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The selective service slave

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mikey22
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The selective service slave

Post by mikey22 »

Y’all remember when you turned 18? And had to go down to the post office. And fill out that little card, for selective service?

Just in case of there being an national emergency. Or a war that the volunteer military needs more manpower for. Of course there hasn’t been an active draft in many years.

But in slave land. The draft is alive and well.
It’s funny how these laws gets passed. You would think when you turn on the evening news. There would be protesting in the streets. Or on Sunday morning shows. There would be fierce debate between the reds and the blues on such Barbaric things. But there’s never a word said.

But after all the entire economy of the free world.

Maybe free is not the word I should use. But you all know what I mean.

Everything that succeeds in the slave world economy. Feeds off the sales of the pleasure sluts.

And for some reason there’s not enough sluts coming into the system. So the draft had to be reinstated.

So all women between the ages of 18 and 26 are eligible. And by law there required to register.

The interesting thing about it is that they don’t have to go anywhere to register. The registration card comes straight to them.
It came to my young wife Misty. On her 19th birthday. Inside a birthday card that red.

Happy Birthday

From your friends from the state agriculture office.
Livestock and slave division.

Have a wonderful day. And looking forward to meeting you soon.

Sincerely

Mrs. Lee Ann.

Mrs. Sally.

Yeah the registration card was inside the birthday card. I guess it supposed to give you that false sense of a warm fuzzy feeling. Like these people actually care about you.

Yeah right!

Mom explained that it worked like a lottery. Since she grew up during the Vietnam war era. She remembered how that draft worked.

I sort of thought it would work like that daily lottery. You see on that Chicago channel. Where you see that sexy woman and four of those. Little machines running. Blowing around ping pong balls with numbers on them.
The machine will blow one up that tube to the top. And the sexy woman. With those manicured fingers will turn the number around. So you can see it.
And after the fourth number. That’s the daily winning number.

That’s the way I envisioned it working. I figured the department of agriculture probably had four of those machines running in some back room somewhere.

Getting this card really shook Misty to her core. She wanted no part of being a slave. Even if it was just for a short year.

I told her not to even worry about it. Just cause you register. Don’t mean you’ll be selected. Plus me and her had played the lottery a lot of times. Driving to Tennessee, Georgia. And even Florida. To buy lottery tickets.
And we ain’t won a God damn thing yet. So I figured the odds were pretty good. That she’d never be picked.

About six weeks later. After Misty started to feel a little relieved that she might squeak by.
She gets the official letter. That informs her that she had 30 days to report to the state agriculture office. For processing and enslavement.

We had just gotten home from work. Standing at the kitchen table she red the letter.

“ Processing? Sounds like a damn machine? “
She said.

I looked her over. And was already hard. Mom had been making her dress up for work. So she looked pretty hot in her business suit and heels.

I imagined they might have some conveyer that she’d stand on. And it would guide her inside a machine. That would strip her naked. Collar, cuff, gag and brand her.
Out the other side she’d come out in a poodle cage. And the conveyor would lead straight into a truck. Where she’d be on her way. Into the slave world.

Of course there’s ways around this. But it takes a team of highly skilled lawyers to guide you through all the loop holes. And of course mom doesn’t want to pay for all that. Nor does she want them targeting her. Especially since she was a branded woman that was still classified as on the run.

I was kind of excited about it. We’d only been married for a year at the time. And of course living with her mom and all. You know after living with people for a while. You learn how they really are.
And I think a little time in the collar. Might do Misty a world of good.
Mom also if they’ed ever catch her ass. She could really use a refresher course.

Neither of them are what I’d consider a submissive type.
With Misty’s sister Crystal off at college. Between the three of us. If anyone was a slave it was me.
I had no help cleaning the fucking house. Keeping up three acres of lawn. Then there was the pool that had to be kept up.
That land yacht of a Cadillac mom drove. And of course Misty’s Nova. Had to be washed and detailed on a weekly basis.

I started to view mom more as a communist dictator. Me and Misty worked for her. For only like $4.25 an hour.
It was like she was determined to keep us poor. And under her thumb at all times.
Misty even took a pay cut. From the piggly wiggly. To work for mom. With the expectations that she was gonna personally train her to be a top notch realtor. That would make thousands a week in commission.
And so far all she did was answer the phone and make coffee.

Mom did just like she promised. She gave me a full time job. On her maintenance crew. Maintaining her rental properties.
You learn a lot about people that rent. When you got a job like that.

The main thing you learn is just how God damn nasty they are.
Just cause they rent they think there entitled to just trash the place.
There was four of us on the crew. And we’d spend two whole hours cleaning up the parking lots.
Then mom got on this kick about making us pick up the dog shit before cutting the grass.
Not only everyone smoke. But everyone owns a fucking dog.
Now these ain’t low end places here. These people got fucking money. A one bedroom unit back then was going for $700. 00 a month. That’s a hell of a lot of money. When your only making $4.25 an hour you know. A two bedroom was right at a $1,000.00.
And if the outside sounds bad. Don’t even let me get started on the inside. When you got to rip all the carpet out and repaint for the new tenement. Hoping they don’t have fucking kids. Cause that just makes the whole situation worse.
Ain’t nothing like working all day to make one of these mega sized complexes look good. And while your loading up to leave. Young sexy hot mom. With three rug rats in the back seat rolls up.
Fist thing she does is throw a shitty diaper out. Then emptied her ashtray. And a couple of Coke bottles. And off inside her unit with her damn kids she goes.

That was my world for many years working for mom.

That 30 days after Misty got that official letter. Flew by fast. And finally we were having our last romantic night together.
It’s funny how I was the one always wearing the slave collar. Since the next day she was gonna be a real slave. Looks like she’d want a chance to be a submissive a little to get used to it.
But no. I’d give her entire body a massage. And suck on her toes. Lick her feet. Then lick my way up to her pussy. Eat her out, and clean her tank with my tongue. Eat her out until she comes. We fuck until she comes. Then I eat her out again. To clean her up and get her off again.

Some how I hope in slave world they expect her to perform better than just laying around on her fat ass.
Some how I just don’t see the bulls catering to her like she’s a queen like I have.

Eventually she falls asleep. And I get up go take a piss. And get myself something to drink. When mom comes home.

By then it was 1:00 in the morning. She’d been out bar hopping as usual. Looking for Mr. Right. But gets the usual two minute special fuck from Mr. Wrong. She comes in stinking like a brewery. While I was at the refrigerator. Still naked and in my collar.

She flopped down on the couch. And kicked out of her high heels.
She then reached up snapped her fingers to get my attention. When I turned to look. She just pointed to the floor. And spread her legs.
Like the good son in law I am. I get down there and she lifts her skirt. And I finish the job that Mr. Wrong didn’t. Of course he left me his own mess to clean up.
I eat mom out until she comes. Again by then I’m ready for my own round with her. But she’s not in the mood anymore. But makes me stand there in front of her. And fuck my fist. While she watches with an amused look.
Once I shoot off all over her bare legs and feet. I’m required to lick all that up. Including what landed on the floor.

Yep just another day in my own slave world.
I then go back and lay down next to my wife. Wishing I could be a fly on the wall. When she turns herself into the livestock and slave office. Around 9:00 AM. Lol.
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Carl Bradford
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Re: The selective service slave

Post by Carl Bradford »

Great concept! Of course, we all have our own special tweaks we'd like to make. During the Civil War, for example, you could hire a substitute to serve for you--how about hiring another woman to be drafted for you? THEN the problem becomes--just as it was in the 1860s--ensuring that the substitute doesn't run away to avoid the service. That means delivering her to the draft board already stripped and cuffed.
And deferments--you mentioned that having children would be a non-starter; would there by other ways for a young woman to avoid conscription? Would some women actively try to get impregnated to avoid it?
Please keep going.
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mikey22
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Re: The selective service slave

Post by mikey22 »

Carl Bradford wrote: Sun Jan 02, 2022 2:22 pm Great concept! Of course, we all have our own special tweaks we'd like to make. During the Civil War, for example, you could hire a substitute to serve for you--how about hiring another woman to be drafted for you? THEN the problem becomes--just as it was in the 1860s--ensuring that the substitute doesn't run away to avoid the service. That means delivering her to the draft board already stripped and cuffed.
And deferments--you mentioned that having children would be a non-starter; would there by other ways for a young woman to avoid conscription? Would some women actively try to get impregnated to avoid it?
Please keep going.
If Misty would have known this would have happened to her. She never would have taken birth control. We’d probably would have had five or six kids before she’d hit the age of 26. Lol.
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reddbunnz
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Re: The selective service slave

Post by reddbunnz »

Just getting started, but am wondering what direction this can take if while dropping his wife off at the slave office, he reports his MIL as an escaped slave. Just wondering. :D
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