Executive slave 2

Author: plugged
Title: Executive slave 2
Date: 01 February 2006

Executive Slave -- Chapter 2

Sprawled there across my desk, the officer's hand on my belt, I knew my life was over. Oh, I don't mean I'd be executed: my offense wasn't worthy of an execution. No, I was about to disappear into the machine of the Labor Enforcement Authority; my identity and selfhood was evaporating just like a pool of water in a desert.

"You are no longer Cliffort Swainton. I have the obligation to inform you that you are now a unit under the authority of the Labor Enforcement Authority. Your identifying number is 082012-035. You'll recognize the first digits as your birth date. The last three are your serial number. Remember it: that's what you'll answer to from now on. Either that or `boy'. Do you understand 082012-035?"

"I understand," I whispered, hardly able to believe what was happening to me.

He slapped me across the face with the back of his hand.

"The correct form is `Yes sir!' or `No sir!' when you're asked a question. Do you understand boy?"

"Yes sir!" I answered quickly, cringing in fear that he might strike me again.

"Good!" he said and then looked up at his partner. "Let's get started."

With that, he unbuckled my belt and pulled it off me. While he unhooked and unzipped my trousers, his partner knelt and slipped off my shoes and socks. The officer at my feet stood and lifted my feet while the second officer pulled my pants and shorts off me, exposing me. I flushed a deep scarlet because from where I lay, I could look over my head and see my colleagues and staff staring at my body, exposed for their view through the open door of my office. My subordinates, whom I'd just ordered to a meeting were congregating outside my office and had a clear view of my degradation.

"The LEA has learned that taking a unit into custody in public helps to reinforce their authority," one of the officers mentioned as he threw my pants into the wastebasket. How courteous of him to give me an explanation! "Stand up!" he ordered, pulling me to my feet, using my penis as a handle.

That enhanced my humiliation and my color. I'd never had a man touch my penis. Even doctor's used remote tools for examining men's privates in the modern world, and I certainly wasn't a "bent". Earlier in the century, homosexuals had taken to using the term "bent" to refer to themselves and everyone else followed suit. But I'd never been with a man and never had the desire. Yet here was this officer handling my genitals as casually as he'd take a dog's leash.

As I stood there, vainly trying to cover my swinging genitals, the first officer undid my tie and took it off over my head. He looked at it and then looked at me and smirked. He looped the tie around my cock and balls and tight ened it, making my organs stand out from my body. My cock was, for some reason, reacting to the humiliation and was becoming erect. I didn't understand it and I was filled with shame: shame to be treated this way in front of others, especially people who'd been my subordinates, and was humiliated that I was being stripped in public. Lastly, I was horrified and ashamed that my dick was hardening and rising in response to my degradation. I wished I could have crawled under my desk. Perhaps if I'd known what my future was to be, I might not have wished for that.

After he'd removed my tie and bound me with it, the officer grabbed the top of my shirt and ripped it open, sending buttons flying. He pushed the torn shirt off of my shoulders so that it hung from my cuffed wrists. Then he ripped my undershirt down the middle and pushed it down. I was so embarrassed I began to cry. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I hung my head, causing the tears to fall from my eyes onto my hard cock from which they dribbled onto the floor.

The officers took me, one holding my cuffed wrists, the other pulling me by my tie, and led me to the door of what had been my office. There we stopped and the first officer spoke after stepping aside so that everyone had a clear view of the naked prisoner.

"Citizens, listen up! The LEA is taking custody of this unit because of his dishonesty and family support evasion. Take note and beware. You know your responsibilities as citizens of the Society. This is the penalty for those who would seek to evade their responsibilities!" he called out as heads turned to stare directly at my shamed, exposed body.

We paused for several moments, I suppose to let the affect sink in, and they led me from the office. I prayed they'd take me downstairs in a service elevator but that would have lessened the impact, both on me and on my former co-workers. No, they summoned a regular lift and took me down in full view of anyone who happened to be walking around the building. We went through the crowded lobby as people parted before us and pointed at me, whispering to one another. As we walked across the open floor, one woman spat out "pig!" and stared at me in disgust.

They led me out of the building, took me to a car marked with the insignia of the Labor Enforcement Authority that was parked at the curb and opening the door, pushed me into the back seat. They put a seat belt around my waist and one of the officers had to push my cock down to get the belt around it.

"I have an idea you're going to be right at home inside the Authority!" he said, smirking and rubbing the nail of his thumb across the helmet of my penis, making me shiver in spite of the heat in the car.

The officers buckled a collar around my neck and attached it to a hook in the window ledge, forcing me into an upright position. Certainly, I would like to have been able to lean forward and hide myself but the collar made that impossible. The car windows were not tinted so as they drove me to what they called "The Processing Center", pedestrians, cycle riders and drivers could all see me riding in my back seat cage, naked as the day I was born. To attract even more attention, adding to my humiliation, they turned on the flashers on the roof of the car.

They drove up to the front of the Center and stopped the car. After
unhooking my collar and unfastening my seat belt, they pulled me from the car. Again, I was led across the busy sidewalk as people stopped and stared and through the front doors. The doors opened automatically, absorbing me into the machine of the Authority and when they closed behind me, my life effectively ended.

The officers took me to a high desk, behind which sat another uniformed officer. They handed him the papers. Swatting my bare behind, one of themsaid:

"Remember boy: `Yes sir,' and `no sir'"

Then they walked away. The officer behind the desk read through the
information on the papers.

"Unit 082012-035?" he asked me, glancing down at me over the top of the papers.

"That's right," I muttered and then caught myself. "I mean Yes sir."

"Good. You learn fast. That'll be a big help to you in the future." Then he began reading aloud in a flat voice from a card that had been lying on his desk, although it was apparent he knew the text from memory.

"Unit 082012-035, you have, under the laws of the State, been in violation of Code 1350.07, Article 8 of the Tax Code. In doing so, you have forfeited you privileges as a citizen. Under the orders of the Authority, you have been stripped of your rights as a member of Society. You are hereby remanded to the custody of the Labor Enforcement Authority for the remainder of your life to serve the Society's lawful requirements. Take him down!"

Two officers standing behind me took my cuffed arms and dragged me through a barred gate that clanged behind us. We went down a hallway and through another gate, which slid open to permit us to pass and then slid back into place once we were through. The officers walked close to me, the fabric from their shirts and trousers brushing against my naked body as a constant reminder that I was unclothed. We entered a large open room with several ranks of open cells on all four walls. Many of these cells held units like me. All were naked; some paced, others just lay on pads on the floor, awaiting what I didn't know. The guards led me up a stairway and onto the
landing in front of the second rank of cells. I could see an empty cell down the walkway directly in front of us and, indeed, that's where the guards directed me. They pushed me into the cell and with a remote control, caused the door to slide closed and lock.

"Someone will be back to continue your processing," one of them said and they walked back down the walkway and out of the cellblock. I stood leaning against the bars, trying to comprehend what had just happened to me when I heard a shout from across the block.

"Hey sweet thing!"

I looked around, trying to discern who was shouting. Then I saw a large man cross the room, leaning against the bars.

"Hey sweet thing!"

"What? Who me?" I said, suddenly afraid.

"Yeah, you. You've just been taken in haven't you?"

"Uh, yeah," I answered, unsure whether or not I really wanted to talk to this guy. He looked to be about six three and must have weighed about 220 pounds, every bit of it muscle. He might have been a professional athlete. Before he was "taken in", I reminded myself.

"Yeah, I can tell," he smirked. "That's why your dick is poking through the bars like that!"

I must have gone scarlet as I looked down and realized that my dick was indeed sticking through the bars and standing at attention. I'd been so hard the last hour or so that my foreskin had rolled back from the head of my penis and my plum was completely exposed. I pulled back and went to sit on the mat that was apparently my only "furniture" as the big man laughed, joined by others around the cell block.

"Don't worry sweet thing," he chuckled. "We'll take care of that soon enough. We'll help you get over your modesty."

He gave me a wicked grin, turned around and went back to sit on his own mat. In case you've never tried it, sitting down on the floor while your hands are cuffed behind you is difficult at best. I attempted it a couple of times and then decided that kneeling was the safest method. Once on my knees, I could turn and flop down. Unfortunately, what I'd failed to realize was that I would be sitting on my braceletted wrists, which is rather painful. I shifted my body around, hoping to find a reasonably comfortable position and finally ended up lying on my belly on the mat. Oh well; I was exhausted anyway and soon, I dozed off.

I was awakened by the sound of the gate into the cellblock opening. Looking up at the skylight, I judged it to be late afternoon or early evening. I struggled to my feet and tried to move my arms some to restore the circulation. My hands felt like pins and needles, alternating with the pain in my shoulders of having my arms pinned behind my back as well as the pain of the cuffs digging into my flesh. Below, a line of men dressed in slacks, shirts and ties walked through the gate into the cellblock before the gate shut behind them. Then I noticed that they were all dressed alike: black
trousers and shoes, white shirt and black and white striped ties. The line halted part way across the floor and waited. A guard who'd been following the line moved forward to stand beside the line.

"Right face!" he barked and, as one, the men turned to face him.

"Strip off!" he ordered and each man began to remove his shoes and socks.

Now I thought I understood: these were units who worked in offices around the City. Their shift had ended and they were returning to their "home" to spend the night. As I watched them removing their pants, ties and shirts, I felt the sharpness of the humiliation. Even the clothes on their backs weren't their own. Another guard walked down the line with laundry bags, collecting the clothing. I also noticed that none of the units had underwear on. I thought that curious but the implications of that didn't enter my mind. I'd discover that later, to my embarrassment and chagrin.

Soon, the entire line was standing at attention, completely naked. There was a variety of men there. Tall, short, thin, husky, furred, smooth, African, Latino, white, Asian. I noticed that all were relatively trim: at least I didn't notice that any were obese. Then again, the Authorityfrowned on obesity and those who had trouble controlling their weight could be subjected to enforced diets until they slimmed down. Those laws had been passed in the second decade of the century when the number of chronically obese reached epidemic levels. But these men were all well-muscled. Some were really built but even those whose bodies didn't bulk up had hard muscled arms, legs and torsos. I gathered that training workouts as well as
a restricted diet would be a regular part of a unit's regime here at the Center.

"Inspection!" the guard called as several guards moved toward the line.

Each man spread his feet, raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. The guards then moved down the line, two guards to a man. The one in front pulled the prisoner's mouth open and thrust his hand inside, apparently feeling for any hidden objects and making some of the men gag and choke. Then he inspected the front of the man's body, tweaking his nipples and pulling on the hair in his pits. The guard lifted the man's cock and balls and those that were uncut he ordered to skin back their foreskins so that he could check there as well. Most men were uncut these days since
circumcision had become thought of as a somewhat medieval practice. Usually the only men who were cut were Jews and Muslims. The guard in back ran his hands over the prisoner's body, feeling it up and down. When the guard in front had finished his oral inspection, he pulled the prisoner forward, bending him at the waist and the "rear guard" pulled his ass cheeks apart and slid his hand up and down the ass crack presented to him. Then he knelt and spreading the prisoner's cheeks as wide as possible, examined his hole. I could see that he also pushed a couple of fingers into the man's anus,
making each of them grunt as he was penetrated. When he was finished, the guard walked around in front of the prisoner and ordered him to clean the muck off his hand, licking it clean.

Suddenly, there was a commotion down the line. One of the guards,
inspecting a prisoner's mouth was yelling.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled at the man whose jaws were stretched wide around his hand. The prisoner looked to be in his mid-thirties, medium height and build with a mat of dark hair on his chest. The guard was apparently holding onto the prisoner's tongue because the naked man tried to respond but couldn't do anything but yell incoherently. "Did you think you'd get away with this? Do you think we're stupid?" the guard yelled, shaking his hand up and down, carrying the poor prisoner's head with it. The man made guttural pleas that rose and fell in pitch as the guard shook his head. The guard was furious and pulled the man out of line, still holding his tongue.

"We could have that ripped out if we like. You want that? You want to lose your tongue? Are you an idiot?" he yelled, jerking the crying man around and finally throwing him to the floor. Fortunately, he let go of the wretch's tongue or it might have been ripped out. The prisoner writhed on the floor moaning and weeping.

The other guards just stood there, watching this brutality and did nothing. The lesson was obvious: don't try anything or you'll pay for it.

"Get back in line," the guard yelled, kicking the man who tried to rise. He half walked, half crawled back to his place and, with great effort, stoodand resumed his position.

"Two days in stocks!" the guard shouted and the prisoner began to weep.

"Please Sir, p-p-please don't," he blubbered. "Please Sir. I'll give you whatever you want. Please!" he pleaded pitifully.

"This isn't a barter!" the guard said. "You'll give me what I want anyway. Two days and if I hear any more, it'll be two more days!"

The prisoner worked to control himself and stifled his cries. I wondered what the stocks were that they were so upsetting. I can say I hoped I neverfound out.

When the guards had finished inspecting the men, they were ordered to their cells. They marched off, each in the direction of his cell, and, once they were all behind bars again, the doors slid closed, creating a cacophony of clanging throughout the cellblock. It was then I noticed that some prisoners were housed two to a cell. I wondered why some were doubled-up but figured it was just the way it was.