Helping My Brother

By Randall Austin

Published on Feb 7, 2012

Gay

Helping My Brother

Part One

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin's Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

(Notes from the journal of Craig Soffel)

I'll never forget the day my brother Marty, age 20, was brought home after he was sentenced to a four-year term of in-family indenturement. It was pretty freaky for me, to say the least. I can't imagine what it must have been like for Marty.

On Tuesday, August 21, 2011, my brother was delivered to our house by two officers from the Clackamas County Social Services training and processing facility. He had been sentenced to four years of in-family indenturement two weeks earlier, and then immediately remanded to the training facility for two weeks of intensive training and processing. While he was getting trained to be a behaving servant, dad and I each attended classes in servant handling.

The officers were just there to deliver Marty to us, but they did want to demonstrate, for dad and me, some important information about the proper method of tethering a servant by either his nose and/or penis rings. So one of the first things the officers did when they brought Marty in was to make him strip. I was surprised by the request, and even more surprised at the way Marty hopped to it and instantly stripped out of the dorky looking servant jumpsuit he was wearing right in front of dad and me.

It wasn't the Marty I knew; not only because of the weird things they had done to him, but also because he was, for the first time doing exactly what he was told to do.

When he finally had his jumpsuit off, Marty was quite a sight! I could hardly recognize him.

All freshly processed slaves in Oregon are `hawked', banded, ringed, collared, and chipped, and Marty was no exception. He was quite a sight standing there. They had him mohawked, and social services told us we should keep his hair that way. They had an inch and a half wide band above his balls; separating his balls from his cock and making them hang low. They had him fixed up with a large gauge ring through both the septum of his nose and the head of his cock. Man, they looked painful! His pubic and armpit hair was shaved. And there was a bandage on his upper left buttock where they had injected his tracking chip.

So there was my older brother standing there in our living room in front of dad and me: naked, bald-pussied, mohawked, collared, and ringed in the nose and dick just like some draft animal, and he started crying like a baby.

One of the guards pulled a small training whip out of his service belt, and Marty immediately shut up with his embarrassing crying. He was sniffling like a three-year old, and when the other guard told him not to embarrass himself in front of his father and his younger brother, he immediately stood tall and tried to look brave.

Once he was standing naked, tall, and proud, the officers explained to us that tethering was an important part of slave control, but that a slave was never to be tethered into an uncomfortable position by a body piercing. In other words, it's okay to tie a slave up by his hands and make him stand on the tips of his toes as a punishment tethering; but never do that by a body piercing, or you risk the slave exhausting himself and severely injuring himself.

Dad and I both already knew that, of course, from our handling classes, but Oregon is just so enlightened regarding the treatment of servants that they go to extra lengths to ensure their safe treatment.

It was really awkward; Marty couldn't look at either Dad or me in the face, standing there all `hawked, shaved, banded, and ringed.

The officers stayed and chatted with us for about 15 minutes, but before they left they both went up to Marty, whom they had made stand at attention with his hands behind his head, and told him to be `good boy' (I couldn't believe it) and to make his father and me proud of him.

Next: Chapter 2


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