GI Bill Benefits, Pt. 04

[Carl Bradford]

(While we're all waiting for the next episode of "The Apartment":)

(This story is set in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is commonplace for serious crime, un-redeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture. All characters who are enslaved or have any intimate/sexual contact with slaves are 18 years of age or older. This is fiction; no one should ever be deprived of free will nor used sexually without his or her uncoerced permission.)

(Note: Once again, this story is primarily the work of J.R. rather than Carl Bradford, although J.R. has chosen to publish it under my name.)

(Previously: college student and part-time waitress Jackie was on the verge of defaulting on her college loans, which in the new world of indenture meant losing her clothes, her freedom, and any remaining virginities when the bank foreclosed on her. Desperate to avoid this, she had rushed her friend J.R. to exercise his Veterans Affairs right to cancel such a debt—not realizing until too late that this meant enslaving herself to her friend for four years. After her initial horror and humiliation, however, Jackie quickly realized that, much as it embarrassed her, she actually ENJOYED being a sex slave for J.R., so much so that she wanted to extend her submission to him. On the advice of a VA inspector, J.R. agreed to convert her actual enslavement to making her Free In Name Only—still obligated to service and service her master in private for three times the duration of her remaining enslavement. The first step, however, was to persuade a slave psychiatrist to evaluate her mental state and supervise her FINO. Fortunately, one of the most prominent “slave shrinks” had agreed to do this pro bono.)

*****
Jackie’s perspective (19 months in, 29 to go)

Sitting nude in front of the computer screen for a meeting with a slave psychologist is daunting. I wanted to just tell her outright that I wished to enter into the contract with J.R. for a F.I.N.O. for 3 times the remaining time on the contract. I really wanted to admit that I was living my fantasies out – and happier and healthier than I ever had been. I wanted to tell her that becoming a slave was so, well, serendipitous for me that I never thought I could be truly happy. But, I was ashamed of it. I can’t imagine telling anyone else that being a slave completed me in a way I hadn’t thought possible.

She came on the computer screen in a flash, and I was flabbergasted. I expected her to be beautiful, and I started talking right away. “Greeting, Dr. Sheldon, thank you for writing your book, when I first read it I was newly enslaved and Master had gotten for me as a gift to make adjusting to my new life possible. Your descriptions and clinical detachment helped me immensely.”

She sat, smartly dressed, and said, “Thank you. I’m glad I could help. I am here today to evaluate you for a F.I.N.O. conversion, instead of serving as a full slave.” she flipped through the paperwork, “29 months left. I have to evaluate you with three sessions, over three different weeks. So next Monday, and the Monday after that, I’ll see you at this time.” She paused, and then said, “So I can be sure, please get up out of your seat, and stand, then turn in front of the camera. I need to verify for the record that you are compliant with slave standards for these meetings.” I did – I knew it was a formality, but it was awkward. Normally, when I was evaluated by a government official in the Ag. Department or the Veteran’s Affairs, they were mildly attractive, or a little less attractive and fit than I am. But she was intimidating in her beauty, perfect skin, really great curves, and even under her professional suit she was clearly gorgeous.

I rotated slowly in front of the camera until she gave me a signal that it was ok to sit back down. When I did so, she said, “The three appointments will follow a pattern. The first appointment is getting background information about your life before you were a slave. The second appointment is to evaluate your life now that you are a slave. And the third appointment is to evaluate whether or not it will be healthy for you from a physical and psychological perspective to sign a F.I.N.O. contract converting your service to the veteran. Your Master will be evaluated by a separate psychologist, to make sure no conflicts of interest arise.” She paused, “Do you understand everything as I have read it to you?”

I slowly nodded my head, but she said, “Please answer with your voice, a verbal confirmation for the record,” and I suddenly realized that this session would be recorded and reviewed by the V.A. when they approved the FINO conversion. I stated, “I, slave 440-612-4979, understand everything as you have explained it to me, Mistress.” I did want to make sure that I didn’t fault any social custom when we were meeting.

She made a few notations, and then she said to me, “You can sit down now, but make sure not to cross your legs or cover your chest, even if you are more comfortable in those postures.” She waited until I was in my seat, with my posture dictating that I sit with legs apart and back straight. She continued, “I was reviewing your records prior to your case – you had no criminal record, but you had attended college when you were 18 until you were 20, and then you withdrew, and then re-enrolled at 25. And you were enslaved at 27, with a student loan debt totalling $49,135 dollars. With your next month’s interest, you’d have been in default. Is that correct?”

I remembered it clearly. I was a mess at the time, trying to use my meager waitress salary and student loans to afford an apartment and my car, and feeling tired, stressed, and worried that I would be collared and sold before I could graduate. What a difference a year and a half makes. From then till now, I had no worries other than doing whatever Master told me to. OK, I’m being facetious, but not totally. In the 18 months that I had been owned by J.R., I had been working in counseling on emotional issues that I developed prior to becoming a slave. J.R. had let me keep my job and still attend classes, with a notarized letter that I had to keep with me so I could remain dressed and collarless during the day. I replied to her question quickly though, “Yes, that is all correct, Mistress.”

Hesitantly, I then asked, “Mistress, may I ask you a question, about your own experience, before we proceed?”

She smiled at me warmly, “Yes, you may.” She was smiling at me, and being more warm and friendly than I was expecting from her. I asked her, “When you were enslaved, you stated in your book that you had a goal and purpose to cling to. But, you also said that you were surprised that keeping that goal and focus made everything easier for you. My question is – Did you have an enjoyable experience? You’ve said it was educational, and you HAD to do it, but your writing states that you were objective, focused, and learning. You never stated if you enjoyed you time.”

She paused, getting a mischievous look on her face, and then she said something that I wouldn’t have believed possible if I didn’t hear it myself. “You mean, when I was helpless and slave naked for my six months, did I have times where I just wanted to be filled like a slave should be?”

I tried not to gasp, “Yes, Mistress. Your book was excellent, but, it didn’t delve into your emotions. It was like a thesis paper.”

She replied , “For me, it still is difficult to describe looking back. I did have a lot of unexpected pleasure and I did have some real low points. Even today I have an active sex life and I still spend four days a month at the club where I worked when I was a slave, acting as a submissive. I even pretend, in the bedroom, to be my husband’s slave. But, it’s totally different. I believe that you understand what it’s like.”

After I nodded and murmured agreement, she became all business. “But now, I’m interviewing you to determine whether you’re qualified to shift from slavery to FINO. You do understand that such a conversion means tripling the remaining time you serve in a collar, right?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“So, in your own words, can you tell me why you are willing to INCREASE your effective time of servitude? That sounds really odd, considering that you like everyone else did whatever you could think of to AVOID being enslaved.”

Oh lord, I thought, as if it wasn’t bad enough that I have to kneel naked in front of her, now I have to confess that I actually LIKE it! “Mmmm. Well, there’s really two reasons, Mistress. First, my Master is willing to make me nominally free because without that I can’t receive my diploma—we’re both college students.”

It was almost as if she could read my mind; she smiled very sympathetically and asked “OK, I get that, but why are you willing to trade a LOT more time as his slave in return for getting your diploma more quickly?”

Get it over with, I thought. “The truth is—this is really embarrassing to admit—the truth is that I love him so much I’ll do anything to spend more time with him.”

“That’s fairly typical, Jackie—you’re not the first slave to fall in love with a master or mistress. The question is, HOW do you want to spend more time with your owner? You’ve still got several years on your original indenture, and after that you could seek a normal relationship with him. Or—forgive me for asking this but it’s important—is the truth that you want to spend more time as his slave?”

Gulp. “My master is very kind to me when we make love. But, I . . . really enjoy being his slave, his sex toy, so I welcome the chance to prolong my service to him.”

She smiled briefly, but not in a nasty way. “That’s what I was looking for, Jackie. Because you’re already a slave, the law says you have no free will about continuing in that status—it’s actually unfair to ask you to consent to trading one form of enslavement for another. But, am I correct that you would continue to serve him in a collar even if you got no legal benefit from doing so?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied in a tiny voice, my eyes downcast.

“Don’t be embarrassed to admit it, girl,” she replied. “If you’re read my book, you already know that I believe some slaves—not all by any means, but some—actually feel more at peace, safer, happier, more fulfilled (pardon the pun) by continuing their servitude, at least when their masters take care of their basic needs. This is NOT some male chauvinist assumption about ALL women ‘wanting to be used,’—I suspect you are a good example of a subset of slaves who actually benefit from submitting. Here’s an easy test of that hypothesis: imagine that somehow I could free you from your enslavement tomorrow—I can’t, but this is just a thought experiment. Once you were freed, would you walk away or would you want to re-enslave yourself, voluntarily, to J.R.? And remember that if you were a normal slave he would be free to sell you immediately.”

I thought about it for perhaps three whole seconds, then replied, firmly, “re-enslave myself, and hope that he’d keep me.”

She smiled again, slightly. “Are you sure?” I nodded firmly. “Then,” she pursued, “If he’s willing to convert you to a FINO, you’d have no problem with the extra time you’ll have to serve as his slave?”

“No problem at all, Mistress,” I repeated, even more firmly.

“All right, you’ve convinced me,” the slave shrink responded. I won’t charge you anything except the standard fee that the V.A. will pay me for becoming your guardian ad litem. But there are some small fees involved that your master needs to investigate—I think he’ll have to pay the Ag. Dept. $25.00 to change your status and then pay a slave market another $60.00 for the cost of getting you re-graded as a slave once you’ve converted to FINO.” Over the next ten minutes, she reviewed the procedure with me, gave me a website to review it, and told me that, once he scheduled my conversion with the VA, he needed to call her office and make sure Nikki was free to show up at the Ag. Dept. at the right date and time.

*****
It may sound crazy, but when I told my Master what Doctor Nikki had said, he was overjoyed, and eagerly dragged me into bed for a prolonged lovemaking session that left me chained to the bed and leaking from all three openings. Have I told you before that I’m happiest when J.R. dominates and pounds me like that? I know it’s odd for a rape survivor to feel that way, but even when he’s doing this my owner still treats me carefully and shows that he respects and loves me, which is what I crave. (OK, OK, all that and his monster cock filling my openings! What’s not to love?)

ANYWAY, eight days after my tele-interview I got to meet Mistress Nikki in person, at the Ag. Dept. building on North Congress, the same place I had stupidly self-enslaved to begin this. I’m not going to lie—I don’t think I’ll EVER overcome the humiliation of being a naked, collared, slave bimbo, hands cuffed behind my back as my master led me almost casually, as if he did it every day, through an office filled with well-dressed and free people who gawked and made lewd and degrading comments about me as if I were a sub-human slut (which technically I was!) This time I was too aroused to care much, though—excited not because I was a helpless sex slave, but because I was about to make that relationship more permanent by INCREASING my time in a collar as a FINO serving Master J.R.! Weird, I know—you can call it slave mind if you like, but for me it was like a wedding day in a primitive society, where the trembling young woman becomes the permanent property of her husband/owner. And, I didn’t even have to provide a dowry to the marriage—just my tired car and dripping submissive body.

Thanks to both Doctor Nikki and a free legal clinic, my owner had all the right paperwork, including my original VA enslavement (misleadingly labelled a “Manumission Voucher”) and an elaborate, VA-approved contract to convert the remaining time of my enslavement into a much longer obligation as Free In Name Only, under which Master J.R. still had the same control over me but I became legally free.

A lot of paperwork ensued, naturally. Just when I thought it would never end, Mr. Simmons invited J.R., Nikki (as guardian) and finally me to sign it. At least they had to release me from the cuffs temporarily! I was still collared and naked, and when I bent over to sign, my owner had a firm handful of my ass, which seemed like a promise of future bliss. When I finished signing, I stood back up and assumed the “Present” position—fingers interlocked behind my collar, feet slightly more than shoulder-length apart, displaying my entire body while J.R. goosed my anus and Mr. Simmons stamped the papers in various places, then ran the signature page through a little machine that left a gold foil Texas star on it.

“Congratulations, Mr. Roberts, you are now the proud owner of a FINO.” He remarked.

J.R. didn’t hesitate. “You know what to do to thank Mr. Simmons, slut,” he said to me pleasantly. I’d learned my lesson from the last time I’d been in that office. I dropped to my hands and knees, crawled around Simmons’ desk, then resumed a kneeling stance, thighs apart and hands again behind my neck.
“May I please suck your monster cock, Master?” I asked Simmons in a low voice.

He replied, “Yes, you may, slave,” and unzipped/unbuckled his jeans. Simmons was the first man I had ever sucked as a slave, but since that dehumanizing experience my Master had rarely forced me to lick any dick except his own, which I regarded as a delicacy. Time to get it over with, I thought to myself. Without hesitation, I devoured the official’s dick while my hands gently teased his scrotum. I must have done something right, because after about four minutes of licking, slurping, and swallowing, the Ag. official blasted his goo into my throat. I kept some of it inside my cheek while my tongue slowly licked his shaft clean, then leaned back, kissing his dickhead as it left my mouth, and displayed the jism when I stuck out my tongue.

“You’re done a good job training this little whore,” Mr. Simmons remarked to my owner—”she’s a lot better at sucking than I recall.”

“Thanks,” my owner/lover replied, “that why I decided to keep her for longer.” I don’t know what thrilled me more, being complimented on my oral skills or hearing that my owner openly admitted that he valued my collared butt and wanted to keep me!

I still had to undergo the walk of shame, this time with some of Simmons’ sploog leaking out of the corners of my mouth, but I pretty much daydreamed through it, imagining a much longer period playing slave to my owner . .

I had totally forgotten that Nikki had to take me to the Longhorn to re-grade me for this trip. Master whispered in my ear, and said, “I know that you really do want to please me. So, for this trip, embrace everything as a fun part of your service. Know that you are doing it for me, as though I ORDERED you to, and you want to please me.” I was dripping as Master finally handed my leash over to Mistress Nikki.

*****
The “slave shrink” had told me that she was on retainer to the Longhorn, so I wasn’t really surprised when she produced an ID/nametag that gave her access to the slave market. Although she held my leash, a burly slave wrangler really took charge of me, with his hand intimately cupping my buttock while his fingers constantly goosing my winking starfish, giving me a thrill at every step. Escorted like that, I went through the re-grading process in a very short time. Although Master J.R. had drilled me regularly on the moves of slave yoga, it was a filthy thrill to run through them in a group before an audience that included Mistress Nikki and a handful of other wranglers, shaking my naked body and repeating all that begging for use by strangers. Previously, I was so afraid of enslavement that I froze up when I visited a market, but now I had accepted and even reveled in my helplessness! While I was stilling dripping and panting from that exhibitionism, the wrangler accompanying me re-photographed me in the most lewd, exposed positions imaginable, then uploaded those photos to the national slave registry, showing Mistress Nikki and I how he had entered my new, five-year FINO contract with Nikki as my guardian and J.R. as my de facto owner.

Next up was being de-voxed and tied, spread-eagled, onto a metal frame where any visitor could fondle and play with my body. It was still daunting to be that helpless, but I really got into it when J.R. showed up and finger-banged his live sex toy! Just his presence under these humiliating circumstances caused my “slave cunt” to turn liquid, a fact that both J.R. and the full-time slave merchants verified when they checked. If my Master needed this to keep me, it was more than OK with me.

After an hour of gawkers and slave merchants playing with me, “my” wrangler returned with Doctor Nikki to release me from the rack and take me to another anonymous wire cage to await the results of my slave grading, the average of all grades assigned by the merchants. I got the antidote for the de-voxing spray plus a bottle of water to help my throat recover. After only a few minutes, the wrangler’s tablet “dinged,” and he announced that I had graded as Prime Minus, a considerable improvement over the simple Choice grade I had received when I first applied for college loans some eight or nine years earlier.

Mistress Nikki, who had been encouraging and praising me, commented, “I told you, Jackie. You’re so much happier, so much more enthusiastic about your collar that your attitude was reflected in a higher grade. Good job, sweetie!”

It didn’t really matter because I wasn’t being sold at auction, thank heaven. Nonetheless, that grade in combination with my impending legal freedom filled me with a bubbling, happy attitude. A few minutes later, Master J.R. arrived at the cage. Like a docile little slut, I dropped to be knees in the slave spread position, but I was so happy to see him that I immediately begged, echoing the slave mantras I practiced every day,

“Master, may I please suck your magnificent cock?”
He looked a little surprised, but I don’t know why since I’d made it clear that I would willingly be his FINO slave as long as he would have me. “Go ahead,” he smirked, “But don’t expect this kind of treat every day.”

“Yes, Master, I mean—No, Master!” I replied, eagerly fishing his huge dick out of his pants. I impaled my head on it, frantically trying to stuff that cobra into my mouth and throat. Contentment!

“Day-em,” remarked the wrangler, “This slut is really gagging for it.” And I was. Time to stop talking and start sucking—talk about having your cake and swallowing it at the same time! Jism is my new favorite flavor.

(The End)

[Carl Bradford]

My apologies; in replying to a question on another story, I inadvertently buried this segment so it wouldn't be obvious to anyone looking for new postings! Carl

[Belinda]

Dearest Carl,

What a wonderful ending to such a fantastic love story. it actually brought tears of happiness to my eyes for her.

You are an amazing author with a true sense of the slave mindset. I so enjoyed this and am grateful to you for this episode.

Warmest regards,

Belinda