Slavery 2050 Pt. 03: The Offer

Another blow. He seemed shocked at the discipline.

I'd have put him on my list if only he'd kept his eyes on his work.

"When I walk away, I want you to think about today. I've been honoured to draw up a list of twenty slaves for Lady Noor."

I certainly had his full attention now. His whole world focused on me.

"You won't be one of them."

His head lowered fractionally, but I was disappointed with his lack of reaction. He never expected to be on Lady Noor's list.

"And I'll be watching you, closely. You're here to work, hard. If I see your eyes wandering again, it'll be a thirty minuter."

The thirty minuter had been described to me by Steve from last summer's military exercises. A slave's balls are twisted and squeezed, normally by male overseers taking turns for thirty minutes. Most slaves repeatedly lose consciousness so I was told and are revived with smelling salts. I'd never used the expression before, but ogling boy's reaction told me he'd been on the wrong end at least once.

"Is that clear, slave?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

I wish I'd remembered the thirty minuter threat during double speed, but I still hadn't finished with ogling boy.

"Mmm, you see. I don't think it is clear. Do you enjoy pain, slave?"

He'd been expecting pain since I first clocked him ogling, so his face was now just one big resignation.

"No, Ma'am."

"Well, that makes one of us."

Jonjo the swimming coach had given me an extra twelve seconds per hundred metres with extra hip swivel, but I never told him a secondary benefit. The power my knee can now ram up into a slave's balls is awesome. The male overseers are welcome to give flattering looks, but the machine slaves by the centre aisle learned their lesson in week one.

The first blow was superb, dead on central. I felt both his testes squash flat between my upper patella and his pelvic bone. The grunt of sheer pain came from deep within his bowels. I cupped my hands behind his neck and looked into his bloodshot eyes as my knee hammered home for number two. There was more power this time, but I was disappointed to be off centre as I only felt one testicle against my knee. Nevertheless, there was the same satisfying deep grunt of pain. Two was punishment enough, but on the last blow I caught the stench of his Carbpro® feed. I almost retched, and out of anger instead of duty, I rammed my knee up into his balls one more time. Raising my left heel at the moment of impact gave that extra few percent of force. It was the best of the three. As he let out a cross between a grunt and a cough and doubled over in pain, I shoved him against his machine. He was hacking and panting like a dog. Quite appropriate. That'll focus his mind on Lady Noor's Spending Needs until lights out. He had been no doubt looking forward to a midnight masturbation over today's events, but my little intervention had given him more important things to reflect on.

"Now where will your eyes be next time a lady walks past your machine, slave?"

He was still clinging on to the mesh safety guard of his machine. Again, this deserved punishment, but he'd had his fair share already tonight.

"Eyes front, Ma'am."

I reckon he was stupid enough to continue ogling, but I'd be watching.

"There is one lady you can look at, though." I gestured up at Lady Noor's holo on his machine. "Concentrate on Lady Noor's Spending Needs. Always, slave."

Lady Noor smiled down at probably one of her least productive slaves in BAe3. I'm sure she wasn't smiling when she walked past earlier and saw the double speed welts on his back.

"Now, you have just over two hours left until midnight. I want solid work."

"Yes, Ma'am."

At least he was now stood to attention, a slightly less pathetic sight.

"Well?"

He really was a gormless idiot and belonged in a factory.

"Get on with your work, slave!"

There was none of the yes Ma'am thank you Ma'am you get with the younger slaves, but he did at least start working again at an acceptable pace. For that disrespect, he'll be getting a powerful kick between the legs when I walk past later.

I thought there was something amiss in rows 27 to 29. The LimCo slaves were naked. Presumably Lady Noor's staff had instructed this. The pubic hair on display was natural and unkempt. LimCo logic is why waste slave earning time trimming pubes every morning if they're covered? A younger and well-toned conscript chained to 28C grunted as he heaved a massive crate next to his machine. He'd clearly had a six pack when conscripted, but this had now faded as the muscle mass diminished. Right man for the job, although the swollen right eye and three jagged new welts across his broad back showed his male overseer was less appreciative of his talents. His pubes were the same colour and tangled mess as Steve's. I frowned at the bruised and swollen testicles. Such a waste. I had to get his story.

"Report, machine slave!"

He took a couple of seconds to react. In fairness, he was engrossed in his work, but we're normally told to punish dissent. A less-interesting slave would be feeling my right knee squarely in his balls by now, but there's something about the better-looking slaves and their balls. His overseers harboured no such maternal instincts, and the scrotal flesh around his right testicle had a fresh cigarette or cigar burn. Ouch!

"I am a conscript slave, Ma'am, and have the honour of serving the Lim Family for five years minimum. Three-monthly earnings €$9900, Ma'am."

Well trained. My eyes followed a bead of sweat running down his right ribcage. It diverted at an old whip scar. His penis was thick with a meandering vein. It was wasted in here at this machine covered or not.

"Earliest release?"

I gripped his fat cock which immediately became semi-erect and throbbing.

"2066, Ma'am."

"Please tell me this was put to good use before you were chained in here?"

He was embarrassed by the unusual attention, "Yes Ma'am"

"If you'd served in our forces like a man, we'd be free to use it."

If he'd noticed the "we" part, he didn't let on.

"I was discharged from basic training, Ma'am. Deemed unfit for service, Ma'am"

I thought he looked too good for a factory. The last part of his answer was not part of my question, though. Again, deserving of punishment. This slave knew I was interested in more than his monthly earnings and started to relax.

"You heard Lady Noor's announcement today, about the releases?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but with respect, Ma'am, I believe Tan Sri Lady Noor made the offer to her conscripts, Ma'am"

Drat! He was listening and perceptive too.

"We can but try, conscript." I ruffled his mass of pubes. "You have a lot to offer outside."

His cock was now fat and juicy.

"Of course, I'd want to test this. Do you remember how?"

The fat cock throbbed in my hand. A few more squeezes and he'd have come.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"After lights out. Try and stay awake, my chained up little fuck pet."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well? Carry on making money for Lady Lim and co. Think of those vicuna dresses you're slaving for."

His face sank at my seemingly flippant remark. I wanted him to focus on his work until midnight as an erection that size would attract attention not to mention his overseer's steel toecaps. I can't get him released, but I'll get him using his cock as nature intended for the rest of the holidays.

BAe3 is quite the place after lights out. The rhythmic clinking of wrist chains makes me wonder what the slaves think about during that brief escape before exhaustion and sleep kicks in. But that's for the older slaves or those considered visually unsuitable for other duties. Then there's the young fresh conscripts or the army castoffs like tonight's fuck boy. You won't read about the clunky jangle of chains and grunts from virile slaves and the shouts of "faster!" from opportune overseers, but who could resist? My Bowen-Barnes fuck boy chained at 25S is learning well. A quick punch in the balls has him slowing down. These boys need to perform and not come after a matter of seconds.

Back to the day job, I sat and watched a section of slaves chained halfway along 34P. They too were younger slaves fresh out of training, working hard, tired but keen faces honoured to serve and spurred on further by today's no doubt nerve wracking but honourable visit. Not one even noticed I'd sat behind them. Great to see. Lady Noor's photograph looked down at them working and somehow looked happier on these machines. She must've been happier inspecting these slaves today too, not like the disappointments I had to kick repeatedly. I was so angry and ashamed to have to do that in the presence of an Upper.

Their male overseer was sat further along the row in his chair playing on his DenWa. No need to encourage his slaves.

I watched Delta 307761/2062, a young slave about my age, chained to machine 18F. His ribs were protruding and he had already started developing a stooped physique. Another one who would've been earmarked for factory service from year 7. Get used to masturbating onto your cardboard, ugly machine slave.

Three fresh welts ran diagonally across his back and one had drawn blood. Even fresh young conscripts need reminders of Spending Plans it seems.

His tired face strained as he lifted a new box of parts and seamlessly continued working, loading the first component into his machine within a second. He deburred it and passed it left to 19F. Lady Noor smiled down on him.

Machine slave,

My Spending Needs per slave this month are €$12767

You are making me a monthly average of €$10951

It shows what modern training methods can achieve. I pulled out my DenWa.

"Li"

Delta 307761/2062's shaved head turned maybe ten degrees at the sound of Miss Li's voice, but he had the sense and discipline to block out the distraction and work on.

"Miss Li. Sandra D'Arcy. I'm sending you the list now.