My Life as My Father's Slave

(Many thanks to Jabad for reviewing and editing my story)

Warning: this story contains incest, pure homophobia, forced domination and slavery, violence and other elements that may be disturbing to those who do not like this kind of thing. If this is your case, I advise against reading it.

This story takes place in the same dystopian world as my story Betrayed and Enslaved. If you have read it you will understand it much better, although some scenes may be repetitive, but it is not necessary to have read it to understand this one:

After the pandemic, a totalitarian government has taken control of the country and declared male homosexuals "enemies of the state". When a homosexual is discovered he is enslaved, if he is discovered by the police he is sold to the highest bidder, if it is a citizen who denounces him, he is handed over as a slave to that citizen.

And in this society this story begins....

I lived in a constant state of fear. Being a homosexual in a society that enslaved gays was a terrible thing. I'll tell you a little bit about myself and my circumstances: my name is Ethan, I was 19 years old at the time and I lived with my father, Mason, who was a cop. We lived in a villa on the outskirts of town. My mother died when I was 13 and since then my father and I had been very close. My father loved me madly, he would have given his life for me and I loved him deeply too. I'd known for some time that I was attracted to men and not women and I had revealed to him. He had no problem with it, although he asked me to keep it a secret, as the social environment was no longer very favorable to homosexuality. However, it got worse and two years later the infamous law was passed that made homosexuality punishable by slavery. My father was terrified that I would be discovered and enslaved. He had always been very liberal and open-minded, and he found all this repression terrible. However, his job as a policeman forced him to take an active part in it, even though he hated it. He often said to me:

-Son, you should stop all sexual activity and hide completely. I am very afraid for you. Every day I am forced to arrest more and more homosexual boys, and you can't imagine how they treat them! I have to watch day after day my colleagues behave with them as if they were pure trash, even Mike, I don't understand how he hates them so much.

Mike was my father's coworker for many years. He was my godfather too and had always been like a second father to me. In fact, I used to call him "Uncle Mike". When my father would tell me this, I would always promise him that I would, that I would hide. However, I was tremendously sexual and, moreover, having come out of the closet very young, I already had a network of contacts that allowed me, even in those terrible times, to have clandestine sexual encounters with a certain frequency. So, in spite of my promises to my father, I kept on meeting boys again and again, and my father consented, understanding, and even asked me that at least we should always do it at our house, when he went out, where he thought we would be more protected.

One fateful night I was in bed with a boy. My father had gone out for a drink with his buddy Mike. Suddenly I heard the door open, I wasn't too alarmed, I assumed it was my father who had forgotten something, he would sneak in and leave, it had happened before. However, I was wrong, suddenly the door to my room opened and on the threshold appeared the tall, burly figure of my godfather. He was completely stunned when he saw the scene unfolding before him and only managed to stammer:

-My God, Ethan!

The boy I was with, smart and quick, or just used to this sort of thing, jumped out of bed and, incredibly fast, slipped out the window. I'm sure Mike didn't even get a glimpse of his face. He didn't pay much attention to him either. Again, he said:

-My God! Ethan! You're... you're... a faggot.

At that moment the door to the street opened and my father walked in. He immediately realized what was happening:

-Mike, what are you doing here?

My godfather, still stunned, answered:

-I was nearby and thought that, instead of waiting for you at the bar, I'd come looking for you -and again in shock, he repeated: -Oh my God, Mason! Your son is a faggot...

My father froze for a moment, but long enough for Mike to understand:

-You knew, Mason, you knew and you didn't report it!

-Calm down, Mike. Listen... I... -My father didn't know what to say.

-You didn't report it! Do you know what you could get for this?

-Mike, how could you want me to report it? For God's sake, he's my son!

-But he's also a dirty faggot -Mike's words broke my heart. I loved him so much! -Besides, it's your duty! You may be a father, but first of all, you're a cop...

My father lowered his head, dejected. Mike seemed to calm down a bit and meditated. A minute later he said, in a warmer tone:

-Look Mason, you're like a brother to me and I understand that, as a father, this has been hard for you. I'm not going to do what I was supposed to do, which is to report you and make you pay for this. But I'm certainly going to report this fucking faggot right now, whether you like it or not...

-Please, Mike, please... -my father pleaded.

-It's my duty as a cop and as a citizen!

-Listen, Mike -my father asked him-. Calm down, please. At least give me something: let me be the one to report him, so he'll stay at home with me... -those words of my father made my blood run cold. He was ready to let them enslave me!

-I'm not sure a judge would leave him with his own father. Besides, I don't know if you'll make him pay properly...

-I'm sure the judge will accept it, me being a cop. Please, I beg you, Mike, we are like family, for the love we have for each other, you have been like a father to Ethan... let me at least protect him, so he doesn't fall into God knows what hands...

Mike seemed to calm down and remained thoughtful for a while. He seemed to be having a hard time making a decision. Finally, he said in a soft but firm voice:

-All right, I'll let you report it yourself and let everyone think you didn't know about it...

-Thank you Mike, thank you, really!

-Listen -my godfather interrupted him with acrimony-, tomorrow at 9 o'clock I'll be here to arrest him. If you haven't reported it by then I'll take care of it and everyone will know what kind of person you are, understood?

-Yes, yes, Mike, thank you...

Mike turned to leave. I, not being able to hold back any longer, walked up to him, still half naked and tried to grab his arm, saying:

-Uncle Mike, please listen to me...

Then, to my surprise, my dear Uncle Mike, the one who had been my second father, gave me such a slap that I was knocked to the ground. However, I was almost more hurt by his words:

-Don't you dare touch me, you dirty faggot! -he said angrily-, and don't you ever speak to me again for the rest of your pathetic life...

He spat in my face and hurried out of the house. My father, completely devastated, helped me up, saying to me:

-God, it's finally happened... I've been dreading it for so long...

-Dad, I have to go. Maybe I can still leave the country -I told him agitatedly.

-What nonsense, son! Where are you going to go? Besides, if you run away, I'll lose my job, maybe go to jail...

I was hurt that he seemed to care more about his career than my welfare. But I continued to plead with him:

-Well, come with me. Let's both go. There is still time...

-It can't be, Ethan. We can't just leave everything behind and try to run away. Besides, where could we hide? The border is far away and heavily guarded. And I don't trust Mike. He might even have us stake out somehow tonight. We wouldn't take two steps without him coming down on us....

That's when I broke down and started crying:

-Dad, I don't want to be a slave, please... -I sobbed. He hugged me tenderly and, comforting me, said:

-Don't worry, you're not going to be one. If I denounce you, they will appoint me as your owner, you will come home and everything will be as usual. That's why I asked Mike to let me do it. Nothing will change, I promise... Calm down son, everything will be fine....

I calmed down a little, thanks to my father's reassuring words. After a while, both of us dejected, we went to bed.

I could hardly sleep all night. I had full confidence in my father, but despite what he had told me, there were too many dangers. What if in the end my father was also accused and arrested? What if I was not allowed to stay with him? What would become of me?

Shortly after eight o'clock in the morning my father, already dressed in uniform, came in to wake me up:

-Ethan, I'm going to make the report before Mike does. Get dressed and be ready. In less than an hour we'll come and get you...

And he saw such a terrified look on my face that he came over to me and hugged me warmly, while I started crying again, assuring me that everything was going to be all right. Then he came out. I got ready and wait for my terrible destiny. At 9 o'clock I heard the front door open. I walked out and found Mike and my father, both in their uniforms. My father, with a completely inscrutable expression, came toward me, gently turned me around and, taking my arms behind my back, put handcuffs on me, while Mike said in an official tone:

-Ethan Hill, you are under arrest for immoral conduct and unnatural deviation. You have the right to remain silent...etc. etc. etc. -He added disdainfully-, I'm not going to bother citing his rights to a faggot who's soon to lose them all.

My father looked at me and shook his head in disgust. However, he did not reply and I was led to the official car, in which I was quietly taken to the dungeons of the courthouse. Those matters were dealt with quickly. I was in the dungeon for only a short time, just a couple of hours, during which my father came by a couple of times to sneak a glimpse of me and make sure I was all right. I guess him being a cop might have influenced the process to be expedited. There were times when prisoners could be in that dungeon for days at a time.

At last I was taken to the courtroom. It was presided over by a woman who, after hearing the testimonies of my father and my godfather Mike that I had been caught in flagrante delicto, both being policemen and presumed to be truthful in their statements, said that she did not need any more evidence and that she was ready to pronounce a verdict. She then turned to me and uttered the most terrifying words I have ever heard in my life:

- Ethan Hill, I find you guilty of unnatural and immoral conduct. By virtue of this sentence you are hereby sentenced to forfeit your liberty and all your rights as a citizen and as a human being. From now on, legally you will be considered as an object, as a possession of your owner, which I decree at this moment will be Agent Mason Hill, your father, according to the request of him. Your owner shall have full authority over your body and mind. He may do whatever he pleases with you: alter your body in any way he wishes, sell you, subject you to any physical or moral punishment, torture you or even put you to death without being penalized in any way for it.

I could not believe the words of that sentence. How could society have reached such a degree of cruelty and inhumanity? I looked at my father, who was listening to all this with the same inscrutable expression as in the morning. What was he thinking about the fact that his son had just become one more of his possessions?

The judge added a few words, which I did not understand at the time, but which were to have great significance for me during the following weeks:

-On delivery of the slave to a direct relative, the action protocol foreseen to prevent inappropriate treatment of the condemned person will be activated.

And, without further ado, she moved on to the next case while I was taken to another part of the courthouse. Before leaving the courtroom, I saw that my father's expression had changed to one of deep regret.

The process that followed was already partly known to me, for my father had told me about it on occasion. I was led into a courtyard where, after being made to undress completely, a substance was applied to me which painfully removed all the hairs on my body, including those on my head. I was then taken to a room where a man in a white robe fastened the distinctive collar of the slaves around my neck. He explained to me that this collar was completely fixed to my neck, that it could not be removed even by my owner, even if he wanted to, and that it emitted, at the will of my owner, punishing electric shocks, ranging from a slight jolt to a shock so great that it could electrocute me. It did not need to be charged, as it drew energy from my own body. He also informed me that my owner would have a chip implanted in his hand that would allow him to activate the collar at any time, without the need to have the remote control at hand that also activated the collar.

Finally, after putting on a loincloth, which was the only garment I was allowed to wear as a slave (more for the discomfort of those who saw me than for my own modesty), another cop led me to where my father was waiting. I did notice that the policemen treated me with quite a bit of deference. I assumed it was due to the respect they must have had for my father, and the ordeal they assumed this was being for him, since the news I had is that the police were not exactly gentle with those convicted of homosexuality. In fact, the cop who led me to my father called him by name and addressed him with a distinctly apologetic expression.

When I reached his level, I saw how the shock totally altered my father's face. As accustomed as he was to seeing similar things, the sight of his adored son almost totally naked and without a single hair on his body must have been truly shocking to him. I watched the great effort he had to make to maintain his composure as he thanked the cop who accompanied me and took the keys from the handcuffs. As we walked to the car, him avoiding looking at me, I guess so as not to break down, I heard him mutter to himself:

-My God, how could it have come to this, how could they be so inhuman?

When we got to the car, he uncuffed me and, when we were safely inside, he hugged me. I burst into tears again, and I think he even shed a tear or two as he consoled me and told me over and over again:

-Be calm, be calm, sweetheart, everything is going to be alright...

He drove home, both of us in silence. When we arrived and went inside he told me to get dressed and we would prepare dinner. I put my clothes back on and felt somewhat normal again, despite the terrible reminder of my situation that was the necklace around my neck. As we made dinner, my father reassured me again by saying:

-Everything is going to continue to be here at home as usual, don't worry son. The only thing is that I have fired Abigail -our maid-. We can't have her around here gossiping. So we'll have to do everything ourselves. But hey -he said cheerfully-, we've had to do it many times before, so that won't be a problem, will it? We'll divide up the chores like we've always done.

-I won't be able to study anymore, Dad -I said somberly. I couldn't share his attempt to lighten the situation.

-That's true -my father conceded-, Well, you won't be able to do it officially, but I want you to continue your education. There are programs, especially online, that can be applied by slaves -I shuddered as I heard that word for the first time, spoken casually, in his mouth-. You will be able to keep studying and... who knows? Maybe someday, somehow, we'll manage to make you a free man again. Don't lose hope, please...

I looked at him touched. He loved me so much! I hugged him warmly and told him that I was very lucky to have him and that I loved him very much. He smiled at me and told me again that everything was going to be all right.

The next two or three days I felt much more relaxed. Although I now had many limitations, my father continued to treat me as usual and between the two of us we divided the household chores evenly. I could only go out on the streets with my father, the slaves were not allowed to walk around alone, so the hours my father spent at work or having a drink with his colleagues I had to stay at home, which I certainly found overwhelming. However, it was also nice to spend all day surfing the Internet, playing video games or chatting with my remaining friends, who had taken a keen interest in my situation. Although I wanted to pursue a career and become qualified, I had never really enjoyed studying, so it provided me with a perfect excuse to laze around all day. On the other hand, my father was more affectionate than ever and showed his support at every step in my new situation.

One afternoon, as my father entered the house I saw that he was carrying an envelope in his hand, which he looked at with concern. Evidently he had just picked it up from the mailbox. I was overcome with a certain uneasiness, although at the time I had no idea how much that letter was going to change my life....

My father opened the envelope, read the letter and his worried face became more pronounced. I immediately asked him:

-What is it, Dad?

-It is a notification from the Home Office. It seems that in three weeks an agent will be coming to our house to make an inspection...

-What are you talking about, Dad?

-You see... -he explained with concern-, the authorities have always been reluctant to assign immediate family members, parents, children, siblings, as slave owners... When a homosexual is condemned to slavery, they really want him to become a slave, since it is a punishment to a large extent. And, being the owner a loved one, they always fear that such slavery is fake and, really, in private, the slave is treated like any normal person -he looked at me and said, as if feeling a little guilty: -Well, exactly what I am doing with you...

My heart started pounding listening to that. My father continued:

-However, since it is relatively frequent that the one who denounces the homosexual is a relative -I shuddered. Was it really like that?-, a program was developed recently, according to which an inspector is sent to live for a few days with the slave and his family, to verify that the convicted person is indeed treated as a slave -at this point, my father's voice became a little exasperated-. But I thought we were going to get away with it, dammit!... Being a cop, I thought they would trust me and leave us alone. Besides, the guy who runs this program at the Home Office is my coworker Bill's brother. I thought he would also do something to save us the trouble. I'll tell him tomorrow and ask him to talk to his brother. Shit! If an inspector comes here, it could all go to hell....

My father got up and nervously started pacing around the room. I shared his concern, but I thought quickly and said to him:

-Dad, don't worry. When the inspector comes here we will behave as masters and slaves behave during those days and we will trick him. Then we can go on with our normal lives.

-Do you think we'll be able to? -he asked me, worried.

-Of course we will. Besides, you've been trained in slave training, haven't you? You'll know all the tricks. It won't be hard for us to get into those roles for a couple of days...

-Yes, I guess you're right -my father replied, after a while of thought-. We'll do that. In any case, I'll talk to Bill tomorrow and see what can be done -then he said cheerfully: -Let's get dinner ready!

That was the end of it, and I didn't think much more about it. I wasn't so sure about my father. He was so honest, so transparent about everything! But I, of course, saw myself capable of doing the disguise perfectly in front of the inspector. What I didn't expect was what happened the next day. We were just finishing dinner. I had noticed my father's gloomy and regretful mood since he had returned from work, although I hadn't given it much importance. However, as we finished dinner, my father said to me very seriously: