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The Older Brother Pt. 01

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Carl Bradford
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The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by Carl Bradford »

(This story is set in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is commonplace for serious crime, unredeemed 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.)

(The following story is based on a detailed plot outline from Lee B., who asked me to “flesh” it out for him.)

Jim and Helen Prince were successful and wealthy, operating their own Pony Girl training ranch in East Texas. Their eldest child was Billy Prince, who unfortunately never seemed to do anything right and was in frequent, if minor, trouble with the Sheriff’s Department. No matter how hard they tried to be fair, Jim and Helen couldn’t help preferring their three smart, pretty, and intelligent daughters, especially the eldest girl, Maria, to their “difficult” son. Billy and Maria had had the usual sibling arguments while growing up, but Maria had no idea of the secret hatred her brother harbored—as far as he was concerned, Maria got everything she wanted just because she was pretty, and would probably inherit the ranch instead of him even though he did all the dirty work around there. For some reason, he couldn’t understand that his parents were exasperated and just wanted him to straighten up. This unspoken sibling rivalry was an issue that nearly destroyed the family.

Like most teenaged girls in Texas, Maria wanted to get slave graded as soon as she turned age 18—it was a natural rite of passage, and being pretty as well as VERY curvy she hoped to get a high grade that would give her bragging rights with her friends. But she REALLY didn’t want her parents involved OR to have her friends know about the grading until it was over. Not only was she naturally embarrassed about people seeing her naked and helpless in public, but she felt that her parents, as slave handlers and trainers, couldn’t help but look down on her if she placed herself, even temporarily, in the same status as the pony sluts they trained every day. So, Maria asked her brother Bill for a big favor—would HE take her to the Longhorn Slave Market for grading, but keep it all secret from their parents?

Bill was more than happy to do her such a favor—except that he intended to use the opportunity to dispose of his rival. Maria told their parents some song and dance about spending the night with a friend in Dallas, and Bill pretended to be reluctant to drive her there until his father insisted; he didn’t want to appear too eager when she came up missing later.

As they drove into the city early that morning, Maria smiled at her brother, then began to speak hesitantly. “I really appreciate you helping me out like this Billy, but in order for me to get a good grade, can I ask you for one more favor?”

Bill, whose mind was already filled with rosy images of his pain-in-the-ass sister getting a REAL pain in the ass from branding, sighed loudly and pretended to be his usual, sullen self. “What?” He asked flatly.

“Well, you know . . . I need you to feel me up and treat me rough, so I get properly turned on before I’m graded.”

Bill, grinning to himself as much as to her, replied, promptly, “No problem! Just don’t get offended if I touch you in ways that no sibling should touch another, OK?”
Relieved, Maria agreed and thanked him again for his help. Little did she know that he intended to “help her” completely out of her carefree, happy life!

*****

The first part of her plan was predictable: as soon as they stopped in the Longhorn parking lot, Bill “got into character” by demanding “Out of the car, slut, and strip!” Eager to get it over wish, and slightly aroused by what was to come, Maria handed him her signed and notarized power of attorney for slave grading, then climbed out of the car and shucked off her clothes in a rush, putting them into a large trash bag she had brought along. She was so focused on this first, humiliating step that she didn’t notice the fact that Billy had walked around behind the car. While she was facing away from him and getting slave naked in public, he opened the trunk, peeled off the middle pages of her power of attorney, and substituted similar pages that he had drafted—pages that granted him the right to sell her into chattel slavery for up to twelve years!

Then he walked around her, tossed her bag of clothes into the car, and gave the expected instructions to “collar” and “back hands.” Maria was already excited and breathing hard, but these traditional orders to a slave put her into sub-space. Before she realized it, she had a collar around her neck, hands zip-tied behind her back, and then—rather surprisingly—a large ball gag strapped into her mouth!

Once he had her standing up with her collar connected to a leash, Billy fondled her breasts, thumbed first her nipples and then her clit, and then shoved two fingers into what he described as her “soaking-wet slave twat—you’re clearly born for the collar, bitch.” Well, she had asked him to treat her rough, and it was too late to complain anyway. And the treatment WAS working, after all—she was really aroused by her situation.

The clueless young woman had no choice but to follow the guy holding her leash as he almost dragged her so that her bare feet hurt as she walked on the rough asphalt. The only word he said to her was an order to kneel, which left her in front of one of the in-processing stations with her erect breasts sticking out and her slick thighs spread widely apart.

Billy handed the (modified) paperwork to the slave wrangler at that intake station, but the two standing, clothed adults seemed to take a long time talking—in the crowded, noisy front entrance to the slave market she heard random words such as “nipple rings” but had no idea what was happening, except to wonder why the simple process of checking her in for slave-grading took so long.

After that delay, a really handsome, muscular slave wrangler, with a nametag reading “Chuck,” took charge of her, installed a shock collar in place of her previous collar, and walked her into the back of the cavernous building. The last time she saw her brother, he had a smirk on his face, but she was so turned on being naked and sexually handled by a good-looking stranger that she barely had time to wonder when she would see Billy after the grading, let alone wonder why he was grinning like that.

Maria’s friends had often recounted the process of slave registration and grading, emphasizing the sense of powerlessness and arousal that it gave them, but no one had told her how FAST it all went. “Her” slave wrangler Chuck put her in a group of other naked people on a platform for ten minutes of block poses (aka slave yoga) and suggestive begging to imaginary masters, both of which only heightened her feelings of sexiness. After that, though, everything was wham! Bang!—chipping her and inscribing a Slave Identification Number inside her lower lip, posing for photographs that showed EVERYTHING about her body, then Chuck demanding that she kneel and suck him off while he entered the data into the national records. Maria had only given two blowjobs (to a boyfriend) before, but she knew that oral service was part of the procedure, intended to make her feel submissive and hyper-sexualized—and it sure as heck worked! Once again, she mentally thanked her brother for sparing her parents the knowledge of what she was doing. She began to imagine that she was a real slave girl, available for viewing, fondling, and use by any free person. It was a thrilling fantasy, and she looked forward to using this experience for masturbation, but of course she had NO desire to be enslaved for real. Somehow, Maria was enjoying her subjugation while simultaneously looking forward to regaining her freedom.

The last stage of slave grading appeared before Maria had mentally prepared for it. Once he allowed her to swallow the cum on her tongue, wrangler Chuck cuffed her hands behind her back again (which casually groping her breasts and tush), squeezed her nostrils closed to force her mouth open, and then sprayed something down her throat. She knew what THAT meant, and felt even more helpless, if unsurprised, that she could no longer make a sound. In minutes, she was bound spread-eagled to a metal table, flat on her back and completely exposed, her heart beating rapidly.

The doors opened and a small crowd of gawkers entered the room, casually fondling and jeering at the half-dozen helpless women on the tables, calling them every name she could imagine and some she had never heard before—slut, whore, bimbo, skank, and so on. Among the crowd, she was surprised to see Billy! He was still wearing that enigmatic smirk when he walked up to the table on which she lay. As he tweaked her breasts and again finger-fucked her, this time with more force, he said something about “what a great sex slave” she was gonna make. With the blood pounding in her ears, Maria couldn’t figure out what he was talking about, but decided that he was continuing to honor her request by mauling her and treating her like actual slave meat! After a minute, one of the slave wranglers told Billy to back off, so he just blew her an air kiss, winked, and swaggered out of the room without a backwards glance. Overwhelmed by the other gawkers toying with her body, she couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Finally! Maria was relieved to see the arrival of a dozen career slave merchants, easily identifiable by their bored faces and I-pads. Three of them touched her intimately, even dipping their fingers between her moist labia, but they seemed more concerned about making notations on their I-pads than toying with her body. Instead of sexually harassing her, they seemed so disinterested in her body that it was a different kind of insult from the young people who had teased her, as if she were too ugly to interest a man. Once the merchants left, Chuck reappeared and released her arms and legs, then again cupped her ass and walked her out of that horrible room. Surely, Maria thought, this must be the end of her trials.

*****

Except that Chuck DIDN’T give her the antidote for the Devoxing spray, nor did he take her back to a cage to wait for final grading and release, as all her friends had talked about. Instead, he walked her into a side office with a sign that said “Piercing.” Why, she wondered, were we going in here? I’ve already got pierced ears.
But there was no mistake—the wrangler ordered her to kneel in front of a strange apparatus, pushing down forcefully on her shoulders. In seconds, her breasts were locked into a kind of stocks for boobs, torqued down so that she couldn’t withdraw from the two metal forms even if she weren’t kneeling with wrists bound. That made her already-large breasts bulge as if they were DD size or larger.

A guy in a white coat sprayed some kind of antiseptic, numbing agent onto her breasts, then told her to “hold still” (as if she could go anywhere!) while he approached her with a long, sharp metal needle. She wanted to protest, to ask why he was doing this, but she couldn’t say anything, let alone escape. As that huge needle penetrated the base of her left nipple, her mouth opened in a silent protest of pain and horror—later, she imagined that her face must have looked like Munch’s famous painting “the Scream,” except that she couldn’t even move her hands to hold her head as that painting had depicted. After threading a large, metal ring through the new opening in her body, this sadist did the same thing to her RIGHT nipple! At least he sprayed the numbing agent over the new wounds and gave her some ibuprofen to swallow, but she was in considerable pain and couldn’t even let off the pressure and pain by yelling.

As the wrangler marched her back out of that torture chamber, Chuck’s cellphone squawked; he told her that she had been graded out as Prime, apparently thinking that would make her feel better. A few hours earlier, that news would have filled her with pride, but now she was in pain and still couldn’t figure out what the HELL was going on—where was Billy? Why was Chuck still pushing her around like some slut due to be sold?

Chuck FINALLY sprayed her throat with an antidote for the devoxing, but her sense of panic only increased when he started talking to her about how to conduct herself on the auction block. In her raspy, whispering voice she tried to tell him there had been a mistake, that she was only here for grading, but he replied, “Get hold of yourself; your owner has decided to sell you as a pony girl, so you’re going onto the block, and if you keep arguing with me I’ll just have to devox you again, which means you won’t regain your voice for days.” That threat silenced her, terrified but praying this horrendous situation could be fixed somehow.

Maria was almost catatonic by the time Chuck walked her over to the Slut Wash, a sort of car wash for slaves. She hardly even blinked with the two male attendants in rainsuits, both of whom appeared to be barely the minimum age of 18, joyfully scrubbed her down, pushed nozzles into all her orifices, and gave her two warm enemas all while talking about what a great sex toy she would make and how they wanted to plow all her openings. By now, Maria was too terrified even to enjoy the teasing. Finally, they released her back to Chuck.

Soon, she was standing in a line of naked slave girls, hands still cuffed and nipples still stinging. Her mind was going a thousand miles an hour, trying desperately to figure out what had happened—was there something wrong with her paperwork? Was Billy really selling her, or had he just made a stupid mistake? That would be just like him, she thought angrily, but meanwhile she couldn’t stop shaking and crying.

The line moved forward rather rapidly, and each time the door opened, another girl disappeared through it and she could hear crowd noises and the loudspeaker-enhanced voice of an auctioneer. Meanwhile Chuck and the other wranglers were goosing, fondling, and finger-fucking their waiting charges, encouraging the women to get aroused so they would sell for a higher price—and incidentally get better treatment as slaves. Most of her fellow-slaves (the very thought made her wince) tried to cooperate, rubbing their damp labia against the rough fabric of a wrangler’s pants, but Maria was so distraught that she couldn’t think clearly, let alone try to get off. Fortunately, her fear in combination with the painful piercings had caused her nipples to stay erect, and there were still traces of her earlier juices on her thighs.

Her actual auction was like a dream—or more properly, a nightmare. Having grown up in a slaving family, she had often thought about being sold herself, and the idea once again contributed to her arousal. But then, beyond the bright lights, she saw her brother, still smirking as if he were having the time of his life, watching his own sister reduced to slavery. She tried to get to him, to appeal to him, but the auctioneer snaked the whip in between her widespread legs and flicked it upwards so that the tip struck her engorged clit, causing her to howl and dance on the stage. Everyone including Billy found that hilarious!

That little dance must have convinced the audience that she really WAS a prime piece of slave meat, because the last bid she heard the auctioneer repeat was for $130,000. By this time she was trembling and dizzy, which unfortunately for her just looked like she was passing out from her sexual excitement.

*****

The sound of the gavel and the auctioneer announcing “SOLD!” in a sonorous, deep voice sounded like a death knell—Maria knew that, once gaveled to sale, it was difficult to undo a sale and the unfortunate person being sold was legally a slave. Not surprisingly, she lost all energy and will at that moment, so that Chuck and another wrangler had to virtually carry her shaking body off the block, pause so the clerk could verify her slave identity number, and then frog-walk her down a hallway between cages.

But then she realized what was coming next. Having lived on a pony girl farm all her life, she had empathized with the unfortunate young slaves of all genders who had the ranch brand seared into their buttocks. But she had never dreamed that branding would actually happen to her!

Being half-carried down the corridor, she suddenly felt and even smelled the heat before passing through a door decorated with a 9-inch wide burned-in imprint of the Longhorn Slave Market logo: An outline bull’s head shaped like an isosceles triangle with two long, hooked horns sticked out of the sides. For the first time, the full reality of slavery struck her. This was worse than a nightmare, this was the end of her independent existence!

Inside, a gas-fueled, fan-driven forge was flooding the room with heat, noise, and light. There were two complicated frames of gleaming metal, clearly intended to restrain slaves for branding. And two grinning attendants wore leather aprons; one was in his 40s with a full beard, the other a brown-haired guy in his late 20s or perhaps early 30s. Neither of them appeared to find it odd that this collared, naked woman was about to be indelibly marked as a slave.

Maria felt herself strapped into one of the restraining frames, with her legs perpendicular to the ground but her torso and face bent forward at right angles, offering her naked rear end in a very lewd and exposed manner. Chuck forced a stout bite stick between her teeth and strapped it around the back of her skull.

As if he were showing her a treat, the bearded smith held the glowing outline of a longhorn, identical to the outline on the door, only a few inches away from her face. She was terrified all over again, struggling in vain to escape her restraints. The smith thrust the iron back into the center of the flames to heat it still further, explaining calmly that he would first imprint this outline across her left buttock, then use a separate iron to mark her “P” for Prime, just above the center of the Longhorn’s skull.

“That way, girly, for the rest of your life, slave or free, everyone who sees you in a bathing suit will know that you are truly PRIME slave meat, the finest piece of ass in Texas.”

Then, using insulated gloves, he withdrew the main iron from the fire and walked behind her, out of her field of view, obviously intent on branding her.

Just then, the door banged open and the voice of Jessie Foster, the Operations Manager of the Long Horn, said “Stop the branding!” rather forcefully.

But Maria didn’t hear him; her frantic, overloaded mind had fainted.

*****

For some reason, the sight of his sister being sold into slavery hadn’t been nearly as much fun as Billy had expected. Once they carried her off the platform, he sat for a minute, trying to convince himself that it had been as great as he had anticipated. Finally giving up, he shook his head and shuffled out of the room, looking for the Cashier’s Office to pick up his $117,000 (sale price minus 10 percent to the Longhorn). Billy tried to reassure himself that he was satisfied, that his fat ass, little-miss-Perfect sister had finally been good for something. Now, he’d have to move fast and find some bank to conceal the profits so that he could give them to Rose and Christine. Then just sit back—with his “perfect” sister disappearing into mid-air, he was almost guaranteed to get what was coming to him, beginning as manager and eventually owner of the family pony girl farm. He couldn’t help smiling again at that thought.

At the Cashier’s Office, he presented his claim stub, showing his (fictitious) ownership of Slut 664-77-8299, in order to claim his share of her sale price. The clerk suddenly seemed to move very slowly and carefully, requiring to see his driver’s license and asking him to articulate (again) that he was the owner of the now-auctioned young woman. Just as he repeated that claim, he found himself flanked by two burly men, one of whom showed a badge identifying him as an agent of the Texas Livestock Authority.

“William Prince, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and false enslavement.”

Billy was still in shock as they cuffed him, patted him down for weapons, and locked him into one of the Longhorn’s holding cages, pending disposition. He had no idea what had happened.

His downfall had actually begun three hours earlier, when the slave merchants inspected the naked women on display for grading. One of those merchants was Lester Simmons, the gaunt, middle-aged ex-slave wrangler who usually handled acquisitions for the Prince Pony Ranch. They weren’t a HUGE customer, but in an average year, Lester purchased at least half a dozen long-legged, juicy young women and one muscular, well-hung young man for that ranch. Mr. Prince was a good, steady customer who usually paid Lester $5,000, sometimes more, for every pony he found.

Which meant that he had spent a fair amount of time talking with Jim Prince who, like most parents, was very proud of his children—especially his smart, beautiful eldest girl, Maria. Lester had seen photos of Maria half a dozen times and had even met her when he’d been invited to several barbeques at the ranch. While there, someone had pointed Billy out to him, and Lester remembered thinking what a sullen, angry young man that guy was. What’s HIS problem, Lester wondered?
He recognized Maria when he was grading the sluts on display that day but didn’t think much of it—most young adult women in Texas seemed to get a thrill out of stripping down and being slave graded, even though those women had no intention of ever wearing a collar for real. Still, Lester prided himself on being a judge of what made for juicy fuckable slaves of any type and especially the kind of well-built, corn-fed just-turned-age-18 cowgirls who had the strength and endurance to be championship ponies. So this gorgeous black-haired, big-titted young woman stuck in his mind. Of course, he wouldn’t dream of embarrassing her by telling her that he’s finger-fucked her while she was bound and naked, but he couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was that she wasn’t REALLY up for sale. Hell, he thought, if Mr. Prince weren’t her father the Prince Ranch would probably have tried to buy her service for a few years of racing, or perhaps even as a pleasure slave.

And then Lester noticed Billy Prince, the young guy who always seemed to have a grudge against the world, smirking and grinning like a fool, headed for the auction hall. Lester smelled a rat, although the idea at first seemed unbelievable. But he had that slut’s Slave Identification Number and photo in his I-pad, and when the same SIN came up on the display of those being auctioned today, he whipped out his cellphone and hit Mr. Prince’s number on his list of favorites.

“Mr. Prince, this here’s Lester Simmons—you know, your agent at the Longhorn? I know this sounds crazy, and I hope to heck that I’m wrong! ‘Scuz me for asking a delicate question, but do you know where your daughter Maria is at today? Cuz a filly who looks JEST like her is up for auction down here at the Long Horn today, and I think your son Billy is hanging around as well. Do you know what that’s about?”

(We’ll skip the frantic denials and arguments for the next few minutes; suffice it to say that Jim Prince put two and two together. He told Lester to go bid whatever it took to purchase that girl. Meanwhile, having received the SIN from Lester, Jim decided to go straight to the top in another telephone conversation):

“Mister Foster, there’s a Jim Prince calling for you on line 22.”

“Thanks, Lila. [click] Jim? This is Jessie Foster. What can I do for you?”

[Again, let’s skip the misunderstandings and disconnects. In two minutes, Jessie had called up the digitized copy of the power of attorney, and he noticed immediately that the middle pages of the document were missing any initials at the bottom—there was no proof that the woman had seen those pages when she signed the document surrendering herself. Crap! How many times had he told his wranglers to check such things?]

“OK, Jim, I see the problem. Somebody—heck, it looks like your son William—has tampered with the power of attorney that she submitted to get slave graded.” (Jim didn’t want to tell the loving father that his own son had inserted permission not only to enslave Maria but to ring her nipples and brand her butt. Instead, he told Jim the good news:) “That’ll probably void the auction, but we’re going to take it in the shorts over this screw-up. I’m not sure whoever bought her will forgive me for voiding this after they bid 130 K for her.”

Jim: “I’ll be happy to reimburse you for any financial losses; I just want to save my daughter. I’m on my way down there, now.” Jessie could hear a truck motor whining into top gear as they hung up.

“Lily! Get hold of whoever’s here today from the Livestock Authority and tell him I think we’ve got a case of false enslavement. I’m on my way to the branding room; hope I’m in time!” All she heard after that was the slamming of doors and frantic footsteps on the steps.

*****

When Maria regained consciousness, she felt herself wrapped in a blanket while her Momma rocked her gently, repeating over and over that “It’s all right, Baby, just a misunderstanding, you’re not going to be a slave,” and so on.

After she stopped crying for a moment, Maria asked her mother, “Why did Billy do that to me?”

That’s precisely what Jim Prince wanted to know. The Livestock Authority needed Jim or Maria to press charges, but first, the agents understood, he wanted to figure out why the hell his son had done such a thing?

The answer was unsatisfactory, of course, but father and son went around and around in that cage for what seemed like hours. Jim ended up paying Lester the $130,000 it had cost to purchase her, although Jessie waived the Longhorn’s commission because they had made a mistake. Once HE was the owner (of his own daughter, for Chrissake!), Jim Prince knew he could free her, although it would take several days to get the paperwork straight.

Meanwhile, Billy Prince was charged with false enslavement and incidentally defrauding the state of Texas by falsely registering a slave; because Maria had gone with him willingly to the market, the charge of kidnapping wouldn’t work. But, the penalty for the other two offenses was bad enough—the perpetrator would be imprisoned for life.

To prove even THAT charge, though, Maria would probably have to testify about the traumatic events of that day, and she was already a basket case. To save her from that, Jim offered Billy a stark alternative:

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not my son anymore. You owe your EX-sister anything she needs to make up for your crime. So you have a choice: go to trial and get life imprisonment OR voluntarily become a family slave, a pony boy, for the next 16 years. After that, you’ll be free to leave without a criminal record.”
Billy finally agreed. “I’ll self-indenture so that nobody has to testify. I don’t deserve any leniency, but I DO ask you to do one favor for me.”
Tired and skeptical, his outraged father stared hard at him: “Why would I do a favor for you after what you pulled?”

“Because two innocent lives are at stake.”

Slowly at first, and then more and more articulately, the story poured out of Billy: Seven years earlier, he had met the only girl who ever respected him and cared about him—Rose. She was smart, patient, and (in Billy’s eyes at least) pretty. Unfortunately, he’d gotten Rose pregnant, probably the very first time either of them had sex. Now, every dollar he could scrap up went to support Rose and their six-year-old daughter, Christine, who were living in a rundown trailer on the edge of their town.
“That was the main reason I needed the money—to make sure that Rose and Christine are taken care of. If you want to avoid a trial by having me self-indenture, OK, but somebody needs to take care of them.”

(To be continued)
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by eroticstoryspinner »

Good story as always. Only nitpick is that lifetime enslavement seems a little off for false enslavement. Obviously it is a serious offense but perhaps double the indenture or twenty years, something like that.
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by jeepster »

That was an interesting twist! Right until the end I thought Billy was just a lost disgruntled asshole of a brother!
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

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Carl Bradford wrote: Thu Mar 24, 2022 1:54 am

She was so focused on this first, humiliating step that she didn’t notice the fact that Billy had walked around behind the car. While she was facing away from him and getting slave naked in public, he opened the trunk, peeled off the middle pages of her power of attorney, and substituted similar pages that he had drafted—pages that granted him the right to sell her into chattel slavery for up to twelve years!

Darn those do-it-yourself, Internet Legal forms services! Any qualified Attorney worth their salt knows that EVERY single page of a contract or Power of Attorney document should have a red circle stamp or similar facsimile on EACH PAGE of the document donating the page number and sequence as well as a place that the contract executor must initial to prevent the exact fraud of page substitution Billy tried to carry out and almost got away with in this story. Signing only the last page of such a document only invites fraud. Your cautionary tale was a warning to others not to get caught in such a situation.

Of course there is no law that says such initialing of each page HAS to be present and that makes Billy's substitution such a marvelous plot device (Ah, the innocence of youth. Poor Maria never suspected a thing. :lol: ) It is also why I suspected Maria, in her haste to keep her Slave Grading from her parents, must have used a less than professional Internet service company and printed the generic forms herself.

Carl, as usual, your writing was wonderful and you did Lee B and his plot outline proud. Eagerly looking forward to reading the next installment!

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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by Mr. Smith »

Another excellent story. I confess, I was hoping she would get her prime brand. It would have been really amusing if Jessie had halted the process after the Longhorn badge was burned into her buttock but before the 'P" denoting her prime status was added. It would have created some additional drama. Does she get the "P" added or does she go through life with everyone thinking she was just choice? Imagine the family discussion on that one. Now Maria would have to ask for the 'P" badging.
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

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I think the idea of her completing her branding is a great one. Would it be done with pain killers, or, as it was a prime brand, would such a scene be an affront to everyone's sensibility. Would it be done on the ranch, by an old family friend / employee, who really loved his work? I always loved the character in El Jeffe's SOUTHWEST SHIPPING, who was a college professor who went to Boston College and branded girl's butts "for fun", and really enjoyed giving a Tufts / Harvard graduate a magnificent brand on the rack he built himself. :clint:

When it comes to false enslavement, you get the justice you can afford. The sentencing guidelines are broad, and people running illegal slaving rings can go away for a long, long time, or be enslaved themselves. :cop:

On the other hand, liability is extremely limited for professional slavers who act in a non-negligent manner, as legal certainty is a necessity for any business. The opinion of the girl means nothing; McDonald's would get sued everyday if you asked the cow's opinion, and at the Longhorn it makes little difference if the chattel has two hooves or four. The rich and powerful have sometimes wiggled out of false enslavement charges by taking the girl to slave court, and arguing that her slave hotness was "self enslavement", although this OJ-you-way out of it defense is limited to people with the legal representation and political connections to grease the system, the joke being that in some proceedings Lady Justice ends up naked, collared, and on all fours with a collar around her neck.

This was an awesome story, Carl. I really enjoyed it!
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by Carl Bradford »

OK, blame me, folks. I have cooperated with the general opinion that branding is an essential part of enslavement, if only because it is a psychological/traumatic experience that clearly conveys "You ain't people anymore, slut." I think the original plot outline I received called for her to be branded and then freed, but I'm too much of a softy to include branding as "normal."
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Re: The Older Brother Pt. 01

Post by imreadonly2 »

Ha! Yes, we are a tough audience. :lol: If you ever found yourself in the slave market when we were on duty, Belinda, all procedures would be followed, whether they made any sense or not. The wisdom of our ancestors is embodied in the collar, the whip, the auction block, and the branding iron, and far be it from me to question a system that has worked so well for so long. ;)

GREAT STORY, CARL!!!
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