Virgin, Slave, Nanny, Lover Pt. 10

Part 10 - Alan's FINO goes horribly wrong

Avicia

***

This is a slow-burn Master/slave love story. If you are looking for lots of sex, please keep searching. I was inspired to write it by MrSmith27 referring to Slave Romances written by Hillary Rodham. Like all good love stories, they do, after some travails, live happily ever after. This story is set in the legal slavery universe created by joe_doe_stories, and the 34 ^th Amendment that relegalised slavery created by Carl Bradford.

Parts of this story are non-consensual. Everyone engaged in sexual activity is over 18.

Many thanks to Carl Bradford, MrSmith27, and ZZChromosome for their editorial help. Any remaining problems are entirely mine.

Please note that I use UK English spelling and vocabulary.

***

Alan:

My date at the slave processing centre to become Diana's FINO (Free-In-Name-Only) slave was inexorably approaching. I felt sick in my stomach; I had no idea what Diana had planned other than she had booked a remote lodge in the White Mountains where my privacy could be protected.

Whenever I asked Diana or Aneu for a hint, I was told, "Slaves have questions; only Masters have answers." Slaves typically had no idea who bought them, where they were going, or what their owners planned to do to them. Uncertainty and fear are inseparable parts of experiencing enslavement.

I wandered through the cubicle maze where the general office slaves worked. They had the least desirable cubicles furthest from the windows. However, unlike the Extraordinary Talent slaves, the general slaves could be signed out overnight for sexual use by any member of staff with a pay grade of IC5, M5, or higher and could be used for any purpose, including sex, but under strict limitations on what physical punishment and sexual practices were permitted. For example, golden showers were explicitly forbidden.

I tried to imagine myself in their shoes but couldn't. At 6 pm every night, the general office slaves were bussed to the Musketaquid Kennels in Concord - the local Native American tribe ran commercial kennels under tribal law, not state law, which gave them a financial advantage and enabled them to ignore Massachusetts's strict slave regulations. They loved having white slave-cocks and slave-cunts to play with at night.

I rode the slave bus with them, still trying to imagine what they were going through, but I had nothing to draw on. My imagination failed me. I couldn't exactly ask the slaves either, as they all knew I was the company owner and were terrified of me.

As CEO of a major high-tech company, I had VIP rights at the kennels, so I wandered around watching hundreds of naked slaves being fed warm slave chow from bowls on the floor. The kennels were at least heated to 68F in winter, so it was bearable, plus they got blankets to stay warm at night. I asked one of the staff about the feeding schedule for my corporate slaves. I was told they got warm slave chow in the evenings, including a hot drink when the temperature outside fell below 40F. Then, in the morning, they got kibble and a mug of unsweetened black coffee to help them get going and do their jobs.

The dismal thought that Diana would probably treat me like this caused palpitations, but I still couldn't imagine myself actually being in their shoes. I hoped she allow me to have coffee as I lived on the stuff. To my shame, it didn't occur to me that night that my company treated its slaves inhumanely and needed improvement.

The day before my enslavement, I shipped the girls off to their grandparents on Cape Cod for two weeks before one final meeting with legal to ensure all the powers of attorney were in place to keep the company running smoothly in my absence. An email was sent to all the staff informing them that I was going on retreat to do some planning and would be incommunicado for two weeks.

The final stop was at a spa that offered male grooming for a Brazilian. Diana warned me to remove all body hair below my eyebrows before getting to slave processing; otherwise, if they had to shave me for my enslavement photos, it would be hugely more embarrassing.

***

Saturday 21st January:

The fateful day arrived; Rocio, Aneu, the slave psychologist, and I took the corporate jet to Erie, PA, for slave processing; it was a town where I had no business contacts and no friends who might recognise me. Diana remained behind to get everything ready in New Hampshire.

I was told that afterwards, I would be put in a poodle crate and trucked back to the private jet, flying us all directly to the White Mountains for my two-week slave experience. I thought I could endure anything for two weeks knowing the end was in sight, and I hadn't really lost my freedom, possessions, and friends.

Rocio held my hand for the entire flight. I think she was more worried than I was about what Diana would do to me, but then she had personal experience of Diana's dominance.

"Alan, my love, I know Diana is going to force you to have sex with other people, male and female; the best way to get through this is to accept it will happen and try to enjoy it instead of getting angry, hurt, and resentful. So you have my permission to get what enjoyment you can glean from this dismal experience, OK?"

When the jet landed in Erie (also known as Dreary Erie, the Mistake on the Lake), a black town car pulled up to the ramp. Rocio, Aneu, and I were driven to the slave processing centre. When we reached the car park, Aneu ordered me to get out of the car and strip. This was the riskiest part of the day for being recognised.

I don't know if you've ever been to Erie, but it can be bitterly cold in winter. I was lucky in that we had a warmer spell with the temp in the mid-40s

I had known this was coming but being ordered to strip naked by my youngest intern and younger sister of my fiancée was incredibly humiliating. I desperately tried to cover my privates until she brushed my hands away, reminded me that slaves had no privacy, and smirked at my discomfort. Having my genitals shaved made me feel much more shamefully exposed and more exposed to the chill.

Aneu collared me and cuffed my hands behind my back. She gave me flip-flops and a coat to put over my naked shoulders because of the cold. As Aneu walked me across the car park into the centre on a leash, she giggled at the thought that she had her naked CEO leashed like a pet poodle. "Come on, little puppy," she quipped and tugged the leash, adding to my humiliation. Rocio came with us as far as the door, then took the coat and returned to the car as she would have been legally required to strip to go into the slave processing facility.

We had a scheduled meeting with a female lawyer to review and sign the FINO contract. The slave wrangler who would be processing me was also present. The lawyer reviewed the limitations clauses I had demanded. In addition, she reminded the wrangler that I would not be displayed for grading (as the chance of being recognised would increase dramatically) and that a full leather hood was to be placed over my head as soon as intake processing was done.

Finally, I verified that it specified my enslavement would start on Saturday, 21st January, and my manumission was to be no later than Saturday, 4th February.

After the papers were signed, the lawyer told me I was now under slave discipline for the next two weeks; the wrangler removed the leather training collar and put on one of their heavy shock collars. Then, he read me the warning spiel about physical punishment. I had hoped I would simply be tattooed with my Slave Identification Number (SIN), have the legally mandated minimum set of photos taken, and then go straight to shipping and back to the jet.

"Slave, you will thank the lawyer in the customary way and do it to the best of your abilities."

I was legally unable to say 'No' but gave Aneu a scorching glare.

"Slave, Dani told you that she was required to do this when she signed her FINO. So you should have known it was coming. You are fortunate we chose a female lawyer; get to it."

The lawyer snickered; she was one of the few people who knew my true identity and was clearly tickled pink that she'd have a billionaire between her legs, although some of her reaction may have been that she was being paid a five-figure for her discretion. The wrangler would get an equal payment for his silence. The most galling part was that Rocio's younger sister would watch me give oral sex to a stranger.

She flipped up her skirt and pulled her panties aside. She had a wild tangle of curls and clearly didn't groom down there. I tentatively licked her; to my surprise, she'd applied Eau du cologne - she had a light citrusy smell with maybe lemon verbena. I'd never come across a woman perfuming her vulva.

I reluctantly accepted that this was my life for the next two weeks and parted her curls with my hands. It's really unpleasant to lick around the outside of an untrimmed vulva. I twice had to spit wiry curls out of my mouth. I gave up and licked up her slit. She quietly moaned, "Oh, boy, I need this." I tongued the entrance to her love canal, quivering the tip of my tongue around the edges and pushing in as far as I could.

Next, I paid attention to her labia which stuck out like triangles; they were already fully engorged. She was enjoying this. I sucked her labia and hummed against them. I resumed licking her slit until she put her hands on my head and indicated she wanted me to move up. Her hot button had fully emerged from its hood as I sucked it into my mouth. I've always enjoyed going down on women, so it didn't surprise me when I soon had her getting into her groove.

"Oh, that's good, slave. Yes, just there, keep doing that."

I continued lapping her hot button and practised every skill I knew, sucking, flicking, and encircling it as her moans grew louder.

Everyone knew when she came, "Yes, yes, oh gods, please, FUUUUCK!"

Unfortunately, Rocio didn't release much lady cum when she orgasmed, so I was mentally unprepared for the small gush of fluids all over my face.

"Fuck, slave boy, you have one talented tongue. I wish I could buy you myself."

Unknown to me, Diana and Aneu had agreed I needed a more complete experience, including the slut wash. I looked at Aneu for a tissue to clean my face, but she said it would be taken care of in the slut wash. I groaned. Now my youngest intern would lead me on a leash with my face covered in girl cum. I guessed this was Diana's doing, and at that moment, I hated Diana.

The next stage was to be tattooed and photographed for the National Slave Registry. As a FINO, I would be spared the infamous 'pink shots' of my genitals and anus, but I would be photographed naked, front and back.

The photographer/tattooist typically had 2-3 slaves in his office waiting to be processed at any time. Purely by chance, one of the other slaves was also called Alan; he was Alan Rivers. My SIN was assigned as PA-16563-2316 and tattooed on my lower lip. The photographer checked that a deposit had been made to his bank account and then uploaded Alan River's photos under my SIN (slave 2316), and my photos were uploaded under the SIN for the other Alan (slave 2319), who got a three-year indenture for debt default. The other Alan was younger, lean, and built like a football player.

As soon as the wranglers departed with their charges, the photographer texted a burner phone and gave the unknown person on the other end the name Alan Rivers. Soon after that, another deposit was made to his bank account.

I endured the slut wash with the best humility I could muster. I wondered how on earth a successful billionaire could find himself naked and being washed by two big black women. The staff told me that Aneu had explicitly requested that I be made to orally service them. This would be my first experience of eating black pussy.

Freja and Rocio were both slim, as were the girls I'd dated in college. I reached out with my tongue to lick the first one but had trouble penetrating her folds of flesh with just my tongue.

"Mistress, please, may this slave use his hands?"

"White boy, you've never been with a BBW before, have you?"

"No, Mistress, this slave has not."

She reached down, parted her folds for me, and then gave me permission. I licked up her slit; she was soaked, not in arousal, but in sweat. I recoiled before catching myself and doubling down on my efforts. At the end of the day, cunnilingus is cunnilingus; I set all other thoughts aside and focused on her pleasure as I would my fiancée.

After bringing both of them to screaming orgasms, I had a throbbing hard-on. They guffawed at my rigid pulsing cock before grabbing two packs of frozen peas and squeezing my genitals until they shrunk. I shrieked as the cold ice clamped down hard onto my cock and got an electric shock from my collar in return. I shrieked again at the unexpected pain.

"Boy, do we need to gag you, or will you behave?"

"Mistress, this slave will be silent."

I thought having strangers harshly wash my junk was humiliating; it was nothing compared to them manhandling my cock into a tight restraint and padlocking the chastity device on my now-emasculated manhood while Aneu watched, fascinated by it. Aneu grabbed my cock cage to look at it more closely and giggled, "I guess slaves really don't have control over their orgasms. Guess who does?"

I knew then that I would get no pity from her. Rocio and I had realised she was even more dominant than Diana. Aneu was enjoying this far too much, as she was sure I'd never take her scholarship away because of my love for Rocio. Somehow I couldn't see my sister wanting to unlock my cock restraint either (or even touch it, for that matter). I shuddered at the thought of two weeks of frustrating, painful denial. I also wondered how the clause saying no sexual contact with Aneu hadn't precluded her from manhandling my caged junk.

The washers gave the keys to the wrangler. He took me to shipping, where I was given slave kibble and a water bottle for lunch before being taken to the slave latrine to squat over the metal grating (like a woman). Standing up to pee was a privilege only for those whose cocks were unrestrained. The combination of being watched by Aneu and the alien sensation of my cock being caged made it acutely embarrassing and difficult to let it flow.

After eventually peeing, I was gagged, hooded, handcuffed, and kept in a large cage with other slaves. There were no clocks in sight, so I had no idea how much time had passed before they retrieved me. Aneu had spent the time chatting with my wrangler. Next, I was backed into a poodle crate.

Aneu then double-checked the shipping label, but I could not see it. Finally, she looked at me, "Cheer up, slave. We'll have so much fun playing with you for the next two weeks. See you soon."

She left and headed back to the jet. At the same time, the other slave called Alan, was backed into a poodle crate close to mine. They were about to load my crate onto the truck when a senior manager came down, red in the face.

"Stop, stop, there's been a dreadful mix-up. We had two Alans enslaved today. As you may know, the computer checks the registry photos against the photos from the security feed. Mercifully, it caught that two slaves had their records switched. This is dreadful, we've never had it happen before, but that's why we have the computer double-check everything. The two-week FINO Alan has the SIN of the three-year indenture Alan and vice versa. We've got it straightened out now."

The manager switched the shipping labels between the two crates. I watched in dismay as the other Alan was loaded onto the pickup truck heading, I assumed, to the private jet terminal. I trusted Aneu would check the crate as soon as it arrived at the terminal and quickly fix the mix-up.

My crate was loaded onto another pickup truck. Due to the outside temperature, the Federal Uniform Slave Code required that I have a blanket wrapped over me, but I knew I would still freeze my balls off.

I had no idea where I was being taken, but I was painfully aware that I was completely naked in my crate and shivering from the chilly air. It troubled me that my truck left before Aneu had time to fix the switcheroo. Fixing this was going to be much more time consuming

After driving for an hour, we arrived at the cargo terminal in Buffalo, NY. I was loaded into the cargo hold of a Frontier Airlines flight. I had no idea where I was being sent.

***

Rocio:

I was shocked when we took off from Erie immediately without waiting for Alan and his poodle crate; I was worried. Aneu said not knowing where they were being shipped was part of a slave's fearful introduction to their new status. Alan expected to be shipped straight to the jet, so to keep him off-kilter, he was being trucked all the way to the White Mountains. She reassured me that I would see my fiancé late that night.

"Aneu, I know the contract forbids any sexual contact between Alan and Diana or you, so I have no idea with whom he will be having sex. What's worrying me is that if you are the one to force him to have gay sex, I'll end up hating you. I don't think I could survive knowing my younger sister forced my fiancé to do something that we both find repugnant."

"Mi hermana mayor, the contract has been carefully worked out to ensure none of Alan's important relationships will be damaged. I hope it won't damage my relationship with him, as I depend on his goodwill for my corporate scholarship. I am not going to jeopardise that any further than what I had to do for his enslavement. I've also worked with the psychologist to protect our relationship as sisters. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but we are keeping you in the dark, so Alan can't blame you afterwards."

***

National Slave Registry:

At 4pm, the shift's senior information security officer (SISO) checked his account balance online. A five-figure deposit had been made. First, he disabled the database audit trail to ensure there was no record of his actions. Next, he deleted the photos of the real Alan Petersen and put Alan Rivers's photos back under his real name and SIN (2319).

The real Alan Rivers had been shipped to his new owner in Charleston, WV. SIN 2316 was edited to the name Stanley Laurel, and images from the registration of a now-deceased slave of the right age were loaded into it. The SISO verified that the legal record still stated 2316 was a two-week FINO. In addition, he edited the owner to be Larissa Petrillo in Richmond, VA.

There was now no record of Alan Petersen ever having been processed as a slave; the registry records showed that Larissa Petrillo had purchased slave 2316 with the name Stanley Laurel. When everything was done that the shadowy figure on the end of the burner phone wanted, he reenabled the database audit trail and texted the burner phone to give them the name Stanley Laurel. Minutes later, another five-figure sum was deposited in his account.

***

Richmond:

That evening, Larissa Petrillo eagerly waited for her new slave to arrive. The last two weeks had been hectic with workmen creating a secure, soundproof bedroom to stop her new slave from escaping and keep her safe from the slave at night. The bedroom had a slave latrine. It was a design that used to be common in some parts of Europe decades ago, with a square porcelain bowl set in the floor with two pads in the middle for your feet so you could squat over the hole.

She'd bought Premium Slave Kibble, dog bowls, whips, crops, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, chains, a spreader bar, a taser, and an emergency mace spray.

She was ready for her first-ever slave. Her parents had slaves, and she was used to being around slaves: her father had taught her that it was cruel to be nice to slaves as it gave them false hope that their situation would change. You had to remain icy cold with a slave and treat it as an object to be used. Never mind what they protested; they were to be treated like animals.