Chapter 1

I had been impressed with him from the first moment he joined the store as an apprentice butcher. He would have been around seventeen or eighteen years old at the time and while he wasn’t handsome in the sense of a matinee idol, he had a fresh face, excellent skin and already possessed a slim and very nicely athletic body.

I made no moves on him of course, but I took every opportunity to observe him as I moved through the store making my purchases. I did of course greet him as I did most of the other employees there but while they responded with a grin and a friendly comment, he was always strictly formal and never ever smiled. I therefore kept my distance but in my dreams at night he was my personal body slave with all the implications of that term.

I was a late addition to my parents’ family. They had apparently been trying all through their marriage to have children but unsuccessfully, until quite late in their lives together, I was conceived. Mother was then thirty-five years old and Dad, ten years older.

Dad was a very successful insurance broker in Darwin in the Northern Territory of Australia, while Mother had her own local medical practice but neither of them splurged their income being very interested in the stock market and investments generally. The net result of this was that by the time I was born, they had amassed a small fortune of some fifteen million dollars and that continued to grow during my childhood and as the conversation over the breakfast and dining tables was most often about this company or that investment I too became interested and therefore studied commerce and economics at university, later joining Dad in his study as he mulled over the buying and selling of shares or whatever.

After I graduated, he appointed me as his PA and gave me a small salary to stay at home and research the market while he went about his brokerage duties.

We were a very happy family and the tragedy that occurred about a year after I graduated really knocked me for six. We had been dining out at our favourite restaurant and they had ordered prawns while I had opted for a steak. Unfortunately the prawns were badly tainted and the pair of them fell ill that night and despite all the best efforts of the ambulance team they both died on their way to hospital.

As I said, it knocked me for a six to the extent that after the funeral and taking over their estates, I decided to leave the Northern Territory and settle on the Gold Coast of Queensland to start a new life.

I now had an estate of some twenty-five million dollars but adhering to their dicta, I merely bought your normal three-bedroom, two car garage house at Runaway Bay and spent my days studying the stock market, reading the Australian Financial Review from cover to cover and otherwise engaging in the business of managing what to me was a huge estate.

Before moving back to the subject of Damian Turner and how he came to be my slave, I should expound a bit on my own sexuality. I knew from a very early age that I was different from my peers. In the usual schoolboy discussions about sex they were always talking about the naked bodies of some of our female schoolmates (or what they thought they would be like) and particularly their ‘hairy cunts’. I found these discussions highly distasteful; not that I wasn’t interested in the bodies of the girls but rather I didn’t want to think about their genital organs. And it was the same with my male companions: I was definitely interested in their bodies if they were athletic and good-looking, but their cocks and balls had no interest for me at all.

I knew I was different and I was very careful not to show interest in their bodies and of course tried to partake in the discussions mentioned above. I also dated girls and the although I kissed them, derived no pleasure, sexual or otherwise, from the experience. If they encouraged me, I would fondle their boobs but on the few occasions they invited me to have real sex with them, I pleaded that my ethics precluded that level of sexual activity before marriage. I know they thought I was odd but I also had the distinct feeling that they admired my (so-called) integrity and I don’t think it made them think any the less of me.

But I was a good student and also did very well at sports and as I was friendly with everybody and very willing to help those less well gifted than myself either with their schoolwork or on the sports fields, I managed to retain their friendship and I think, respect.

But privately, when engaging in the usual masturbatory exercises of all teenage boys, I imagined the better looking of both sexes of my friends, being stripped naked and fingered by men and women interested in purchasing their bodies.

Slavery had been reintroduced around the world as a response to an out-of-control crime wave including religious terrorism, wanton homicide and rape and street crime gone mad. Penal incarceration was finally recognised as totally useless in correcting the ills of the criminal classes and all prisons were finally shut down and replaced with penal slavery.

Each capital city and large regional centres was provided with what became known as State Slave Centres which became the recipients from the outputs of the courts, processed all slaves received and sold them at weekly auctions each Saturday morning.

The law creating this institution provided that slaves were to be kept naked (and nude, which means that all body and facial hair was permanently removed) and were to be worked at hard labour for at least fifteen hours every day, seven days a week. It was declared that the state of the world was such that such draconian measures were absolutely necessary to get the message across to criminals that their actions would no longer be tolerated.

And given this state of affairs, it wasn’t difficult for me to imagine those of my school mates who had offended me or otherwise interested me as sexual subjects, as my personal slaves to be used and abused according to the dictates of my imagination.

Strangely however, I didn’t purchase a slave even after I moved to Queensland. My parents had not liked the institution and we had always done for ourselves in our family home. I suppose that may have been the reason it didn’t occur to me to actually purchase a slave to look after my house once I moved to Queensland.

And so for the next three or four years I simply continued on, looking after myself, my house and garden and spending most of my time researching the market and buying and selling shares according to the results of my investigations.

During that time I watched Damian pass through his apprenticeship and grow into an even more athletic-looking young man. And still he figured as the principal actor in my night-time dreams and reveries. Occasionally, very occasionally I would speak to him asking about a particular product but he always answered formally and never with a smile. I had watched him in his relationships with his fellow workers and had ached as I saw him with a wonderfully happy smile as he talked to them.

And still, as I approached my late twenties, I made no moves to interact with girls, or for that matter, other males. My own right hand was my only gratification for my sexual needs and this to pictures of muscular young men and handsome, athletic women being stripped and then tortured or punished with the whip, cane or some other instrument of correction. Note that I didn’t say beautiful women. I would far rather look at a homely female as long as her body was athletic, her muscles apparent if not overdone, and her skin as smooth as silk.

But then an event occurred which changed everything and yes, it had to do with Damian. I had discovered by carefully investigating him through his colleagues (and any other means open to me), that he was fanatical about his body and spent many hours in the gym each week and by this I mean a gym devoted to gymnastics rather than simple weightlifting or the like. And when I discovered that, I now realised how he had acquired his so perfect body. Of course I had never seen very much of it; only on the rare occasions when he came in on a Sunday when he wasn’t actually working, and was dressed in light casual clothes, was I even able to see his upper arms and the outline of his upper body and thighs but that was enough to indicate to me the perfection of his whole physique.

And as he was so dedicated to its perfection, he never indulged in alcohol or, God forbid, smoking. But apparently, he attended a party of his colleagues and was there plied with alcohol and drugs and then drove home, encouraged by them to do so. Tragically he struck and killed an elderly pedestrian and was charged, convicted and sentenced to slavery for life for his crime.

When I saw this on TV and read the account in the newspaper I was galvanised into action. I had now built my inheritance into a portfolio worth just over thirty million dollars and as slaves, even the best of them such as he would be, were selling for around two hundred thousand dollars, I was well prepared to pay to acquire him, virtually at any cost.

It will be recognised that the selling of naked slaves every Saturday morning at each of the various state slave centres around the country would draw thousands and thousands of gawkers. And so the authorities required legitimate purchasers to register their interest prior to being admitted to the large sales hall in each centre. Upon entry we were issued with a bidding unit registered to our names and the bank accounts we would use to pay for our purchases.

Over the years since slavery had been reintroduced as a legitimate punishment for serious crimes, the handling and sale of the slaves had been refined to the point where it was real theatre which of course added to the value of the slaves being sold. For example, while the sales halls had originally been rather basic in their seating and other accoutrements, and the presentation of slaves simply a line of them coming in and as each one was to be sold, stepped up onto the block when the auctioneer proceeded to sell him as he would an item of furniture.

These days however, the décor in the rooms had been improved out of sight and the seating had now been arranged in steps rather like the lecture room in a large university. The slaves entered onto a shallow stage at the front of the room and did so with their hands up behind their heads, their elbows pulled right back so as to show off their bodies to the best advantage.

The lead slave was now directed up onto the block and the auctioneer called for bids on his body. This was done by means of the bidding unit mentioned above which was rather like an iPhone complete with screen and appropriate buttons. The screen displayed first the body of the slave to be auctioned and then the current bid. If you wished to add a further bid you simply pressed the bid button which increased the amount offered in the steps already declared by the auctioneer. If you wished to bid more than the current rate you inserted the desired amount immediately following the bid button.

I duly registered my interest including the bank account I would be using to pay for any purchases, ensuring that it was topped up to half a million dollars for the occasion.

I took my seat and looked with interest around me noting the enormous range of people who were my fellow registered bidders. One might think they would all be prosperous-looking businessmen or women. Not a bit of it. They ranged from what looked like yokels to true aristocrats (and don’t ask me what an aristocrat looks like).

They started with the females because these were the most expensive slaves on offer and of course were graded as to the expected price they might bring. I smiled as I realised that the people doing the grading there were of the opinion that a voluptuous, well-rounded and buxom young woman would be more appealing than an athletic type. If I had been buying a female on this occasion, I would have been well pleased with that because the athletic types which appealed to me were much further down the list and would bring much lesser prices.

I decided then and there that in the future I would definitely come back and buy one of these delectable creatures because as I have said, I know myself to be bisexual in desire, even if lacking in any interest in the sexual organs of males or females, or for that matter, engaging in sexual intercourse with either sex.

But right then I was infatuated with Damian and wanted to acquire him to experiment in my sexual education. As a slave, I would have no need to worry about his feelings or that he would refuse anything I might demand of him.

It had been intended from the very beginning of criminal slavery in this Twenty-First Century that a slave could be used for anything his owner might desire. The law had made it very clear that at the moment of sentence he or she lost their citizenship and with it all protection under the law except for the provisions of The Criminal Slavery Act which provided that while acts resulting in the death of the slave were illegal, almost anything else was acceptable and while it didn’t specifically say so, that very definitely included sexual acts of any kind. Thus if a heterosexual male was bought by a gay man, he could be used by that man in any sexual act at all – bar none.

But to get back to the slaves on offer that day, I sat there in the comfortable seat eyeing off the parade of mostly young and handsome females all displaying their delectable bodies (remember their hands were up behind their heads, raising their boobs delightfully) to us all. These first few were certainly good lookers and brought prices up to around $200-$250,000 but then the quality dropped and I lost interest in their bodies as the older and less attractive females were sold. Some of these brought less than twenty thousand dollars and so I now waited rather impatiently for the males to take their place.

Damian was not the first and in fact he wasn’t even in the first ten male slaves to be sold. The best were real hunks: handsome, youthful, very well muscled and mostly with rather large genital organs. I grinned to myself as I wondered how many of them were gay (probably very few) and then observed the men who were buying them. If they weren’t all gay themselves I would be very surprised. Oh, there were a couple of women who were the successful bidders in some cases but I suspect the rest were destined to grace the beds of the men who had bought them.

And then it was Damian’s turn. I must say I had often wondered about his sexuality. I had a feeling deep down, that he might have been gay or at least bisexual, just from his demeanour and carriage. But I might well have been wrong. Anyway, it didn’t really matter one whit which way he was orientated as if I was successful in buying him he was bound by law to obey me in this as in everything else and I would have no compunction whatsoever in using him to experiment with my own sexuality, just as I would with any females I might purchase later.

As I watched him mount the block, I could feel my heart pumping hard. To me he was the most perfect of all the males that had been auctioned thus far. You could keep your so handsome, matinee-idol muscle-boy types. What he epitomised to me was the athletic keenness of his body but even more his humility or perhaps humbleness might be a better term.

In using this term, I believe that the kind of humility I’m talking about is that of a man who puts other people before himself rather than one who is weak and retiring. I think it is possible for a very rich and powerful man to be humble without demeaning himself and it is something I have strived for in my own life from a very early age, probably I think, because that is the way my parents behaved toward other people.

Anyway, that is the way I saw Damian. Only time would tell if my estimation was correct or not but regardless, I was going to train him as the perfect houseboy/body slave and he was going to perform – or else!