled my penis like this; no man had ever twisted my nipples; no man had ever made me hard. He placed the flat of his hand on my hard dick,
pressing it against my belly and rolling it back and forth. I nearly came. I was mystified. What was going on here?

"Yes," he chuckled. "You may do very well indeed."

What was he talking about, I wondered?

Malloy's partner, whose nameplate said "Whitfield" took a can of shaving cream and filled his hand with gel, which he spread over my body. Malloy took a razor and shaved away any stubble that remained on my pits and chest, belly and groin. When he'd finished, Whitfield took a damp towel and wiped me down to remove any traces of the gel. The feel of the towel on my naked skin was strange and somehow erotic. I knew I wasn't bent; why did I respond this way to this humiliation?

Malloy ordered me to turn over and get on my hands and knees.

"Now, lower your head to the table so that you can reach back and spread your butt," he said.

With my forehead resting on the cold metal, I reached back with both hands and pulled my cheeks apart. Once again, I heard the clippers and he sheared the hair that covered my ass crack, anal lips and perineum. He brushed the hair away and again applied gel, shaving me smooth and wiping me off with the towel. It was demeaning to have a man wiping my ass. Only doctors had touched me like that before and I tended not to go to the doctor's because I found the anal exam embarrassing. But here I was, kneeling on a table with a prison guard wiping my butt after shaving me.

At the other tables, my fellow prisoners were at similar stages of
processing. The one who'd caused such a ruckus was still weeping in
humiliation. His guard was getting impatient with him. He pulled up a stool, pulled the prisoner off the table and turned him over his lap. Then he proceeded to give him a vigorous spanking with his open hand. Soon the burly prisoner was bawling like a kid, begging the guard to stop, swearing that he'd be a good boy.

"Please, please, please sir," he cried. "Please don't paddle me anymore. I'll be good; I promise. I can be good!"

The guard paused, his hand held above the man's flaming butt.

"Stop your whining?" he demanded.

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir," the prisoner sniffed.

"Alright," the guard said. "I hope you've learned you lesson!" and pushed the prisoner off his lap onto the floor.

Apparently his treatment had awakened something inside the prisoner because
he pulled himself onto all fours and crawled to the guard's feet. There, he bent down and began washing his guard's boots with his tongue. The guard was obviously enjoying this as the tent in his trousers clearly attested.

Malloy ordered me to get off the table and go to the seatless toilet nearby.

"Face the toilet and bend over," he ordered. "Put your hands on the rim and wait."

"Yes Sir," I answered and did as I was told. It amazed me that I had become so compliant. I suppose your brain can override and urge to fight when you realize that fighting is futile. Just do what you're told, I kept telling myself. Maybe that'll make it easier. I looked around and saw the guards wheel an upright stand over that had a bulging rubber bag hanging from it. The bag had a tube coming out the end. I began to shake and turned my head back toward the wall. Bent at the waist, resting my hands on the rim, I felt a cold finger at the opening of my anus and then inside. I gave a gasp and a cry and tried to push it out.

"Relax boy," Malloy said, slapping my butt hard. "This is going to happen one way or the other. It'll be easier if you relax and let us do our job."

"Yes sir," I grunted, as the finger wriggled inside me.

The finger was removed and almost immediately replaced with another long, thin object: the nozzle on the end of the tubing. Then the water began to fill my gut. Malloy stood beside me, squeezing the enema bag and rubbing my belly as it filled with warm liquid. I turned my head to the side and found myself looking right into the face of my fellow prisoner on the right. Hehad a look of shock and shame on his face and there were tears in his eyes. Both of us looked back down, unwilling to witness one another's degradation.

"That's a good boy," Malloy cooed, massaging my abdomen.

I began to feel a little dizzy and leaned against his hard thigh, seekinghis warmth and the reinforcement of his strength. As the cramps began, I whimpered and raised my head to look back over my shoulder at him. All I wanted was a little comforting and he seemed to understand.

"That's my boy. You're doing fine. It won't be too much longer," he said, smiling and rubbing my distended belly.

The bag must have been empty; certainly, I wanted it to be empty. My guts felt like they were going to eject themselves out my ass.

"P-p-please sir," I whimpered. "Please let me go. Please!" I was close to crying. Here I was: I'd just lost my body hair, bent over a toilet with a tube up my ass, my belly filled with fluid and a guard handling me in a deeply intimate way. I was close to losing it.

"Hold on boy," he said, stroking my butt and back. "Just a few more
seconds."

The seconds stretched on through repeated cramps. Finally, he pulled the tube out of my rectum.

"Keep those muscles clenched," he warned. "Don't lose any!"

He helped me turn around and lowered me toward the cold porcelain rim of the bowl.

"OK, you can let it go," he said.

Before my legs hit the rim, my sphincters had released and my abdominals began spasming to expel the liquid. I moaned and shook as powerful spurts of dirty water spewed out of my ass, accompanied by the sounds and smells of wet farting and my deep groans that originated with each contraction of my belly. The noise and odor increased as each prisoner in his own turn was permitted to relieve himself.

Finally, it was over. Malloy pulled me to my feet and examined the water in the bowl, squinching up his nose at the odor.

"Another," was all he said and I groaned, knowing that we would do this until the water was clean. He flushed the toilet, turned me around and pushed me down onto the rim once more. Whitfield took the bag and filled it again. Once more, there was the finger lubing my anus and the hated nozzle invading my most private orifice. The cramping wasn't quite as bad this time and when Malloy finally
permitted me to relieve myself, the water seemed reasonably clean. I looked up at him hopefully. Would that be enough? He pulled me to my feet and examined the bowl.

"Good," he said, satisfied. "That's fine. Alright, bend again and grab your ankles."

I did so, not know what to expect this time but hoping it wouldn't be too degrading. Malloy took some paper from a roll and wiped my ass dry with it. Once again, I flushed from the shame of it. Everything they did to me reminded me that I was without status. I refused to raise my head to avoid the chance of seeing one of the others being treated in the same humiliating way.

When he was finished wiping me, Malloy took a dollop of lube and pushed it into my rectum and then slapped my ass again.

"OK boy, c'mon. We've finished what we have to do. Time to see the
administrator."

They marched me down several halls and up a flight of stairs, stopping in front of an office door. Knocking on the door, we then stood and waited. "Come in," someone called from inside.

"Sir, this is unit 082012-035," Malloy said, escorting me through the door.

Behind a large desk sat a man younger than I, I'd guess. He seemed to be in his mid-thirties or a young early forties. He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He motioned for me to come and stand in front of his desk as he opened a document on his Digital Assistant. Malloy moved beside him and whispered into his ear as the Administrator nodded and smiled, looking up at me.

"So, 082012-035, welcome to the Processing Center," he began, giving me a thin smile as the two guards left, closing the door behind them. I had turned to watch them go because I felt connected in some way with them, especially Malloy. I guess it's natural to develop an attachment to someone who has taken care of you as though you were a child. The administrator cleared his throat, reminding me that he was now the focus of my attention.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir," I answered hastily, hoping to appear cooperative.

"You're here because you disobeyed the Tax laws and tried to siphon off money that was designated for the support of your family," he went on, reading from the file. "Not a very good idea, but then, most of the men here tried something that wasn't a very good idea. Oh well, that's what keeps us in business, isn't it? Your own stupidity? Am I right 035?"

"Yes sir," I answered, hanging my head. Of course he was right. I don't know why I'd ever thought I could outsmart the Authority.

"Yes indeed. We took three of you into care today. I suppose it'll never stop."

He paused, looking into space, shaking his head slowly. Then his focusreturned to me.

"So, we've taken you into our care and will have to assume your family responsibilities for you. An expensive proposition," he said, smiling wryly. "But then, somebody's got to do it. Right? Can't have your children on welfare can we?"

"Yes sir. I mean no sir," I mumbled, feeling more and more ashamed of
myself.

"What the Authority sometimes does in cases like yours is try to make the best of a poor situation. Seems reasonable doesn't it 035?"

"Yes sir, it does," I said, becoming very anxious about where this might be headed.

"So what we will do, if it makes sense, is try to recover some of our costs. Doesn't that make sense?"

"Yes sir," I answered. Perhaps they'd send me back to work and garnishee my wages? I began to feel hopeful. "Will you put me to work sir," I asked,
thinking of the units I'd seen coming back from their day at the office.

"Indeed we will 035, indeed we will. You're a little old for it, but I'm sure we can find a good fit for someone with your talents. I understand that you are a fast learner and have fine responses so I'm sure we'll find a slot for you," he said with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

"Release!" he said, pushing back his chair.

The command startled me because I hadn't the vaguest idea what he was
saying. Then he rose and I saw his large dick was hanging out of his pants, slick and shiny with what I assumed was saliva. My hope evaporated and onceagain, I began to tremble.

He moved around the desk, saying, "Assume the position 035."

It took me a moment to remember but I quickly laced my trembling fingers behind my head and spread my shaking legs. He ran his hands over my smooth body, pausing to twist my nipples and grab my pecs. He shook the muscles of my chest, looking into my face for my response. As he moved around me, I felt his wet dick brushing against my legs and butt. How long before it was in my butt, I didn't know. My eyes were cast down in shame so I could see
his heavy, erect penis straining against gravity and surging toward my body, almost as though it knew that it would soon find a temporary haven there. When he grabbed hold of my nipples and squeezed, my knees nearly buckled and I had to catch myself to keep from collapsing.

"As I was saying, the result of your offenses, 035," the Administrator said, talking to me as if he were addressing a subordinate who wasn't performing up to par, all the while examining my body with his eyes and his hands, "is that you've been remanded to the Authority's custody permanently. You will be re-educated and trained for skills compliance. You will be trained to serve and when we feel you're competent to go on work release, we will sub-let you to a client to help cover the costs of supporting your children. In fact, we already have a client who's interested in your option, which
is quite amazing, don't you think, 035?"

"Yes sir," I responded automatically, not at all sure of what he was telling me. But something was niggling at the back of my mind. How would anyone, other than those in my company, know I'd been taken in by the LEA?

"It's a process that involves several steps and can take as much as a couple of months, but given your aptitude, you may `graduate' sooner than that. It all depends on how diligently you apply your natural talents and learn new skills," he continued, squeezing my buns and pulling my ass cheeks apart. "Bend over 035 and grab your ankles."

I swallowed hard, took a deep breath and bent double, taking hold of my ankles.

"Good," the Administrator said. "Now, stay in that position but reach back and part your buttocks," and I did as he ordered.

"Yes, Malloy was right; I can see that. You'll do well here, 035," he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. Somehow, that made me feel good. If he was pleased, my life might be easier so I was determined to please
him.

I felt his first finger tickling my puckered lips and insinuating itself between them, slowly moving in until it encountered my sphincter. He paused, wiggling his finger around, stimulating the ring of muscle and coaxing it to relax and open. I breathed deeply and felt the finger break through the barrier.

"Good boy," he said. "That's a very good boy."

Although I'd never much liked experiencing digital exams, his words of praise filled me with warmth and a greater desire to make him happy. He pulled his finger out and I whimpered a little, feeling his absence. But the emptiness was only momentary, for in seconds, he inserted two fingers into my chute. I moaned in the depths of my throat as my ass was stretched beyond any previous experience. He wriggled his fingers around, moving them apart from one another to further stretch my inexperienced hole. It was like a fire in my ass but it was strangely satisfying. It told me that he was taking possession of me and I'd never have to be concerned about my future or my family again. It wasn't my dream but it did contain the sense
of freedom and security of my dream. All I was being asked to do was to please him and I was confident I could do that.

"Please sir," I whispered, not even caring that I was speaking out of turn. "Please take me. Please take me over," I said, voicing my inmost yearnings.

"That's my good boy. Now you've accepted your position and I will take you boy," he said soothingly.

In a few moments, I felt the warmth of his hard penis pressing against my hole. Oh, how I wanted it. I wanted to be filled by the Authority and released from all my responsibilities and obligations. My sphincters clutched and pulled at the tool that sought to possess them. I groaned and gasped for breath as my body was opened to the Authority's agent of reconciliation. All my past sins were wiped away. I was reborn, fresh and new. I was Labor Enforcement Authority unit 082012-035 and I was born to serve; I was born to be fucked. I was born to be fucked by the Authority!

"Fuck me! Fuck me please!" I cried and felt his sword pierce my heart.